#nothing bad in this chapter so no mature label
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The Pines Files
After the events of Weirdmaggeddon, Dipper and Mabel are contacted by the SCP foundation and join the ranks. The adventure never ended, it just took a different turn. And now, years later, they're back to Gravity Falls, aka SCP-████. And it is up to them to investigate the ever-growing mystery behind the town and protect the most dangerous and important SCPs there are and face their past.
Chapter Two: All Around Me Are Familiar Faces
The good thing about being conscripted as a child was that Dipper didn’t need to be debriefed about where Gravity Falls was. He could just pack his stuff up, talk to his landlord, and head out. And that’s exactly what he did, packing just about everything he owned into a Uhaul, his testosterone in a cooler on the front seat to be safe. The trip to Gravity Falls was gonna be a bit of a long haul, unfortunately, but what was more American than taking an overly long road trip for a new job?
And to be honest, with the exception of a mixup at one of the motels and a lackluster lunch in Portland, the trip itself had been largely uneventful. The thirty-five-hour drive from Site-19 to Gravity Falls had been broken down into 10-hour drives, with sleep and meals in between of course. All in all, it took about three and a half days to do it, more or less.
But with all the drive time, even with the radio on, it gave him time to think. He hadn’t been to Gravity Falls in over two years, and Site-19 wasn’t exactly close; if he wasn’t taking all his stuff with him, he would have flown. That wasn’t to say he didn’t keep in touch however, he absolutely did. But he hadn’t seen the place in so long. It was bound to be different, wasn’t it?
And then it was the fact that it wasn’t his supervisor or even Dr. Casper who reassigned him. It was Dr. Bright. Head of personnel himself. There had to be a bigger reason to send him home than just potential. He figured that it was his experience with the site both during and after Weirdmaggedon, but was that really all there was to it? Why not assign him to Gravity Falls in the first place? It was honestly setting off his paranoia. What if there was some important assignment he had somehow missed in the paperwork?
It wasn’t until he was almost there that he remembered what the forms said. He hadn’t seen anything about a secret or a vital mission in those papers he signed. He’d probably be doing standard experimentation. Maybe even stuff he’d been doing ever since he was a kid. It could even be considered a well-earned break after working those five years at site-19.
But had he really earned it? He worked for three years in the anomalous objects department before working in the department of spectral anomalies. Plenty of people got way less after dealing with way worse. All MTF operatives got was a trip to the duck pond.
All Mabel got was a trip to the duck pond.
Best to not think about it.
When he finally arrived at Gravity Falls though, he found that not much had changed, Greasy’s was still there, the used car lot was still there- though it was clear Bud had retired- and no one seemed to move away. If anything, the little town had grown ever so slightly in the time he was gone. He wondered how much of it was foundation personnel and their families, and how much was just regular growth.
The real surprise though was when he arrived at his new building. Sure, he’d told his family where the apartment was going to be and he knew they’d be there to help him move in. What he didn’t expect was to be tackled as soon as he got out of his car and to hear a yell, “OH MY GOD, DIPPER, YOU’RE HERE!” Strong arms squeezed around him, damn near cracking his spine.
“Mabel!” He wiggled out of her grip just a little bit, the smile never leaving his face as he looked at his twin. “I had no idea you were in town! How long have you been here? Did work give you vacation time?”
“Nope! I’m here full-time! For like a month now!” She finally let him go.
“Wait, really? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Cause you said you were coming like a week after I showed up! So I wanted to surprise you!” She ruffled his hair.
“ACK!” He got away from her again, not wanting his hair to look any messier. “Come on, let me just get inside.”
Just as he expected, it was more than just Mabel there. Soos, Wendy, Melody, and his Grunkles. They even had a few bags with them. Housewarming stuff no doubt.
“Sorry if there was a wait guys, I had some trouble at a motel a couple of states back.”
Wendy went to mess up his hair, just as Mabel had before, Dipper batting her off as well before she high-fived him, “It’s fine dude, we haven’t been waiting long. What chu been up to?”
“Just a lot of work, getting ready to come on over here, what about you?”
“Just kicking ass!”
“Hell yeah!”
Then came a sudden and tight hug from Soos, “Dude it’s been way too long!” Melody then put a hand on his shoulder, telling him, “Yeah, it was like you disappeared off the face of the earth.”
Dipper laughed, telling them, “Yeah, I’m sorry, I should have made the time. But hey! I live here now, we can see each other whenever.” He looked around and noted the distinct lack of a small child clinging to his leg. “Hey, where’s Ernesto?”
“Oh dude, he’s at camp, remember?”
“Already?”
“Yeah, school let out a couple of days ago, you just missed him yesterday,” Melody clarified.
“Augh, I should have packed up sooner.”
“It’s alright, dude, Ernesto gets that he’ll see you when he gets back. Plus, you’ll live here! You can just show up whenever!”
“Yeah yeah, that’s enough small talk! Get over here ya little goober!” Stan pulled Dipper in for a hug and a clap on the shoulder. “How’s Detroit been?”
“Site 19 isn’t in Detroit, Stanley.”
“It's in Michigan either way.”
“It’s been nice actually. Way too cold in winter though.”
“That sounds about right, the great lakes region is known for being quite punishing.”
“Yeah, you don’t need to tell me twice. How was this year's trip?”
“Oh, it was great! I punched a Kraken in the face! And Ford here met up with his ex again.” Stan elbowed Ford, who couldn’t help but smile.
“I do admit that it was surprising to see Armand again after all these years. Especially when Stanley nearly jumped into the water after hearing his song.”
“Come on, let’s take the yapping upstairs,” Mabel interjected. “We haven’t even seen Dipper’s apartment yet."
The apartment itself wasn’t huge, just a regular one-bedroom. But there was a lot of stuff to bring up. The camera setup, all of Dipper’s dishes, even an aquarium, though it was currently devoid of both fish and water.
“Oh, dude, I didn’t know you kept fish!” Soos said.
“Oh, I don’t. I bought it back in January but I got slammed with work right after, so I never filled it. That’s gonna change though, I wanna start keeping tetra maybe.”
Mabel almost jumped at the chance to tell him, “Oh! You’ll be heading to Grenda’s then! Tell her I said hi!”
“Woah, Grenda’s living ing Gravity falls again? I thought she moved to Austria after she got married, or did something happen?”
“Come on, man, don’t be a downer,” Wendy ruffled his hair, “she and Marius just split their time. You really gotta keep up around here.”
“Right, I shouldn’t have assumed.” And with that, they continued the setup. With the aquarium right across from the couch, so Dipper could look at his fish as he relaxed. Once everything was set up, Dipper ordered pizza.
“Okay, so, we’re getting pepperoni and cheese and chocolate syrup for Mabel.”
Stan shuddered, thinking aloud as he said, “I don’t understand how you can eat some of that stuff, kid.”
Ford shrugged, “Honestly it doesn’t sound too bad.”
Mabel laughed a bit, telling them, “I just have better tastebuds than you guys.”
“More like way weirder tastebuds,” Wendy cracked.
“Sometimes I just think you’re making up how much you like that stuff just to mess with us,” Melody commented lightheartedly. And she further remarked, “It’d be a pretty hardcore prank, to be honest.”
“Honestly, I used to be way worse when I lived on-site and had to eat in the cafeteria. I would just go to the different stations and just put whatever was there on my tray and see what happened. But, like, I don’t do it all the time, I can eat normally.”
“I mean, you are pretty hardcore,” Dipper commented. “One time on site-19, I tried to replicate Mabel Juice for old time’s sake and almost got sent to the hospital.
That got a bit of a laugh and they spent the rest of the afternoon like that. Talking, catching up. Dipper could have honestly spent his whole life like that. Away from the stresses of testing, watching Mabel commit crimes against food.
When it was time for everyone to head out, Dipper bid them all goodbye and found that he had gotten a text on his phone from Ernesto.
“Did you make it home ok Uncle Dipper?”
Dipper smiled and texted back, “Yeah, your mom and dad came by to help, wish I’d shown up earlier bud.”
“Yeah, I wanted to help! 😫
But you’re still gonna be here at the end of the summer right?”
“Don’t worry bud, I won’t be moving for a long time. When you get back, I’ll have something super cool to show you!”
“Really? What is it?”
“It’s a surprise 🤫”
“I’ll just ask grandpa Stan then lol.”
Well, that settled it, there was no time to wait. He would need to get fish for both himself and Ernesto in the morning
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Mason didn’t have any dreams when he slept. There was no alarm in the morning either. He even made himself an omelette with cheese and mushrooms; thank god for Wendy bringing the groceries; and got his T-shot done quickly when normally he was a bit precious about it. He felt good about unhitching the U-Haul and driving through town.
It wasn’t hard to find Grenda’s shop. Past the used car lot/psychic’s shop, next to the laser tag place and replacing the dance studio. On the way, it let him see just how many people moved here. He wondered which were loggers and which were agents. He was pretty sure the super tall redhead in flannel who looked like a Cuordoroy was a lumberjack, and the lady picking up a coffee from Greasy’s who had sunglasses and an earpiece was without a doubt an agent, but with others, it was hard to tell. Though he was sure he would find out in time.
When he got to the shop, he found that it was, quite predictably, called Grenda’s Pet Emporium. The sign itself was even pink and the lettering was done in a cursive font, perhaps more appropriate for a hair salon or dog groomer than for a full pet store. But that wasn’t any of his business. As Dipper walked in, he found that the place made use of the dance studio space to create a huge floor, showing off both the supplies and pets. And then he heard it.
“Guten tag!”
Dipper looked to the cash register and saw Marius with a smile and his hair tied back. The young baron looked like he belonged there, oddly enough. Perfectly comfortable in a pink polo and khakis. “Marius? You work here?”
“Ja! When Grenda and I are here at least. It’s relaxing and the people are polite enough, though they ask many questions. And I get to spend time with mein lovely wife and all these little animals.”
“That does sound like a nice gig. Is Grenda here by the way?”
“She is! Just wait for a moment!” With that, he headed into the back, returning with Grenda.
“Dipper! You moved here already?” She gave him a hug that absolutely cracked his spine.
“Y-yeah! I just got in yesterday! Mabel says hi by the way.” It was good to see Grenda hadn’t changed since he last saw her. Still the affectionate woman who’d befriended his sister all those years ago.
She soon let go of him, asking, “So, what brings you here? Besides saying hi, I mean.”
“Oh, I actually came to buy some fish and supplies. I already have a filled tank so I just need some water conditioner, a heater, and some decorations.”
“What species were you thinking of,” asked Marius.
“I was thinking maybe tetras, but honestly, as long as it’s fresh water and won’t eat other fish, it works for me.”
“That’s great, 'cause we’ve got a bunch of tanks that I just stocked.” And so she led Dipper to the aquatics section. And she wasn’t kidding about the selections. She had tetras, suckers, goldfish, and more. All with meticulous care guides seemingly written by Grenda herself. Tellingly, she had no bettas in sad little cups. He was honestly pretty impressed and feeling almost serene watching so many fish.
That was immediately shattered when he heard, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Pine Tree home after all this time.”
Dipper nearly jumped at it, almost in disbelief. It couldn’t be, could it? He looked in the direction of the voice and saw a tank with only one resident. A yellow axolotl that was missing an eye. And though axolotls couldn’t make faces, Dipper could have sworn this one looked smug. “No, it can’t be,” he muttered to himself. He must have been going crazy.
“But it is, Pine Tree. Did you miss me? It’s been what, 18 years? You’ve really grown up, huh? At this rate, you’ll be a corpse soon. Speaking of, how’s Fordsy?”
Dipper blinked. What the hell? Was this axolotl even real? Dipper turned to Grenda and asked, “Hey, what’s this guy’s story?”
Grenda looked in the tank and, much to Dipper’s relief, rolled her eyes at the water dog, “Ugh, this guy. He’s an absolute nightmare is what he is. We tried breeding axolotls and when the first clutch hatched, this guy ate all his siblings! Even lost an eye in the process! And now he just lives here, acting all creepy and junk.”
Marius shuddered, “I still remember all the little gills.”
“And they were absolutely delicious.”
So Dipper definitely wasn’t going insane, but why couldn’t they hear the dream demon’s voice coming from the tank? Either way, he needed answers. And if this, reincarnation? Puppet? Of Bill’s was around here and could talk, well, he couldn’t just leave him. Who knew what else he would do? Plus people thought he was crazy at the best of times, the last thing he needed was to have a conversation with a Mexican salamander in the middle of a pet store. “So, is he for sale then?”
“Yeah, he is. But for you, Dipper, he's on the house.”
“Come on, don’t be like that, I’m worth at least 100 bucks!”
“Ja, anything to get him out of here.”
“Are there any fish he won’t eat?”
“Yeah, there are some species axolotls get along with, guppies, minnows, snails, that sort of thing.”
“I’ll take him then.”
“WHAT?”
“I’ll take the supplies and some tankmates too. So he doesn’t get lonely.” So Dipper could have some fish he actually liked.
“Alright, just keep an eye on him for a little while when you get home. Just to be safe.”
Dipper looked at Bill again and could have sworn he had a look of despair on his face.
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Dipper’s fish tank was a dream. Extra fine sand made up the substrate, the water was perfectly heated, and it had lots of hides and artificial plants. In the middle was the best and biggest hide. A replica of Teotihuacan, currently occupied by the tank’s axolotl. And that axolotl was pissed as he sat within that hide. Staring at Dipper as he sat on the couch across from him, drinking a Pitt Cola.
It was Dipper who broke the silence, the pit in the bottle rolling around like a shitty version of a Ramune marble as he put the soda down on the coffee table. “Ok, first things first. You should be dead. Why are you alive and possessing an axolotl.”
“Axolotl.”
“That’s what I said, axolotl.”
“No, it’s pronounced axolotl. And anyway, who said anything about possession? I was born like this, kid.”
“That doesn’t answer how the hell you’re even here!” Dipper stood up and began to pace. “I mean, you were erased from Grunkle Stan’s mind. That was supposed to, I don’t know, destroy your soul. You’re not supposed to be able to reincarnate or whatever this is!”
“Wow, you sure like making assumptions. Who said anything about my soul? How do you know I’ve ever even had one?”
Dipper glared at him and picked up his soda again, taking a swig from it like it was liquor and not a carbonated, fake-peach-flavored soft drink. “Ok then, why an axolotl? And how did you avoid getting destroyed?”
“That’s the fun part, I didn’t. I was dead. But before Stanley got to me, I called to a being more ancient than any of the universes. A being of creation, merciful but firm.”
“Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?”
“Shut up! Anyways, he heard me and told me I’ve got to be in another place, another time, another form. It just so happened that the form was in his image, the place was a nursery tank in Austria, and the time was last year.”
Dipper groaned, rubbing his face. “Ok, so, you got reincarnated by an axolotl god. What were you doing in Grenda’s store?”
“I lived there!”
“You know that’s not what I meant!”
“Then I’m done talking!”
“Look, it’s not like you can exactly enact your plans anymore now that you’re in an SCP-foundation scientist’s fish tank-”
The axolotl opened its mouth and Dipper heard that horrible, maniacal laughter. A laugh that made his hair stand on end and that brought back memories of being 12 and incorporeal.
“No wonder you look so dead! I just thought you weren’t sleeping again, but no, you’re a stooge! A goon for some nosy zombies! After all this time, after all those heroics, you’re still someone’s puppet!” His gills flapped at the word heroics
“I am not!” Dipper slammed his empty cola bottle down on the coffee table. “You’re lucky that I’m not logging you as an anomaly! I should be bringing you into the office!”
“And yet that chatty, girly monster and her old-money, wife guy husband couldn’t hear me. If you turn me in, we’re gonna end up as SCP 30629313-1 and 30629313-2. You’re stuck with me.”
Dipper sat back down, glaring at Bill as Bill stared back with his one blank eye. An eye that betrayed much more brain power than any amphibian should have. And Dipper knew he was right. He couldn’t tell anyone at work that Bill was alive. Both for his own safety and the safety of others.
“Ok, but at least tell me why you’re like, you know, this.” He gestured toward Bill. “Why do you remember that you were a dream demon? Reincarnation isn’t supposed to work that way.”
“You’re funny. You think reincarnation is something that can be cataloged like that? No, even your foundation has a couple of reincarnations that remember everything, some that don’t know anything at all, and some that are in between. Like, say, that poor kid that they keep in her very own site.”
“Don’t even joke about that, man. It’s not like anyone wants her there.”
“Yeah, yeah, cold not cruel. Either way, it looks like we’re at an impasse, two monsters killing time.”
“Yeah, two monsters…” He sat there for a bit, thinking, before he went for his keys and told Bill, “I’ve gotta go. If you eat my fish, I’ll flush you down the toilet.”
“And risk her ripping you apart with her bare hands?”
“Yes, now leave my fish alone!” And with that, he left, heading straight to Mabel’s place.
There was no way in hell that Dipper was telling the foundation about Bill. And he didn’t want to be alone in this either. So she was the only person he could tell.
When Dipper arrived at Mabel’s house, he knocked and she answered, “Dipper, hey! Come on in!”
As soon as he walked in, Dipper heard sniffing and felt something touching his leg. He looked down and asked, “You got another pig?”
“Yeah, that’s Baby! Isn’t she just the cutest little thing?”
“Yeah, she is! When did you get her?”
“This morning!”
Baby proceeded to chew on Dipper’s pant leg. She was a black and white pig whereas Waddles had been just pink, with marks on her sides and one black spot over her eye. He picked her up and she squealed, so he put her back down and she trotted off somewhere. Mabel then finally brought Dipper into her living room and he got a good look at the decor. It was very Mabel, with a lot of sparkles and cats, but not necessarily in an eye-burning way. The sparkles, plentiful as they were, were mostly accents, the pictures on her pillows tasteful. Not to mention the comfortable-looking knitted throw blankets. It was as if a kindly grandmother discovered blingee.
“So, what’s with the visit? You already done unpacking?”
“Haha, um, well, no. You see, I, uh, have something to show you. And you have to promise to not tell anyone on site.”
Mabel’s expression went from a smile to a suspicious frown. “Dipper, did you try to break your way into the gnome lodge again?”
“That was one time and no!” He sighed and took out his phone, bringing up a picture he’d taken of the one-eyed axolotl, “He look familiar to you?”
Mabel, knowing Dipper wouldn’t mess with her about work matters, looked at the axolotl carefully, but didn’t see much wrong with it. “Ok, what am I looking at?”
“Mabel, it’s yellow and has one eye! Axolotls should be able to grow those back!”
“Wait, it’s not pronounced axolotl?”
“Yeah, no, it’s pronounced axolotl. But here’s the thing, Mabel. What else do we know has one eye, is yellow, and,” he gave a shout as Mabel shoved a pillow in his face. It had a birthday cake scent pack from Build-A-Bear in it.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Dipper! I know where you’re headed with this and it’s messed up!” She took the pillow away from his face so he could breathe. “What’s making you think that anyways? Did a ghost haunt you from Site-19 or something?”
“No! I’m sorry! But it really is Bill. He talked to me in the shop and everything. So I bought him from Grenda and put him in my fish tank for containment.”
“And you’re sure he’s actually talking? It’s not just another ghost you picked up?”
“Yeah, I even have proof.”
Dipper swiped through his phone then, pulling up a video of the back seat of his car, focusing on the axolotl in one of the plastic transport bags. Dipper could hear Bill yelling as he pawed at the bag and thrashed, “THIS IS INHUMANE PINETREE! AN AFFRONT! RELEASE ME! JUST DROP ME OFF IN A LAKE OR SOMETHING! MASON!” And then the video stopped, not wanting to film too long for the sake of his fish.
He looked at Mabel and she blinked. “Dipper, I didn’t hear anything. Was I supposed to?”
“What?”
“Yeah. It’s weird but it’s not anything I would call headquarters over.”
Dipper sighed, running his hand through his hair. Had he just hallucinated that? He figured that if he could hear it, then maybe through being twins, Mabel could hear it. He had clearly been wrong. But then, if it had been a hallucination, he wouldn’t be hearing it on the video.
Mabel looked at him and, seeing her brother sad and despondent, got an idea. “How about we head to your place and you let me see him? Two eyes are better than one, after all. Besides, Baby needs to get to know her uncle.”
“You know what? Yeah, let’s go. Seeing him in person will probably be better.”
With that, they headed to Dipper’s car, Mabel putting Baby in the back seat and buckling her with a dog seatbelt. As they drove, Mabel got on her phone and started texting. She asked Dipper, “You already pick out an outfit for what you’re wearing to dinner tomorrow?”
“Ugh, I almost forgot about that. I haven’t even unpacked all my clothes yet.”
“You haven’t even been back a day and you’re forgetting about family stuff? Dipper I thought you agreed to move here to not have work on your brain all the time.”
“Can we not do this? I mean, Mabel, this isn’t some cursed app. Bill nearly killed us when we were just kids.”
“Uh, yeah! I was there Dipper!” She sighed and pinched her nose. “You know what? Forget I said anything. I’ll help you unpack when we get there.”
Baby snorted in the backseat.
When they got to Dipper’s building, Mabel flashed her badge at the front desk so fast that they thought it said CIA to let her bring a pig in.
“Mabel, what the hell?”
“Oh like you’ve never done it before Dipper, it was just to get Baby in,”
“Well, I haven’t,” Dipper lied.
Mabel just hummed and said, “If you say so.”
When they walked in, they found the tank right where they left it, with Baby going off to explore. Furthermore, Bill had, luckily, left his tankmates alive. But he was digging around the sand at the bottom of the tank much more energetically than an axolotl should be. When he detected that he was being watched, he stopped and started floating instead, looking as innocent as a newborn puppy.
“What are you doing?”
“None of your business.” He looked at Mabel and couldn’t help but comment, “Shooting Star didn’t believe you, huh?”
“No, she did, she just wanted to see you for herself.”
“What’d he say, Dipper?”
“He thinks you didn’t believe me.”
“And what was he doing?”
“It’s supposedly none of my business.”
“It IS none of your business.”
“It is my business because if you clog up the filter you’ll kill my other fish.”
Bill almost seemed to squint and Mabel definitely noticed it. She watched as he swam to his temple hide and saw how comfortable he looked in a pyramid structure. But she had to be sure, “Can he understand me, Dipper?”
“Loud and clear.”
So, Mabel went fully up to the tank and asked Bill, “What was the first thing I found in my prison bubble?”
Bill stared at Mabel with his one good eye, his front foot digging into the sand as if he was stimming while he thought. “The bubble was an automated spell that read your mind and gave you whatever you wanted. I didn’t enchant squat in there, kid. What I did do is grab your pig and drop him in. You humans just love your pets, after all. He would have been one of the first things you saw.”
“It was Waddles, the real Waddles. He didn’t personally give you anything else. You thought up that whole world.”
Mabel nodded, “Yeah, that’s right. I found Waddles and everything came later. But why is it that only you can hear him?”
“Who said only Pine Tree can hear me? I don’t remember piloting your meat suit around.”
“It seems like it’s cause he possessed me?”
“Do I wanna know his exact words?”
“Not really, no.”
Mabel sat on the couch, Dipper joining her, and Baby came by, wanting up too. Both humans stared at the tank as Bill stared back at them.
“So, what are you gonna do? It doesn’t exactly look like your setup’s temporary."
“I don’t know Mabel. He’s not exactly anomalous except for the whole talking to people he possessed. “
“Yeah, you and Ford would be part of his case file then.”
“So I have to stay here,” Bill interjected
“Yeah, I have to agree, looks like he’s staying,” Dipper said.
“We telling anyone?”
“See, that’s the part I’m not sure about, Mabel. Because who are we gonna tell? Ford? He’s just gonna get worried. Mayor Tyler? He’s just gonna taze us. Gideon?” Out of the question.
Baby snorted as she got comfy on the couch and Mabel sighed. “You’re right, it’s just, ugh, it’s another secret we have to keep.”
“I know, Mabel. But we have to. Until we figure out what’s up at least.”
Mabel cracked her neck and nodded. “Until we figure out what’s up.” She then got up. “Let me go help you unpack. We’ve got to get you dressed for tomorrow!” She then ran to Dipper’s bedroom. A threat that she was going to come up with something truly horrific to wear while she rifled through his clothes.
And Dipper couldn’t laugh as he told Mabel, “Don’t even think about He had to try and prevent her from seeing how many of the same shirts he owned. They didn’t see Bill go back to his digging.
Afa vlr qefkh vlr tbob pxcb
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If you liked this fic, please check out my writing tag (Sam writes and sam’s writing) here on tumblr. For author notes and the previous chapter, check the links in the reblogs. The hint for this chapter's code is 3 back
#sam speaks#sam writes#sam's writing#gravity falls#gravity falls fanfiction#scp foundation#scp foundation fanfiction#dipper pines#trans dipper#mabel pines#stanford pines#stan pines#grenda#marius gravity falls#soos ramirez#melody gravity falls#bill cipher#mabel gets a new pig yay#nothing bad in this chapter so no mature label
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Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°
“Yeah? You think we’re done? We’re not done.”
→ Chapters list ←
⚘6. Planting the Wrong Seed
🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞
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⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader
⚘Synopsis: You prepare to go to the potluck with Seojoon but find that your day is not going the way that you planned, thanks to a certain someone lingering in your thoughts… if only you knew the shit that was going to unfold.
⚘Genre:Forbidden love
⚘Word count: 12k+
⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of anxiety, mentions of sex, heavy kissing, angst, CANINE POETRY I REPEAT CANINE POETRY, religious metaphors (the story is not religious but makes references to a higher power, karma, fate, etc.), mentions of anxiety, mentions of nightmares, subtle arguing, jealousy, bullying? (Sort of, there’s a bitch in this chapter who makes cunty comments), mentions of alcohol, mentions of cooking (I know this is triggering for some people), heavy tension, cheating, mentions of cheating, mentions of falling out of love/breaking up. Let me know if I miss anything!
⚘Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.
⚘A/N: Chapter 6 is out! I really hope you enjoy it. Please don’t be mad at me. 😀 lol I told you it gets dramatic. I can’t wait to keep writing, shit gets soooo messy but also some very important lessons get learned. DON’T CHEAT AND DON’T BE AFRAID TO LOVE WHO YOU LOVE OK!!! Also, men are stupid sometimes. 🥴 ok love you!!!
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↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :
♪Glimpse of Us - Joji
♪Bad Habit - Steve Lacy
♪Miss Understood - DPR Ian
♪Hopelessly Devoted To You - Olivia Newton-John (this one is VERY important)
♪Cop Car - Mitski
♪I Bet On Losing Dogs - Mitski (again)
♪Love Me Again - V
♪I LOVE YOU HOE - Odetari Ft. 9lives
✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧
Unfortunately for you, when you wake up after your not-so-peaceful slumber, you have this feeling deep down in your gut that something bad will happen today.
You wake up sometime the next morning, a bit delirious at first because you didn’t get as deep of a sleep as you normally would have. Seojoon is gone already, which isn’t abnormal. He works early mornings so often times he’s gone before you even wake. And in typical Seojoon fashion, he left a little note and cup of coffee that he picked up for you at the convenience store across the street before he left.
You pick up the note and your coffee, take a sip as you read it;
Went to work, text me when you wake up, and don’t forget about tonight.
-Seojoon, aka your boyfriend :)
The usual note he leaves… except the sign off leaves you feeling a bit off. Because normally, it’s just his name. But this time, he added the joking ‘boyfriend’ to it. This should be considered a cute gesture, because he basically is your fucking boyfriend.
But it doesn’t feel cute. Not after the amount of times he talked about being not-boyfriend-girlfriend last night. In fact, as you stare at the note, you realize he is starting to seem bit persistent about it, but its so subtle that you didn't catch it until now.
Maybe he’s getting tired of waiting… it’s been months, so you can't blame him. But also, you can’t help how you feel, and you don’t really feel ready to add the label. So simple for most people, but for you… it’s not simple at all.
It’s like planting a fucking seed, and you aren’t sure if you want him to plant that seed yet.
You aren’t sure if you want to plant his seed, or anyone else's ever again.
It’s too early for this shit, so you decide not to overthink it. You’re off of work today, and you have to figure out what the fuck to cook for this potluck full of people you don’t know. You’re nervous enough as it is, you don’t need to overthink some silly little note your not-boyfriend left. He was probably just being playful.
You’ve become very good at denying things… pretending that you're fine when you really aren't fine. Something you haven’t realized yet.
So you get up and get yourself ready for the day. You do your skincare, brush your hair, brush your teeth, drink your coffee… a normal day, just like any other.
But you begin to realize that the feeling from last night, the same one that you went to bed with and woke up with, it lingers. That little zap feeling you felt when you dreamt, and when he left, that feeling impending doom that you can't quite shake, it's still very much there.
It’s like a little fluttering in your stomach. Something between butterflies and worms, maybe. Subtle, but there. It could be because you dreamt of him again, because you’re meeting Seojoon's friends, or because he has started bringing up making it official all of a sudden… or maybe your gut is trying to tell you something.
Nah, anxiety, surely. Not denial, not intuition… it's just a bad case of anxiety that was triggered by a bad dream. You're sure of it.
After getting yourself dressed and putting on some light makeup, you know you need to calm your shit if tonight is going to go well and be enjoyable for you and everyone else. So you make a little list of ingredients you need to cook something nice for his friends. A way to a man’s heart is food, as they say, it’ll be a nice gesture that you add to the potluck. You decide to cook two things since Seojoon probably won't have time to make something to bring himself. You'll make something sweet and something savory; chocolate chip cookies, a crowd fav, and classic American mac and cheese, because everyone loves cheese. Both things are easy to make, and you’re sure everyone will like them because they’re simple classics.
You’re totally not subconsciously making flower boys past favs. You’re totally not still thinking about him or that dream. You're absolutely-positively-totally not doing little things that remind you of him… not at all.
After you make your list, you grab your bag and wallet, send Seojoon a little text letting him know you’re awake and preparing for tonight. You know he was probably waiting on it, and he was waiting for it. He was actually anticipating you trying to make an excuse not to go tonight, so he feels a bit giddy knowing you’re actually putting not bailing on him. That's my girl, he thinks to himself when he reads the text.
The rest of your day sort of melds together. You do your best to stay on track, even as you pass the floral department at the grocery store. You linger there, looking at the array of autumn flowers that are bright, warm, and blooming... You also look at the array of wilting bouquets that are marked down in price, on sale because no one wants them...
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you reach down and graze the tip of one of the flowers petals. Your heart pounds so hard you swear it might break through your chest, because although it seems like such a simple and curious touch, it isn’t. You’re afraid that just like in the dream, the petals will start turning brown and dry, and the flowers on the shelf will start dying. You’re afraid that your touch is indeed poison.
But nothing happens. They merely stay in place as they did before you touched them, they don’t die any faster, but they don’t stop wilting either. These flowers are neutral to you, and your touch isn’t poisonous as you suspected it may be… not to them, anyway.
You aren’t thinking of him. Not today. You can’t. You won’t. You don’t know why it’s so hard all of a sudden after months of working on yourself, but today of all days cannot be the day that you start reliving memories and asking yourself what if I stayed?
And even though you tell yourself you won’t think of him today, you buy one of the wilting bouquets. Because you feel bad for the flowers that no one seems to want. You feel like you relate to them in some fucked up metaphorical way, or did in the past, at least. You wonder if you can nourish them and nurture them to health, much like you did a certain Bearded Iris many months ago.
Dangerous thoughts for a girl who swore she was moving on and healing just fine.
After you’re done at the grocery store, you make your way back home. You make sure to blare music as soon as you walk in the door to prevent your thoughts from becoming too loud, and you very carefully avoid any love songs that seem to try to make an appearance.
You get to work making the cookie dough, following the ‘secret’ recipe you’ve known since you were a teenager. It’s very rich, contains lots of butter and sugar, probably not the healthiest choice, but every time you make them people go crazy for them. You even won a baking competition back in school using this recipe.
If only they knew this was a recipe on the Betty Crocker website.
You mix the ingredients with familiar motions and fill up several baking pans full of little nuggets of dough. Once every pan is full and there's no dough left, you start baking two sheet pans full at a time because your oven can't fit anymore than that.
You try to ignore the memories that surface when you smell them baking.
“Please Y/N, just a little taste, bet you taste sweeter than these cookies… I need to test it, for science n’ shit.”
“No, you’ll get sick! It has raw eggs. Also isn’t that cannibalism? Kookie eating cookies?”
No. Stop. Fuck.
You make quick work of the mac and cheese after every sheet pan of cookies is finished baking. You let the cookies cool as you boil the elbow noodles and make the creamy cheese sauce, which thank god calls for intense focus, otherwise it’ll burn or become too thick and clumpy.
The mac and cheese recipe is pretty simple, it just requires your full attention up until the last step. This is a recipe you learned online as well, and so far every time you make it everyone loves it, even those who don't really like cheese.
One person specifically was very overdramatic about loving it the first time you made it for him.
“Fuuuck. I should marry you. If I marry you can I have this every day?”
“I am NOT marrying you, dummy. And you’d get diabetes. Do you know how much cheese is in here?”
“Don’t care, blah blah blah, marry me and make me this shit every single day.”
Back when times were simpler, before you knew of him being married. You wonder what would have happened if you played along, said you would marry him and make him mac and cheese every day for the rest of your lives... Should’ve accepted his offer.
You start to become irritated. Because this hasn’t happened in months. You’ve coped, you’ve moved on, you have a not-boyfriend now and you’re supposed to be thriving. Before last night, Jungkook was not consuming you anymore... whereas today, you cannot fucking shake him.
That’s what you thought, that this shit was done. Did one nightmare really fuck it all up? Or is it something deeper?
It doesn’t help that the persistent feeling in your gut continues to linger. It won’t go away and it’s fucking annoying. Like a goddamn fly. Maybe it isn’t butterflies, but a bunch of fucking flies fluttering around in your stomach making you feel nauseous and uneasy. So disgusting.
The zaps never fully went away. In the beginning, after the night he left, it was like it continued to happen after the first time. You’d have panic attacks and feel these zaps in your chest, which Sohee witnessed a few times and told you was normal when having when dealing with loss and change mixed with anxiety She recommended you see someone professional about it, but you didn’t take her advice. It was heartbreak, not a fucking psychotic break…
Ok, maybe almost a psychotic break, but it never got to that point. And with time, the zaps went away for the most part. Just like the lingering feelings he left behind. It all dimmed down to a very dull buzz that was barely noticeable.
Until today. Until last night. Until he decided to invade your dreams again like a fucking intruder.
You shake your head at yourself. Because this is fucking ridiculous. He isn’t here, he isn’t coming back, and you’re supposed to be fucking over it. For fucks sake, you’re making junk food for your new mans friends. You need to get a grip.
Ignore it. Deny it until it goes the fuck away and you forget about it. Maybe if you pretend, you won't even notice it by the time you need to leave tonight.
You finish up the mac and cheese and put it in a large casserole dish, top it with even more cheese and your garlic butter bread crumbs, and then pop it into the oven on medium heat to get all gooey inside and crispy on top. While it bakes, you pack up the cookies in a portable Tupperware container. Now all you have to do is get yourself ready.
You hope like hell you can make yourself look as good as the food, because the dark circles under your eyes are prominent even under the makeup you put on today. This is why you need your goddamn beauty sleep.
While the mac and cheese finishes baking, you fuss over an outfit in your room. It’s a potluck, so you're sure it's casual… but you don’t want to dress too up or down. Normally, you don’t really overthink these things... but again, your nerves are wrecked today. So everything feels worse than what it really is. You're overthinking things far more than normal.
After making your room a damn mess and covering the floor in failed outfits, you decide on wearing a simple floral dress that doesn’t show too much skin, but is still fun. The base color is a deep red, speckled with little white flowers all over. It’s chilly outside due to the changing seasons, so you pair it with some thick thigh high socks and boots. And of course you need a jacket.
A certain jacket that you’ve told everyone you bought for yourself as a treat, but what they can’t see is that it’s covered in an invisible purple and white floral pattern, too.
You touch up your makeup, do it as you always do, and decide to leave your hair down, but pack a hair tie in your bag just in case. You check the clock, and it’s right around 6:30 pm so you know Seojoon is showing up soon, probably in the next thirty minutes or so. You're surprised at how fast time flew today, but also thankful that its nearly over.
Fuck. You feel sick.
After doing one last onceover of yourself, you walk into the kitchen, only to freeze when you see Seojoon is already here… that damn spare key. Maybe it was a bit fast moving to give him your spare key... You were just so used to someone else having it, so you didn't think twice before offering it to Seojoon.
Funny how you gave him a spare key to your apartment but won’t be his fucking girlfriend yet.
He must have gotten off of work early today, because normally he’d be here around seven after going home to check on Simba and change out of his work clothes, but judging by his casual attire, he’s already done all of that. You’re unsure as to why he didn’t text you and let you know… or, fuck, maybe he did and you just didn’t notice. You haven’t exactly been paying attention to your phone thanks to the thoughts plaguing you tonight. You've been all over the place. You’re surprised he didn’t immediately seek you out, but then you see the look on his face… and he doesn’t look very happy.
“Secret admirer?”
He arches a brow that is disguised as playful, but the twitch in his jaw gives him away. At first, you’re confused… until you see his fingers dancing around the petals of the forgotten, wilting, bouquet of flowers that you bought at the grocery store.
You have no fucking clue what comes over you, but you have the urge to scream at him... tell him not to touch what doesn’t belong to him, tell him to get away from them as if he’s the poison. It’s totally irrational, especially when he’s the one who seems to need reassurance here. You aren't sure why he automatically jumps to that conclusion, but you don't think too much about it.
It’s that damn dream. It’s corrupting you. Fuck, maybe you’re possessed. Possessed by the ghost of Jeon-fucking-Jungkook and its causing you to nearly bite Seojoon's head off over touching some dying flowers... You don’t know, but you almost want to laugh at yourself.
You swallow your outburst before it can escape and disguise it with a weary laugh as you make your way over to him.
“What? No, I got these myself. They were on sale and looked sad, wanted to see if I could bring some life back into them.”
This irks Seojoon. He also feels irrationally about it, but sort of regrets immediately jumping to conclusions. It nearly revealed his insecurities… or maybe something deeper than just insecurity. Projection, perhaps, but he’d never admit that.
He feels less of a man knowing you bought yourself fucking flowers, especially ones as pitiful as these. He thinks if you want flowers, he should be buying them for you. He buys them for you often, it's just that you never seem very interested.
He doesn’t like it and neither do you. You wish he’d get you something else, anything else, not flowers. Anything but flowers. It's such a sweet gesture, but as you have said to yourself so many times before, flowers are reserved for someone you refuse to talk to him about.
You grab the bouquet almost protectively and walk over to the sink, get on your tiptoes to start rummaging your cabinets for a proper vase to put them in.
“Should’ve just asked me for flowers, babe. You know I’d get you anything you want... those are just so fucking ugly.”
He laughs when he says it, shakes his head and walks over to where the cookies rest. He takes one from the container and starts nibbling on it, makes a face of almost disgust because fuck, why’re they so rich?
You don’t notice the face he’s making because you’re stuck on the fact that he called these flowers ugly. They aren’t. They’re just sad. Maybe you’re being oversensitive about something so fucking mundane, but it really rubs you the wrong way that he would call them ugly just because they’re wilting.
You wonder if he’s ever thought of you similarly, considering it was no secret when you met him that you weren’t flourishing like you once were. You were recovering from heartbreak, you were as wilted as you could get... much more wilted than these discount flowers.
“They’re not ugly, just need some TLC…” you mutter under your breathe as you fill up a vase full of water.
He doesn’t respond because he disagrees. These flowers are dying, there’s no saving them, that’s why they were marked down in price. No one wants dying flowers.
No one but you.
“Are these the cookies you’re bringing to the potluck?”
You glance at him as he asks. He’s starting to piss you off, which is just making your mood so much worse, you’re already nervous and anxiety-ridden, is he really going to choose today to be picky and pessimistic about shit?
“Yeah, why? Something wrong with them?”
You try to hide the bite in your tone as you place the flowers in their new vase. You fluff them up a bit, sprinkle some plant foot into the water and set them on your windowsill, hoping they’ll get some Sun in the morning.
He snorts at your comment about the cookies and shakes his head, “No, they’re just really… sweet. But you’re a sweet girl, guess I should’ve expected that, huh?”
He’s buttering you up now, because he can tell his comments are bothering you. He’s unsure which one of you are acting extra sensitive tonight, but he silently blames you. Maybe she’s on her period, she didn’t fuck me last night so would make sense, he thinks to himself. Such a man-coded thing to think...
That’s the good thing about Seojoon though; he thinks to himself. He often closets those little comments inside of his head. You’ve yet to have a real argument. The honeymoon phase is inevitably waning, but it’s still there. He doesn’t want to ruin that… because that’s normally when the women he dates start to grow tired of him.
But he wants to keep you. His little wildflower. His little stray cat.
If you knew half of the shit he thought to himself… he has a feeling you would grow tired of him quickly.
You don’t respond to his kiss-ass comment, instead you just shake your head at him. You don't want to argue, especially when you are the one feeling butt-hurt. After fussing over the flowers, you pull out the mac and cheese from the oven and cover the top with tinfoil. You find yourself hoping that tonight passes by quickly because you’re just not in the mood to pretend to be fine.
But you must. Pretend, deny, ignore, just for a little longer. It’s just a bad day, you tell yourself. You’re just sensitive, that’s all. This isn't his fault, it's yours for digging up dead flowers.
As you put the food inside of a bag, Seojoon grabs his coat. He can tell you’re not amused with him at the moment, and doesn’t want to push it. Wants to avoid pissing you off further because he’d be so fucking embarrassed if the first time he brings you around his friends is also the first time you guys argue.
So he does as he should and keeps his mouth shut. No reason to poke the bear.
“Ready to go?”
“Mhm.”
You also want to avoid arguing, obviously. This day has been bad enough, and tonight is supposed to be fun. So you keep your mouth shut just like him.
The communication is lacking.
You both walk down to his car after you lock up your apartment, and begin making your way to the potluck. The drive is silent, other than the music playing subtly in the background. At some point, Seojoon's shuffled playlist plays Hopelessly Devoted To You by Olivia Newton-John from the OG Grease soundtrack. And of course Seojoon starts fucking belting it to the top of his lungs as he drives, putting on a whole ass concert for you to try and cheer you up.
“But now… there's nooowhere to hiiide,
Since you pushed my love asiiiiide,
I'm ooout of my head,
Hopelessly devoted to yoooooou!”
And despite your sour mood and the flies in your stomach, it does cheer you up. It’s silly. He looks ridiculous, a grown ass man singing to you like a damsel in distress while driving. You’re thankful he did it, because your giggles are a good distraction from the lingering thoughts of the man from your past haunting you today.
You barely register the lyrics, Seojoon drowns out what the song is saying entirely with his very off-key terribly singing and the way he dramatically grips your hand like a microphone.
But if you did notice the lyrics, you’d have gotten the sinking feeling that this song is foreshadowing your night.
Thank god you didn’t notice the lyrics.
After this, the mood lightens significantly. You find yourself chattering with him along the way, making little playful comments as you always do. You’re still nervous, but you have a false sense of security now. You were just in your head, that damn dream messed up your entire day and it was causing you to nearly take it out on Seojoon. There’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re meeting new people, this will be fun. A step in the right direction to your possible relationship with him.
This is good. Everything is going to be fine, surely it will. Just a bad day.
At exactly 7:10 pm, you arrive at Taehyung's house. It’s very lovely. It isn’t some sort of luxurious mansion or anything, but it is much nicer than your own small apartment. You can tell his friends must be well off; the various nice cars parked around show that they all must work hard for what they have, which makes sense because, as far as you're aware, they're all a bit older than you. The house has a nice sized front yard, and the outside is clean looking, minimal furniture on the porch, but it still looks cozy. Doesn’t look too big or intimidating. Just a typical house for guys around Seojoon's age and status.
Makes you feel less nervous about lacking something. You’ve always thought of Seojoon as an humble guy, but his job is very well paying and he doesn’t want for anything, so you assume his friends are the same. It was a bit intimidating to think about because your job isn’t exactly bringing you riches, but it does make you happy.
You just want to impress them. Maybe a little too much. It seems silly because you're an adult who has nothing to prove to anyone. This isn't high school, you aren't here to try and fit in... but if Seonjoon's friends decide they don't like you, you may as well end it tonight. Relationships never end or even begin well if those surrounding you don't get along who you are dating... or not-dating-but-sort-of-dating in this case.
That's why the pressure feels a bit much at this moment. No, you don't care what they think of you, but also, you kind of do. Because you want things with Seojoon to work.
Seojoon parks at an empty spot on the side of the street, and pats your thigh as he says, “You ready? Or you gonna make a run for it when you get out of the car?”
It’s only meant as a joke, but he really shouldn’t tempt you. He’s lucky he knows how to make you laugh.
“Don’t tempt me.”
He snorts at thatbut holds his hands up in mock surrender. He gets out of the car and opens your door for you as he always does—such a gentlemen. He would have carried the bag of food, too, but you insisted you do it. You want to make sure they know that you came bearing treats, that you made this for them and for Seojoon.
Once you get on the porch, he knocks on the door. You feel those flies in your stomach swirling around, and you wish so badly that you never thought of them as flies, because it makes the feeling a lot more intimidating. Butterflies are much more appealing than flies.
The door swings open, and you see a tall man smiling fondly at Seojoon. His smile is boxy, and you immediately recognize it as the smile Seojoon described as belonging to Taehyung. You love him already.
“Joon, come in. Ooooh and you’ve brought a pretty girl with you too!”
Of course, Taehyung knows who you are. You’re Seojoon's girl. Seojoon wasn’t joking when he said he talks about you often, always bragging about you and maybe exaggerating things a little too much in his excitement.
As you walk in, you say kindly, “Its nice to meet you finally, I’m Y/N.”
Taehyung smiles down at you as Seojoon removes his jacket, “Likewise, I’ve heard so much about you. Joon is fucking whipped for you.”
Seojoon immediately swats Taehyung on the head and gives him a scolding look. You find it funny how he seems to be embarrassed about that comment. Cute, even.
Seojoon isn’t embarrassed, though. He just doesn’t want Taehyung to say too much… doesn’t want him to slip up and call you his girlfriend before he has the chance to do it himself. Then it would be evident that he’s been referring to you as his girlfriend all this time. Can’t have that. Not yet.
“Hey! It’s true, you got hearts in your eyes n’ shit!” Taehyung gestures dramatically to Seojoon's face, and Seojoon rolls his eyes.
“Don’t listen to him, he’s being dramatic.” Seojoon retorts as he moves to take off your jacket for you.
You shake your head and subtly nudge his touch away… because you don’t want to take this jacket off. At the moment it’s like a security blanket. A warm hug in a moment when you’re feeling unsure. Safe. Safe like—
Nope. Not here. Stop.
“Ah, it’s ok, gonna keep it on. Thank you though.”
Seojoon's jaw ticks but he smiles to hide it. Doesn’t like that you didn’t let him act gentlemanly in front of his friend. But he reminds himself that you're an independent girl... even if it irritates him sometimes.
“Joonie! Ah! You’re here!”
You barely have a moment to think when you see a woman rush over to Seojoon like he’s her long-lost lover, wrap her arms around him, and hug him hard.
Oh, you don’t like that. You’ve never really been the jealous-possessive type, those feelings only occur when trust is lacking in a relationship. And as of now, you have no reason not to trust Seojoon...
But something about how comfortable she was being blatantly clingy like that really does not sit well with you.
You smile a bit awkwardly at Taehyung, who looks just as bewildered as you are in the moment, and then you turn to Seojoon and give him a silent look that says who the fuck is this?
Seojoon does look a bit tense as this woman embraces him. He hugs her back awkwardly and gives you an apologetic smile as he pulls away from her.
“Sena, hey, yeah I’m here. Brought my girl with me, too. Sena, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Sena... we work together.”
You smile politely at her as she turns to face you. Her smile looks just as fake as yours does. Sickly sweet, all teeth, but her eyes scream judgment.
It’s odd, though, because she looks so fucking familiar. You rack your brain quickly, trying to figure out where you know her from, but you come up empty. Maybe you’ve seen her when bringing Seojoon lunch or something.
“Nice to meet you Sena.”
She nods at you, reaches out and touches your jacket, which you nearly recoil from. She clearly lacks boundaries. You start to feel a bit more at ease seeing that she’s just a naturally touchy person, no need to read too much into why the fuck she just hugged Seojoon like she loved him.
“Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, Seojoon talks about you aaaall the time. I love your jacket by the way, did you get it from the thrift?”
Did you... get it... from the thrift?
Now, there’s nothing wrong with thrifting. In fact, you shop at the thrift often. It’s better for the environment, you find unique pieces, and it saves you money. Better than buying fast fashion or blowing money on shit like Gucci that’s overpriced and not as cute as the vintage pieces at the thrift.
But the way she said it... it’s not a compliment. You know damn well you’re not the only who noticed either, because Taehyung is looking at Seojoon like what the fuck, and Seojoon is looking at Sena like shut the fuck up.
What upsets you most is that this jacket is one of your most prized possessions. Will anyone ever know why? No. Absolutely not. But it’s precious to you, and you hate that she just tried to make you feel bad about it.
Regardless, you smile at her and shake your head, because you didn’t come here to cat fight with some woman who doesn’t have a filter or a sense of when to stop.
“Ah, thanks. No I didn’t get it from the thrift, was a treat for myself last autumn.”
You lie easily. You could just as easily tell her that it was a gift from someone near and dear to you, make her feel bad, but you already told Seojoon a long while ago that you bought it for yourself. Can’t get caught in your white lies.
She merely nods at you in response, reaches down to tug on one of the sleeves and you have to fight the urge to fucking backhand her for touching you without your permission again. Who does this bitch think she is?
“Oooh ok. My husband had a similar jacket last year but he threw it in the trash. Cute, though.”
Before you can even take in what she just said or come up with some sort of rebuttal, Seojoon cuts in. He gently wraps his arm around your waist and says, with a bit too chipper of a tone, "Right, well, I wanna introduce you to everyone else, Y/N. The guys are dying to meet you. It was nice seeing you, Sena."
He quickly drags you away from the infuriating woman just like that. Part of you wants to scold him for it, ask him why the fuck he didn’t say something to her or defend you. But you know in the back of your mind that he was most likely avoiding conflict just like you.
Great fucking start. You’ve met one woman, and she’s being a cunt. Surely, the other women here are nicer...
Once you enter the kitchen, he takes the bag of food from you and hands it to one of the guys, whom he introduces as Seokjin. Tall and handsome, looks almost as if he could be Seojoon’s brother, and the man clearly knows he’s good-looking, too. He seems pretty cocky but also very kind.
Seokjin waves you both off and says he’ll set the food out with the other treats so you can get acquainted with the rest of the guys. Seojoon grabs your arm, and although he’s being gentle, you wish he would stop fucking dragging you around. Again, you don't mean to be so sensitive, and you know it is most likely meant as a comforting gesture, but it's making you feel almost like a child.
It’s making you feel tense and a bit trapped... but you say nothing for the time being.
He brings you to the living room, which is very nicely decorated. Simple, but not too much. Taehyung has a good sense of style. Most of the decor is modern, black and white, but there are various pops of color around, and he has some fascinating pieces of art.
The pops of color dim a bit when you realize Sena is also in here. The spot next to her is empty, and she’s staring you down like an owl would stare at a damn kitten wandering around places it shouldn't be.
God, you hope not all of the girls here are like this... wait... where are the other girls? You take a quick look around and realize that you don't see any other woman here.
“Guys, this is Y/N, my girl. Y/N, this is Hoseok, Jimin, and Namjoon.”
Each of them wave at you as Seojoon introduces you, and you give them a polite smile. All of them are handsome guys, you’re realizing. Makes sense that Seojoon would have such attractive friends, considering he himself is attractive. But damn. They’re all so pretty.
Namjoons smile is one of the prettiest, his dimples stand out and his eyes are warm and welcoming. He’s tall like Jin and Seojoon, whereas Jimin is shorter, but looks fucking ethereal. You’re jealous of how plump his lips are, but he looks so damn sweet. And Hoseok literally reminds you of sunshine with the way he beams at you. Flowers love a bit of sunshine. You feel like you’ll get along with all of them great.
“Damn, Seojoon, she’s so pretty. No wonder you won’t shut the fuck up.”
Jimin smiles after he says it, his eyes scrunching into crescent moons as he giggles at Seojoon's disgruntled groan. The other guys join in… and you realize that you don't see any other woman here. The only woman in sight is Sena, which means the men here didn’t actually bring their partners, or they just don’t have one. You feel a bit deceived.
Either way, Seojoon lied, which you don’t like. Sure, you lied about the origin of your jacket, but that’s harmless compared to him lying about who was going to be here just to get you to agree to join him easily.
You don’t want to make any quick assumptions, though . Maybe you just haven’t met them yet. And if he did lie…. You’ll scold him later. But you have a sinking feeling that when he said the guys 'spouses/girlfriends' would be here, he meant only Sena.
“Nice to meet you Y/N, we’re all really glad you’re here. We’ve been wanting to meet you!” Namjoon says with a welcoming smile.
You start to feel a bit bad that you haven’t met them sooner, although you’re aware that Seojoon isn’t really that close to anyone here other than Taehyung. You almost hope that changes, because they all seem so pleasant so far, other than Sena. These are the types of guys you’d ask to hold you drink at the bar.
They all feel safe... similar to-
Nope.
“You really are pretty, Y/N, way too pretty for the likes of Seojoon. You remind me of a sunflower!” Hoseok says. He’s only playing, but the fact that he compares you to a flower makes you feel both flattered and… a bit melancholic.
Flowers are reserved from someone else, you think to yourself again for like the third fucking time today. Irritating, flowers are everywhere, and here you are, gatekeeping them for someone who is practically dead to you. But he was being sweet and has no clue that flowers are a sore spot for you. No one does. It's sweet that he thinks of you as a sunflower when you think of him as the sun. You feel like you could easily become best friends with Hoseok.
“Ah, wow, you’re all so sweet. Thank you. I’m really happy to be here too. I appreciate the warm welcoming.”
You feel yourself become a bit shy as Seojoon drags you to one of the couches to sit down. You nearly want to slap him across the damn head when he picks the spot next to Sena, because why the fuck would he do that? Why would he put you in that position? Especially considering when he sits down, he gives you the seat next to hers, which thankfully grants a bit of space between you that you assume is reserved for her husband... but even then, she's too close for comfort. You feel like you're sitting next to a snake.
But you don’t protest because it wouldn’t look good if you immediately shunned the only fucking woman here after being here for barely twenty minutes.
You wonder who her husband is out of all the guys, because they seem far too good for her. Maybe that’s a bit harsh, but nothing about this familiar woman screams kind. She eyes you like a hawk, while in the same breathe smiles brightly at everyone else here.
Maybe she’s a pick-me sort of girl, maybe it’s internalized misogyny, or maybe she just doesn’t like you for no good goddamn reason.
“Are the two grumps still outside smoking? The food's gonna get cold. Also, Y/N, these cookies are like crack. Holy fuck.”
Taehyung breaks you away from your thoughts about the snake sitting next to you as he walks into the living room, two cookies in his hand, cheeks stuffed full, and chocolate on his bottom lip. He really does remind you of a big kid, just as Seojoon described, and it’s flattering that he likes your cookies. It’s kind of a relief, even, considering Seojoon seemed not to be a fan of them earlier. At least someone likes them.
“I’m so glad you like—“
“I know right? My girlfriend is the best cook.”
“There they are, get your grumpy asses back inside we have food to eat.”
So much happens at once that you can't focus. You’re stunned in silence because of the way Seojoon just so casually called you his girlfriend, and no one even batted an eye. They accepted it as if this wasn't new information to them.
It’s one thing to refer to you as his girl because you refer to him as your man. But he knows how you feel about the label, and he knows damn well you would tell him when you’re ready to add it. Seojoon knows that you aren't ready. And instead of respecting that, he took it upon himself to announce your apparent relationship, meanwhile none of his friends congratulated him or even really reacted to it... which means this isn't the first time he has called you his girlfriend against your wishes.
You’re so caught up in this that you don’t notice the tiny sliver of space dip beside you. You don’t realize someone is pressed against your other side on the cramped couch. You don’t smell the familiar scent of baby powder and fresh linen. You don’t hear Namjoon as he introduces you to the body next to you.
Because you feel betrayed in some way. You question if you’re being dramatic, but you don’t like that he abruptly forced this label on you. You know it may be irrational, he has a damn key to your apartment, but it's not like there's no reason you are hesitant to fully commit. He doesn't know exactly why, but he has known from the start that you wanted to take things slow and go at your own pace. He just took that from you. It's even worse because it’s the first time you’ve met his friends. It puts you in an incredibly uncomfortable position because if you deny it, you make both of you look bad.
There were signs, though... Such as how he kept bringing it up last night and his little hint in the note he left this morning. You just never expected Seojoon would so blatantly cross a boundary like this.
You tune back in when you see Namjoon gesturing to the man sitting on the couch across from you, “and this is Yoongi, he’s quiet and looks kinda grumpy, but he’s just shy. He’s really sweet.”
The man who’s apparently named Yoongi flips Namjoon off and then nods at you, “Hey." He says simply.
You try to bring yourself down from your oversensitive feelings because you don’t want anyone to think you’re being rude. But god, you’re still reeling because of Seojoon. It doesn’t help that he has his fucking hand on your thigh, either. You have been having such a hard time controlling your emotions today, and none of this is helping.
You smile at Yoongi but say nothing, because he’s already talking to Taehyung. You don’t take offense to it, in fact you’d thank him for letting you off easily if you could, because right now you don’t think you could speak with a stable voice.
Seojoon can tell you’re upset, but he acts oblivious. Because he knows damn well what he did and he knows the reason for it was wrong… He was jealous. In fact, he was jealous from he moment you both walked in and everyone was commenting on how pretty you were. He knows they were just being kind, but something about Taehyung commenting on how good those cookies were set him off heavily. Made him feel the need to be clear about what you were to him. They all know you as his girlfriend anyway, but he isn't close to everyone here... he needed them to know that he does have a claim on you, even if you don't know it yourself.
And he knows you aren’t an object to claim, but he’s only a man…
“Nice jacket. Your boyfriend get it for you?”
For fucks sake, what is it with people and this jacket tonight? And now they're calling him your boyfriend. Not fucking helping.
You come out of your silent fit and realize that someone is sitting next to you, sandwiched between you and Sena, which must mean this is her husband. And just like her, his tone is almost insulting. What the hell do they have against this precious piece of clothing? Are they Calvin Klein haters?
You’re debating whether or not to pop off at whoever this man is, but his voice makes chills run up and down your spine. Sounds... familiar. Eerily familiar.
You turn to face him, wanting to get a look at him before you say something passive-aggressive because maybe he isn't trying to be rude, but is just gruff. You also want to know why his voice sounds so familiar, why he smells so familiar, and why the flies in your stomach just multiplied by ten and something is telling you, 'Don't fucking look, Y/N.'
And the moment you look at him, you understand. You wish so badly that you could run the fuck away.
There’s no way this is happening to you right now. There is no fucking way that whoever controls fate and karma hates you this much.
It is impossible for this man to be sitting next to you right now.
Jeon Jungkook stares right at you, and it's as of time stops. His eyes aren’t as kind as you remember them, but his pupils are blown to absolute shit as he stares at you, and his nostrils are flaring with each breathe he takes.
You blink rapidly, because surely you’re hallucinating. Maybe you finally did have your psychotic break. Maybe you’re bat-shit-fucking-crazy and now you’re seeing things that aren’t really there. You almost hope that you are currently going insane.
But no. You feel his warmth, and you finally realize why you recognized his voice and that smell that is so unique to him, and why Sena seemed so familiar in the beginning.
Because Sena is the woman that you’ve been stalking on Instagram periodically to get tiny glimpses of your flower. Sena is the fence that surrounded him all that time, the cage, much like her nails are possessively curled around his bicep right now, keeping him under lock. Sena is the reason that you had to watch your flower be ripped out of your shared soil and taken away from you. So many months ago, but as you stare at him, it's as if the wound is fresh and you never fucking grieved him.
Sena is his fucking wife.
You don’t know which is more earth shattering; the fact that he is sitting in front of you right now, or the fact that he’s married to this witch.
How the fuck didn’t you recognize her sooner?
You don’t know what to do. And oh, it is so fucking ironic how he is sandwiched between you and Sena, and you are sandwiched between him and Seojoon. Such a fucking tragedy.
You may as well jump off a cliff... or play dead. Act like a fucking opossum to get out of this situation. You don’t know if you want to cry or laugh at the irony of it all, at the fact that for months you worked on getting over this man, only for him to end up right fucking beside you in your not-boyfriends group of friends.
Right when you thought shit was getting better.
Or was it? Because you had that nightmare last night. You’ve felt anxiety ridden all day. Every little thing was reminding you of him out of nowhere after months of slowly letting go.
The signs were there, and maybe the universe was trying to tell you. Anxiety over intuition is bullshit, clearly… you didn't listen. Always trust your gut.
“I asked you a question. Did. Your. Boyfriend. Get. You. That jacket?”
Torn away from your thoughts once more, you nearly flinch at his tone of voice. He sounds so fucking…. Mean. And he knows damn well your ‘boyfriend’ didn’t get you this jacket. It’s his fucking jacket. So why is he doing this?
“No, she got it from the thrift. Looks like the one you trashed doesn’t it?”
Wrong fucking time for her to open her stupid fucking mouth.
You feel like you are going to freak out. You are so overwhelmed that you can't even say anything.
Jungkook wants so badly to smirk at this. Because he knows you didn’t get it from the thrift and he knows he never threw that jacket out. Little does Sena know, the jacket he allegedly threw in the trash is the exact one on your body right now.
“Stop being so grumpy.” She scolds him, and has the fucking nerve to take the palm of her hand and push on his head like some fucking dog trying to steal someone’s food.
He doesn’t even react. That’s what’s most devastating of everything that has transpired so far, you think. Out of all that has happened in the last few minutes, this is what bothers you the most. She just subtly degraded him, which may not seem as harsh as you think, but the way his jaw ticked when she did it showed that it wasn't playful. He's used to it, which means she does shit like that often.
Which also means he can’t possibly be as happy as he looks in those pretty pictures on her Instagram.
All this time, he hasn’t been as ok as you thought. You don’t even need him to tell you; you see it in his eyes. Pupils are still dilated to shit as his eyes stay on you, but his eyes express nothing other than bitterness, loneliness, and a sort of longing only he ever looked at you with.
Fuck. You can’t breathe.
No one else seems to notice the tension between you both, or that he’s staring at you as if he’s a starving man looking at a meal being consumed by someone else. Seojoon is talking to Taehyung about something, and the guys around you are joining in, everyone is oblivious to the loud silence stretching between you and Jungkook.
The only one privy to the tension is Yoongi, as quiet as a mouse and as observant as a cat. But you don’t see it. You don’t see anything other than a dead flower taunting you the same way it does in your dreams.
It’s funny because Jungkook can see the turmoil written on your face. Even after all this time, he knows your tells so fucking well. The way your eyes continuously flutter when you blink, the way you’re picking at your nails and bouncing your leg, and the way your eyes won't hold his. He knows you’re fucked right now… and he almost feels satisfaction in it.
Because unlike you, he didn’t move on. After he left, he was a fucking mess. That first month without you was hell, and he was alone throughout it all. His wife was gone, her business trip was conveniently extended another two weeks, so he was able to blubber like a baby and break shit in fits of emotion without anyone noticing. He drank like an alcoholic to try and numb the feeling of complete despair that came with you being gone.
What really tore him up, but also pushed him, was when you blocked his number.
What he didn't expect was silence. So when he woke up and re-read what he sent, he sent another apology... because no matter how badly he wished you would extend an olive branch of some sort, he would never want to make you uncomfortable. So he sat there and typed a very lengthy apology for disrespecting your wishes and ever putting you in this situation to begin with. Once he sent it, he sat there and waited for it to deliver… only for the message to turn green. Because you fucking blocked him.
He knows this was the right thing for you to do. You did not owe him anything, and you needed to move on. But god, the fact that you took away his only point of connection that he still had to you, it made him feel so out of control, so fucking bitter and sad inside.
He tried to take this as sign to do better, to move on himself. Because as you have both acknowledged many times before, he wasn’t yours. His heart still very much belonged to you, but he could never fully give himself to you. He was married to Sena. He needed to move on, too.
Your words rang in his head for days, 'love your wife more,' and he wanted to. Despite Sena being insufferable at times, she was still his wife, and he aided in pushing her away. She deserved better and he made a commitment to her for life. He needed to fucking try.
And so he did. For weeks he debated on confessing to her, coming clean. But every time he tried, she wouldn't give him a chance.
"Sena, please we really need to talk."
"About what?"
"About us. Need to get some shit off of my chest... please."
"Ugh, Jungkook, no we don't. We're fine."
That's how it went every time. He would try, and she wouldn't let him. So eventually, he decided to just keep it to himself and silently vow that he would do right by her. He would repent for his sins, cleanse himself with holy water made from his sorrowful tears cried silently at night, and he would make this right.
He wanted so fucking badly to make this right. He didn't want to be a stray dog anymore. You gave him up to the pound, and he was returned to his rightful owner. He wanted to be a loyal and loving companion to his wife. Not a stray fucking dog like he had been long before you came and stole him away from home.
He went out of his way to make her life more pleasurable and easier. Every morning, he woke up and made her breakfast, and every night even when he was tired from taking photos all day, he would make her a home cooked dinner. Did she always want it? No. She complained about it sometimes, claimed she'd rather takeout. And even though it stung, he would get her whatever takeout she wanted.
He continuously bought her things. Flowers, jewelry, sweets that were freshly baked at fancy cafes he knew she liked, new and expensive designer clothing he noticed her eyeing, anything she wanted, he would get for her. Anything he thought she would like, he would buy for her.
Along with the obscene amount of gifts he got her, he had been taking her out more. Fancy restaurants that served small and overpriced portions, but the experience was apparently worth it because of the celebrities who often frequented places like these. He took her to Coachella in LA which was incredibly last second, he dropped way too much money on that damn trip, but he knew she wanted to go and he was going to make it happen. He recreated their honeymoon on their anniversary, took her to Japan just like he did the night that they got married, tried to make it as extravagant and sentimental as he possibly could.
He never questioned her when she would disappear on work trips with barely any notice. He would go along with it, wish her a safe flight, and put his full trust in her despite the fact that he knew she was never really going where she said she was. He cheated, after all. He doesn't have the right to question her loyalty when he was the one who was disloyal. Like you, he’s good at denying things that are obvious. He tried his best to deny the fact that every time she came home from these trips, she was glowing and didn’t smell like herself.
He became more affectionate, kissed her every morning and every night, snuggled her in bed, told her how pretty she is and how much he loved her. He did his fucking best to fall back in love with her and show her that he was trying.
And to anyone else on the outside looking in, they would appear as the perfect married couple. He would appear as the perfect husband who showers his wife with love, kisses the ground she walks on, and supports her demanding career. She would appear as the trophy wife that any man would kill to have. They seemed perfect when she posted her little pictures on Instagram, or when she made rare appearances to gatherings with their friends.
But behind closed doors, it was never enough, and no matter how fucking hard he tried, he remained a stray dog. Instead of being welcome back inside once he came back home to her, he was chained to a fence and kept at arms length. He was fed crumbs of reassurance and half assed affection that was only ever given when she saw that he was unhappy. But Sena didn’t want a stray dog.
She didn't smile at his cooking the same way she did at takeout. When he bought her flowers, he would often find them in the trash. When he bought her clothing or jewelry, he never saw her wear it. When he got her sweets or coffee from her favorite cafes, she would complain that they weren't right. When he took her to fancy dinner dates, she barely paid attention to him or engaged in conversation with him. When they went on little vacations, she would get bored of him after the first day there. And when he tried to kiss or touch, she would brush him off like he was gross.
She still refused to fuck him, even when he would give her hints. This was the most challenging thing. For Jungkook, sex isn't possible unless feelings are involved. So he had to work himself up to even try to be intimate with her. It was bad enough that the thought of touching someone else, even himself, made him fucking sick after you were gone. So when he did finally manage to get a boner one night when he was a bit tipsy and trying to snuggle her in bed, he tried to reignite that flame between them.
Only for her to tell him that the she was on her period… which was a blatant lie. Jungkook knows this because Sena has an IUD that lasts up to 8 years and stopped her periods completely. She hasn’t purchased feminine products such as tampons or pads or even period panties in years. She got the IUD a few months after they married. She wasn’t on her period, she just didn’t fucking want him.
That was the day that he accepted defeat.
She fell out of love with him, it was clear. And there was nothing that he could do to make her love him again. No amount of money or pretty things or fun trips would make her want him again. And he couldn't even show her with his body either, because she wouldn't allow him.
He wanted to blame everyone. Her, you, him, god, satan, the fucking universe itself. He resented her for it, she made him feel so small and unlovable. And if he had never met you, he wouldn't have been tempted, so maybe he could have saved them sooner. And as for god and the devil, well, real or not, he’s blaming them anyway.
Most of all, he blamed himself. It’s always been him. He feels like he could have done so many things differently to keep her love. He should have never pulled away and became distant when she told him she didn’t want kids, he should have talked to her about it. He should have worked it out with her. He knows in the back of his mind that it isn’t fully his fault, it takes two to communicate and keep a healthy relationship… but when he’s alone, it is so fucking easy to take the blame for it all.
He accepted it, because he was tired. A man can only take so much rejection from his own fucking wife before just saying fuck it. And it wasn't like he could talk to her about it, because she wouldn't let him.
He knew there must be someone else, so it was only a matter of time before she left him. He wasn't going to leave her, because he had nothing to lose, did he? He already lost you, he lost himself, and he lost the woman he swore he would spend forever with. He may as well suffer and take his rightful punishment.
She wasn't a monster, and he still cared for her very much. He was not innocent in all of this, he pushed her away, too. A relationship consists of two people, and he quit communicating with her at some point, just as she did with him. He lied and deceived her, so no matter how cold she had become, or what wrong she did, he was in the wrong, too. Two wrongs never make a right.
So, he went back into the doghouse. He stopped whining and howling for her to let him in. He stopped scratching at the door and staring at her with pleading eyes. As the seasons changed and time passed, he stayed in that doghouse in the cold. He stared at the space that two flowers once bloomed together, and the emptiness of it made it so fucking obvious that you were the light that he was missing the most. Without you, there were no stars in the sky, the sun was dull, the moon was invisible, and the flowers never fucking bloomed again.
And every goddamn night he thought of you more and more. Oh, how he wished you would come and rescue him again, because if you did, he would do anything for you. He would leave her, he would give you all his money, he would jump off a damn cliff. He would so much rather be in the doghouse in your metaphorical backyard than this cold and lonely doghouse that is called home. Anything for you. Always fucking you.
When he finally relented in trying to repent for his sins, he started dreaming of you. It was as if his acceptance of you being gone brought relief and turmoil all at once. Relief, because he could finally think of you again without feeling quite so guilty... turmoil because he was thinking of you again.
His dreams weren’t metaphorical like yours, they were always very realistic. Some of them were good, and he found that on nights that he dreamed of you both living happily ever after together, the day following was a little brighter.
But the nightmares made him volatile. The nightmares were always similar. He would run into you somewhere out in the wild, you’d catch up, and then a faceless man would appear and introduce himself as your boyfriend. He couldn’t fucking stand that. He didn’t know who the faceless man was, and every time he tried to run after you, beg you to choose him instead, he couldn’t move. He would stay frozen as he watched you walk away from him again and again, but this time you were happier, you were doing so fucking good without him.
Tonight, he swears he is living this nightmare. When he walked in after smoking, and he saw you, and the heard fucking Seojoon refer to you as his girlfriend? He wanted to punch something just to make sure this wasn’t a nightmare.
You both are very similar, always have been in many ways. Because he also stalked your Instagram. He probably did it way too much. He never made a move to message you or even follow you, he respected the fact that you were stern in your decision, but he lurked. He waited and waited for you to post something new because he was dying to know how you were doing.
And occasionally, you would post. Little cryptic captions that he couldn’t decipher even though he thought about them for hours, tried to find out if they had a hidden meaning like morse code. Pictures that didn’t show your full face, so he couldn’t figure out if you were happy or dying inside like he was; there was never anything that gave away how you were doing.
Until one day, you posted a photo of you and a man. And it was like his nightmares started coming true.
No caption, just a stupid fucking red heart emoji. It was a selfie of you smiling next to Seojoon at some café and he looked at you like you held the fucking stars. And then you posted more, and more, and more, as if you were taunting him on purpose. Some candid photos of Seojoon, some more silly little selfies of you two together, but what really fucked with his head was when you posted a photo you took of a Polaroid picture sitting on your bed, a picture of Seojoon and his dog that is apparently named Simba. You captioned it ‘My babies!!!’
The Polaroid camera he left for you, no doubt. That posts mere existence nearly sent him on a goddamn rampage.
The most comical part of it all is he knew exactly who Seojoon was. Not only did Sena work with the fucker, but he was Taehyung’s friend. He was never close with Seojoon, had met him a few times on nights out when Taehyung invited Seojoon to join, and he heard vague stories involving him when Sena would ramble about work. He never particularly liked him but didn’t hate him either. They just weren’t similar enough to be pals.
He fucking hates him now.
He knew when he saw you with Seojoon, that someday, he would have to face you together. Because Taehyung is one of Jungkook’s closest friends, and Taehyung is also close with Seojoon. They worked together on a few projects, Taehyung works in marketing at an art gallery, so they often swapped ideas and collaborated on marketing ideas. Taehyung also often invited Seojoon to their bar outings and get togethers. It was only a matter of time before Seojoon brought you with him.
He was well aware of the connection. And he was fucking anticipating this day.
See, he wasn’t even going to come tonight. He planned on getting drunk and falling asleep alone like he has done many nights now. But then Taehyung told him some of the people that would be here, which included Seojoon and ‘his new girl.’ His new girl, aka Jungkook’s girl, he still stubbornly thinks. And oh, like the stray dog he is, he started fucking panting at the thought of being near you again.
So, he agreed. What he didn’t fucking agree on was Sena showing up. He rarely brings her out with him, because she’s not interested in spending time with him anymore anyway. But for some fucking reason, she insisted on joining tonight.
That didn’t sit well with him. Something was very off about it. But he couldn’t say no, he wouldn’t say no, because despite how cold she is, he won’t cast her out like she’s cast him out. Not until she forces him to. And if he is being one hundred percent honest, he doesn’t give a fuck why Sena was so persistent on coming tonight. Whatever she’s doing, he doesn’t care anymore. He’s beyond the point of caring. He has his sight fucking set on you.
He has been buzzing all fucking night knowing he would see you again. He’s been in a foul mood, everyone noticed too. He refused to say why, just blamed it on being tired from work. But in reality, it was because he was going to see you again, and he was going to see you with another man.
Hell on earth, he feels this is far worse than you leaving him… but he’s a masochist, he thinks. He was dreading it while simultaneously buzzing with excitement. He felt a rush at imagining seeing you for the first time in half a year with another mans arm around you.
He won’t admit it, but knowing he would see you again kept him going. It was only a matter of time, and he had all the time in the world to wait, even if it was for a single moment and you refused to ever see him again after that. And honestly, he knew damn well all bets would he off. He knew the moment he saw you, he wouldn’t fucking stop. He wouldn’t let you go again. He doesn’t give a fuck if you’re with Seojoon now… he needs you. In any fucking way you’ll allow it. Whether it’s a friend, or an enemy, or a stray fucking dog that circles your apartment until you finally let him inside. Jungkook has always been stubborn, but he has never been as stubborn as he is when it comes to you.
He’s a stray dog, after all. Starved of love and affection that you once provided so freely. Having the knowledge that at some point you’d cross paths again was like waving a fucking steak in his face. He drooled when he thought about it.
He didn’t expect to walk in and the first thing he hears when he sees you is Seojoon referring to you as his girlfriend. And he didn’t expect to feel so fucking resentful towards you for looking like you were ok. You definitely seemed tense, and he had a good idea as to why, but you weren’t falling apart. You were just fine. Was it truly so easy for you to move on?
There you were, sitting on the couch with another man’s arm around you while wearing his fucking jacket and chain he gave you the last time you saw each other. He fucking hates it. It feels like the ultimate betrayal, and although he knows he is so out of line for thinking this way, he just can’t help it. You wanted to move on, you have every right to, you both agreed this is what you needed.
But he’s a stray dog. And this is equivalent to seeing his previous owner loving on a dog who never knew what it was like to be a stray.
He has always been selfish when it comes to you. He knows his feelings are so fucking hypocritical, because you aren’t the only one who showed up wearing things that didn’t belong to you while with someone else, he did the same exact thing; he’s wearing the star pimple patches he stole from you that last night together. He doesn’t even have any pimples, he just likes them, and he doesn’t give a fuck if Sena scolded him for it. He wore them knowing damn well you would both be here tonight with other people, because he wanted you to notice him. He wanted you to remember.
He's so selfish for his train of thought and he knows it. He won’t even deny it… but he had been suffering this entire time, even when trying to do the right thing, yet here you are, sitting in front of him, and you looked totally fine… up until you saw him.
When you saw him, you looked like you saw a ghost. Because you fucking did see a ghost. He may have been aware of what was happening tonight, but the last thing you expected was seeing him here, too.
But even with the bitterness and resentment he’s irrationally feeling, even with the volatile thoughts going through his head, he still can’t stand to see you sitting there looking as if you wish he was someone else. Fuck, he’d do anything to just wrap you in his arms and cradle you and kiss your forehead and whisper sweet everything’s in your ear.
To fucking have you again.
But he can’t do that. And he can’t stand to see you look at him as if you wish he weren’t here right now.
Which is exactly how you’re looking at him. Because you wish so badly that he was not here right now.
“Calvin Klein is a great brand, I’m wearing them too. You have good taste.”
He winks at you, lifts his shirt a bit to reveal the waistband of his fucking underwear, which just so happens to be the pair you used to favor. They’re a light purple color, which makes his honey skin look fucking divine, and they’ve always been snug on him. The tiny flash of color brings memories back quickly, memories of you tugging on them with your teeth and trying to suck him off through the fabric. Fuck. You are so fucked.
He does this as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. Just two people who are meeting for the first time, conversing over a brand of clothing and underwear they both enjoy. He totally didn’t wear these on purpose knowing you’d be here tonight. He totally didn’t premeditate wearing this pair of underwear, or the pimple patches, or being here at-fucking-all.
It’s all too much for you. You can barely even take in the way his hair got so much fucking longer, or the fact that he looks bulkier which means he has been going to the gym more, or the fact that he smells the exact same and reminds you of fucking home. You’re having a very hard time keeping your composure right now, and it feels as if the room is closing in on you.
It’ll keep closing until you and Jungkook are smooshed together, and there will be no denying the fact that you never truly got over him like you convinced yourself, you just buried all the bad feelings.
This is what happens when you deny yourself the truth. You’re fine for a long time, until one day, something little or big can cause it all to come bubbling to the surface, and you can no longer deny it.
That is what’s happening. And you need some fucking air before you suffocate.
“I left my purse in the car. I’ll be right back.”
You don’t even look at anyone as you swiftly make your way outside. Everyone remains oblivious, and if you had any coherent thoughts right now you would probably be concerned about the fact that Seojoon didn’t even blink at the way your voice shook when speaking.
“Actually, babe that reminds me, can you go get my purse too? I left it in the backseat.”
Oh, this just keeps getting better and better. Maybe God doesn’t hate Jungkook after all, because what a perfect fucking excuse to get you alone without anyone batting an eye.
“Yeah, I’ll be right back.”
You’re out the door before you can hear any of this. And if you did hear it, you just might steal Seojoon’s car and drive until the gas runs out, far, far away from here. But you have no idea that he’s trailing you right now, because where Jungkook may be gods favorite, god still definitely has it out for you.
You finally make it to Seojoon’s car, which is parked across the street on the curb. You place your palms on the window in hopes that the coolness will help calm your body because it feels like your blood is hot fucking lava right now.
You take deep breaths. Try to calm down the consistent zapping feeling and flies swarming your stomach that seem desperate to escape out of your mouth in the form of vomit.
You don’t like the fact that even though you felt dread when seeing Jungkook, for a single moment, the flies turned into butterflies again.
You don’t like the very sinful thoughts going through your head knowing that you now have access to him again.
Temptation is no joke, and you’re starting to question everything about the way you coped. Seeing him again surely would have fucked you up, it’s equivalent to seeing an ex who broke your heart, any other person would have probably been a bit shaken up… but this is so much worse. Because it isn’t just a passing glance or brief run in. Jungkook is Taehyung’s friend, who is also Seojoon’s friend. Jungkook is married to Sena, which is Seojoon’s coworker. They’re all fucking connected.
It is both thrilling and devastating.
“How cute that you showed up wearing my jacket while some other man’s hands are all fucking over you… does he know it’s mine?”
He doesn’t touch you, but he’s there. You feel his body heat behind you, and his palms come to rest right next to yours on the window. He has you boxed in, nowhere to fucking hide.
The lyrics from earlier come to mind, the lyrics that were very easy to ignore when Seojoon was terribly singing them:
‘But now there's nowhere to hide,
Since you pushed my love aside,
I'm out of my head,
Hopelessly devoted to you.’
Oh, how fucking fitting.
You don’t know why he’s doing this. He’s being kind of… argumentative. Unfair. Fucking childish, really. He’s never acted like this before… then again, time has passed, and feelings have obviously festered. Maybe he hates your guts now, because he clearly feels bitter about things ending.
You should push him away now. You should immediately set boundaries and tell him sternly that this isn’t ok, and he needs to keep his distance.
But you’ve only ever been so fucking weak for this man, and considering instead of pushing him away, you turn around to face him? You’re still very clearly too weak to be trusted around him.
The moonlight bounces off his face, and for the first time since encountering him tonight, you see light flicker in his eyes just like it used to. They aren’t as dark despite his pupils being blown still, but those little stars that you once loved so fucking much are glittering.
“Fuck.”
He has no idea what comes over him. But the moment you turn around, he expects you to do exactly as you should and push him away, scold him for being so irrational and impulsive and borderline disrespectful. But you don’t. Instead, your eyes mimic his, they fucking glitter and reflect the stars in his own. Asters dancing around in your eyes just like they used to.
That fucks him completely, to actually see that although you seem ok, you haven’t fully moved on like it appeared you had.
You both thought you each moved on, all because of some silly little Instagram posts that neither of you were meant to see to begin with. Nothing is as it seems, is it?
All an illusion.
He grabs your face, it’s so fucking impulsive and he knows it, but he loses control. He’s never been good at controlling himself around you, not unless you tell him no.
But you don’t tell him no. You don’t recoil and tell him to fuck off like you should. You let him.
Stupid girl.
He leans in, but doesn’t quite kiss you. He places his lips so close to yours that they brush together. You are fucking tense, it feels as if your bones could snap at how taught your body is, but you still don’t push him away. You need to, because what if someone walks out and sees? How the fuck would you explain that the man everyone assumes you just met is this close and touching you as if he’s fucking in love with you?
The secret would be out then. Oh fuck, what a mess that would be.
But all those thoughts fly out of the fucking window when he closes the distance. It’s soft, he doesn’t move his lips, he just lets them linger on yours. Both of you are fucking shaking like addicts who just got their first hit of their favored drug after being deprived.
You let out the smallest huff of air, and that’s all it takes for Jungkook to snap. He groans and begins kissing you ravenously. Tongue and teeth, love and hate, his hands leave your face and start wandering your body as if he’s mapping it out all over again. The stray dog finally got the fucking bone.
You kiss him back instinctively. Not much thought goes into it, it’s like your body just automatically responds after being deprived from him for so long. Your tongue tangles with his almost as if they’re fighting, your hands explore his body just as thoroughly as his does yours.
It’s like two planets colliding. Fucking chaos. It shouldn’t be happening, but it is, and neither of you are strong enough to stop it. The big-fucking-bang. The end and the beginning of the world all over again.
He grabs you by the waist and hoists you up, maneuvers your legs so that they’re wrapped around his waist and pins you to the car. Seojoon’s fucking car, by the way. He has no intention of going beyond kissing, because he knows there are lines that he won’t cross again unless you say so. Especially not so soon.
But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to get as close as possible to you and bury himself inside of your very soul all over again. The thoughts going through his head are borderline crazy; he’s thinking shit like he wishes he could just crawl inside of you and live there; he wishes you really would treat him like a stray dog, buy him a fucking collar with your name on it, and take him home to keep him forever. Fuck, he would wear it, too. He would eat food off of the floor and lick your fucking feet if you said he could come home with you one last time.
You have no regard for your surroundings for a few moments, or even the fact that if you stay out here for too long people might question why you’re both out here longer than necessary. All you can focus on is how he tastes… how he tastes and feels like home. How for the first time in months, your arousal is bordering on painful just from his hands touching you. You never get like this with Seojoon, and you’re sure you’ll feel guilty for that later.
This is so fucking wrong in so many more ways than it ever was before, but somehow feels so right.
When he left, both of your flowers died. You haven’t bloomed since, and neither has he. You’ve both been dormant as the seasons change. You’ve to get on with your lives… but in this very moment, the seeds are replanted as if it’s inevitable. Spring flowers are dead, but autumn flowers are blooming.
Neither of you will ever be the same for each other again, but this alone is proof that no matter what season it is or how long apart you are… you will always fucking reignite the life in each other.
You’re both lucky, too, because Seojoon and Sena remain oblivious inside. Neither have even noticed that you’re gone, they’ve already helped themselves to some food and are chatting about work.
You know you need to get back inside soon regardless of who has or hasn’t noticed, because eventually someone will come looking. You can’t ravish each other like animals out here, not like this. But just a little bit longer…
“Fuck Y/N I’ve missed you so fucking much.” It comes out as a groan, but he sounds so fucking needy that you feel like you could faint. The way his voice cracks makes you groan back at him. He’s going to kill you acting like this. What a way to die.
Fuck. You need to stop before you go too far. You aren’t sure that you can control yourself.
So with shaky hands, you push him away, nearly fall as your knees wobble when he lets you out of his grip. You’re panting, your lips feel electric, and they taste so potently like him. You point a finger at him and say weakly, “N-no. No. Stop.”
It almost sounds as if you’re scolding a dog… which is ironic considering the canine-poetry he often compares himself to. And of course he stops, but he wonders what the sudden change was. He’s being stupid as fuck, this entire situation he put you both in is stupid, which is fitting because he feels fucking dumb in love all over again.
“Why? Did I hurt you?” He asks dumbly as he wipes his mouth, his fingers are twitching with need to touch you again, but he refrains for now because you said stop. He may be a stray, but he does as he’s told…
Oh, how fucking Jungkook of him to immediately wonder if he hurt you. Because no matter how selfish he is, he will always worry about hurting you, he will never fucking forgive himself for hurting you.
You breathe out a laugh that isn’t out of humor, but out of irony. He’s worried about hurting you, as if that’s the worst thing that could happen here tonight… when you both came here with your fucking partners.
“No, fuck. Jungkook, your fucking wife is inside, and so is my boyfriend. This is wrong. Can’t do this again”
You hate that even with Jungkook, you now feel pressured to call Seojoon your boyfriend. It makes you cringe that he pushed that label on you, and your current confusing feelings do not help at all. Jungkook notices you cringe, too.
He doesn’t like that.
He mimics your laugh, runs a hand through his long hair and shakes his head. He averts his eyes now because he simply can’t stand to look at you. Not when you just called Seojoon your boyfriend when you so obviously don’t see him as such.
He feels himself start to get pissed. He knows he shouldn’t be getting angry right now, has no reason or right to. You’re doing what you’re supposed to do; moving on… but now you’re in front of him again.
And he wants to make it fucking impossible for you to move on.
“Yeah? Your boyfriend, huh? So you’re a liar now too?”
You flinch, your back is pressed against the cool car as you stare at him in shock. Yeah, he’s pissed. Which is making you feel both irritated and a bit intimidated, because his mood switched so quickly. One moment he's devouring you, the next he’s accusing you of being a liar.
You both are so great at moving on! Fucking bullshit.
“What? No, he is my—”
“Does he kiss you like I do?”
He takes a step closer.
Fuck. Please don’t.
“Don’t—”
“Does he touch you like I do?”
Another step closer.
“Does he fuck you like I do?”
And now you’re pinned to the car again. He isn’t touching, because you told him not to. But his body is nearly brushing against yours as he looks down at you. You have no idea what the fuck to say.
“Does he love you like I do? Would he ever fucking be able to love you like I did and still do to this day, Y/N?”
You can’t take it. Fuck. The one thing you never did was compare Seojoon to Jungkook. You may have thought about Jungkook, you may have had lingering feelings for him, but you never once compared Seojoon to him because that would be so fucking unfair. Not only would it be unfair, but you know that if you did compare him, you would never be satisfied.
You never even thought to compare Seojoon to Jungkook until now, because there is no comparison. No one could possibly measure up to Jungkook.
But now, he’s planted those thoughts in your mind like fucking weeds. No, Seojoon doesn’t kiss you like Jungkook does, he doesn’t even seem to enjoy kissing. No, Seojoon doesn’t touch you like Jungkook does, he refuses to leave marks made of love and passion because he thinks it’s tacky. No, Seojoon doesn’t fuck you like Jungkook does, he likes to stick to the same few positions and prefers you on top. And no, Seojoon doesn’t love you like Jungkook ever did, Seojoon doesn’t love you at all.
Fuck Jungkook for putting these thoughts in your head.
You’re pissed at this point. Pissed at him for crossing the line and trying to sabotage shit, pissed at yourself for allowing him to kiss and touch and fill your head with thoughts on how Seojoon is only a tree whereas Jungkook is an exotic fucking flower.
You push at his chest again and grit out, “Fucking stop, I am done.”
You told him to stop, so he should. But he already started… and he isn’t sure he can stop now, not when you are right in front of him, and your face says it all; Seojoon will never be Jungkook.
Jungkook doesn’t budge when you push him, he stays in place like a fucking boulder. Has definitely been visiting the gym more.
“Yeah? You think we’re done? We’re not done.”
He leans down until he is nose to nose with you, his breath washing over your face, hot and heavy.
“I said we’re. not. done. Understand?”
You fucking hate yourself in this moment. Because Jungkook has done a lot of little things in the past that make you go crazy, a single fucking look could make you drop to your knees and do anything he wants. But this? This turns you on in a way you have never experienced before.
It drives you crazy with anger, longing, and fucking passion for him. He’s crossing a line right now, pushing you in ways that are so fucking wrong considering you both have people waiting for you inside. He’s still married, and you technically have a boyfriend now. So you should tell him how full of shit he is for trying to tell you you’re not done. He can’t make decisions for you.
He knows this, too. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t push you to give into him again in some fucking way. He won’t let you go so easily this time.
But the way he says it… it’s as if he has never been more certain of anything in his life. Because he hasn’t. He is so serious when he says he’s not done. Neither of you are. He will make damn sure of it after the taste he had tonight.
You shouldn’t have planted that fucking seed.
The worst part is that you believe him. You know that look in his eyes, its determination. He won’t fucking stop until you tell him to never come near you again.
You don’t know if you can do that a second time.
You're about to scold him and tell him to back off, but you hear a whistle come from the house.
“Yo, Kook, come help me grill this pork belly.”
Yoongi stares at Jungkook’s back with an emotionless expression, there’s no mistaking how close he is to you right now and it has you so fucking on edge, because Yoongi sees it. What if he fucking tells someone?
This is the exact reason why you shouldn’t be sneaking around. Holy fuck.
It shouldn’t feel this good to sneak around with him again, especially when the stakes are even higher.
“Coming, was just helping Y/N with her purse.”
He stares you down as if to silently say ‘I am so fucking serious.’ And even though he looks borderline angry, there is no mistaking the devastating amount of love he still holds for you. Even when feeling jealous and angry and resentful, his eyes are still glittering when looking at you. It’s as if you’ve siphoned the life back into him.
He childishly pinches your waist, which causes you to squeak, and then he walks away, heading back towards the porch of the house where Yoongi lingers waiting for him.
You watch him the entire time, not sure what the fuck you’re doing or are going to do after this.
It really doesn’t help that before closing the door, Yoongi gives you a look as if to say, ‘I know your secret.’
Fuck, you are in so much trouble. What the fuck are you doing?
One thing is abundantly clear, though; this is either the start of something catastrophic, or it is the last time you will ever see each other again.
You just aren’t sure which one yet.
Yes you are.
You swiftly grab your purse from Seojoon’s car and reapply your lip tint in the mirror. You need to get back inside because now is not the time to start freaking out. People are waiting for you inside, one of which is a man that probably would never expect you to be out here kissing one of his ‘friends’ like a horny fucking teenager.
You have so much fucking thinking to do, but for now, you must pretend once again. You hope so fucking much that Jungkook behaves for the remainder of the night. Otherwise, you just might explode.
#bts#jeon jungkook#jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic#jungkook#jungkook angst#bts fanfction#bts imagines#bts smut#18+ only#jungkook x you#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#i love jungkook#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfiction#bts angst#bts x reader
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Man's World - Chapter 3 - It's In My Nature
Pairing: Female!Leclerc reader x Carlos Sainz Jr
Warnings: slow burn, eventual Smut, enemies to lovers, language
Rating: Mature
AN: Here we go!! I know it's a bit of a slow burn... but I think it'll be worth it! Thanks for the support and as always, comments are welcome and appreciated <3 but thanks for reading!
Mini Synopsis: Georgia Leclerc is one of Bugatti's two female drivers. As the newest team in Formula 1, Bugatti has a lot to prove - especially since Team Principal Isabelle Binotto has decided to make the team a pre-dominantly female run team - from race engineers all the way to drivers. But even though Georgia has had an impressive start to her career, the press have labeled her a sassy hot head, nothing like her twin brother Charles.
With sponsorship money on the line, Ferrari and Bugatti come up with one solution – fake a relationship between Georgia and Carlos with the hopes that the Sponsors will see the drivers in a new light. An easy task – if the drivers didn’t hate each other.
Intro
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
------------
After the talk with Lorenzo, I slinked back into the hallway and moved towards Isabelle’s office. It’s as if she had read my mind, because before I could even knock she yelled, “Come on in, Georgia.”
I felt like a pig being led towards the slaughterhouse. There was no turning back now. As I entered the office I saw Susie and Lizzie sitting on the sofa across from Isabelle’s desk. Lizzie smiled at me, a smile so warm that I couldn’t help but send her a small – very small – smile back. I walked towards the chair next to Isabelle’s desk and plopped down. Several silent seconds went by, not one of us saying a word.
I sighed. “Do you three truly believe this is my best option?” I said, more level-headed than I expected to be.
“Yes,” Isabelle said simply. “If I could have found something better than having to endure Carlos Sainz visiting our garage for the next several months, I would have found it.” While she didn’t smile as she said it, there was a jovial nature in her voice.
“So what is the plan then?” I supposed I didn’t need to tell them that I was going to obviously accept the deal. My seat was too important and they knew that.
“We’ll have to take it slow,” Lizzie piped up, getting up from the sofa. “This week in Miami we’ll do some small stuff – have you and Carlos head to dinner together on Wednesday and then get drinks with Charles and Lando on Thursday – nice and easy. Ferrari have agreed to let you pop by Carlos’ garage a couple times this weekend and they’ll ‘accidentally’ catch you on their social media which will definitely create some speculation with the fans.”
“I’m not kissing him if I get onto the podium,” I blurted out. Lizzie only laughed at that. The idea of kissing a man I barely knew was bad enough – but kissing Carlos in a fake burst of joy was enough to ruin my podium celebration, and I wasn’t having that.
“No one’s asking you to do that.” While Lizzie didn’t say for now, I knew it was implied. The moment any driver made it on the podium, the media was immediately looking for their significant other – everyone trying to capture that winning kiss. “This weekend is about sowing the seeds of the relationship, getting the fans to speculate on what is going on. The good news is, with Charles being your brother, the fans will love the idea of his teammate dating his sister. It should be an easy sell.”
I nodded, because I knew she wasn’t wrong – it’s what fairytale romances were made of. I had no doubt the fans would eat up our relationship – Ferrari golden boy Charles Leclerc’s sister dating their beloved #2 driver – what was not to love if you were a fan.
“I have the details of this week all put into your Miami outline so you know when and where you are expected.” She smiled at me, as if she was proud of all of this nonsense. I took the folder, a pink Lisa Frank folder with dolphins on it, no doubt to represent Miami, and opened it. To be fair to Lizzie, she had done an excellent job organising the week, down to the 30 minute intervals and small visits to Carlos’ garage. I looked up, nodding at her. I suppose I should have felt more guilt – my screw up with the media wasn’t just affecting me, it had now given Lizzie an extra job as my personal assistant and relationship manager, something I am sure she didn’t sign up for.
“Thanks Liz. Do Lily and Chris know?”
“We’ll tell them in a few – we’re about to meet with Lily on race strategy. Why don’t you head to your gym and start your workout?”
And with that, it was over. Starting Wednesday I would be in a relationship with a person who could only be described as the most insufferable and arrogant driver on the grid. There was nothing left to do butI head back to my drivers room and change into my workout gear.
“Knock, knock, can I come in?” I heard the voice of my athletic trainer, Chris, at the door. Chris had been my athletic trainer since I was a mere 18 years old – and we had been together ever since. When I moved to the U.S. I knew no one in Indy Car and getting Chris as my personal trainer was like being thrown a lifejacket in a pool where I was drowning. He was kind, thoughtful, funny and probably the sassiest person I had ever met. His own personal journey as a gay man working in the racing industry was inspirational to me, and we quickly became close friends.
“If I said no, does that mean I can skip today’s workout?” I asked, turning around to see a stupid grin on Chris’ face. I could tell by the smirk on his face that Isabelle had just finished telling him and Lily about the outrageous plan they had concocted.
“I know you and Carlos don’t have a close…. friendship, but hey, if you’re going to fake a relationship with anyone on the grid, at least they picked the most attractive driver.” Chris winked and sat down next to me, finishing his cup of coffee which was undoubtedly probably his third of the morning. “Plus his dad is probably one of the nicest guys on the planet. Maybe you’ll get to visit their house in Majorca, now that would be worth the hassle!”
Chris was nothing if not an optimist, it’s probably why he and Lizzie got along so well. I would often see them in the back of the garage, giggling away while looking at ridiculous Tik Tok videos. They were the two chattiest people on the planet, and when they were together, nothing could stop them.
I rolled my eyes, letting out a long exasperated sigh. “The whole thing is ridiculous. No one is going to believe this.”
“You might be surprised. I have no doubt that Carlos, if anything, is a good actor. He’s probably one of the better choices.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, it was as if Chris actually thought this was a good idea. As I was going to say something, I heard another knock at the door.
“Jesus – am I going to see the whole paddock today!?” I groaned. Before I could apologise for my statement, in walked Lily – a huge smile plastered across her face.
“Morning Georgie – thought I’d come in, see how things are going,” she said in what can only be described as the world’s sweetest voice. I stared at her blankly, she fully knew exactly how things were going.
“Just dandy, Lily – I suppose you’ve heard the fun news, I managed to win myself that boyfriend the press are always so worried about.” She giggled at that and patted me on the back.
“Keep your head up, Georgie. Who knows, maybe under that rugged, dark and handsome exterior you might find something you like about Carlos Sainz.” Before she could say another word, I picked up my pillow and threw it at her, causing her to go into a fit of hysterics.
I smiled. “The only thing I imagine I’ll learn about Carlos Sainz is that he is exactly as insufferable as I imagine him to be.” Lily rolled her eyes, but nodded.
“Well, if I knew that we’d be given handsome boyfriends if we sucked at media, maybe I would have taken a page out of your book.” She stuck her tongue out at me and turned around, heading for the door of my driver’s room.
“I’m happy to swap if you would like,” I retorted. She picked up the pillow and threw it back at me, before leaving the room, still giggling to herself.
The rest of the Tuesday went smoothly – or at least as smoothly as it could go considering I had been told my life was about to be turned upside down. As I hopped into bed that evening I stared at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity. Charles had popped by my room earlier, trying to make amends, and while I knew it was wrong to be this mad at him – I just couldn’t help it. I had told him to go away and leave me alone and to my surprise, he did. I was frustrated and angry – and if I was being honest with myself, jealous. Jealous that he was the ‘better Leclerc’ that everyone loved. Jealous that Ferrari’s golden boy could talk to the press like they had been best friends for life. The truth was – I was mad and being petty and for one day in my life, I just wanted to be mad and petty.
---- Carlos POV ----
As I left the Bugatti headquarters that Tuesday morning, I was fuming. This had my dad’s stink all over it. My old man had been pressuring me to “get my act together” as he ever so kindly put it since the beginning of the season. But after the yacht incident in Majorca, he had made it very clear that I had exactly 4 races to get my shit together before he got involved. I guess he was serious, because here we were at race number 5, and this charade had him all over it.
I entered the Ferrari building in a huff, heading straight to the hospitality suite for families, where I saw both my father and mother enjoying an elegant cup of Italian coffee. I took a quick peak, making sure the Leclerc family wasn’t there, before slamming my hands down on the table.
“A little heads up would have been nice,” I said, staring straight into my father’s eyes.
“If I had done that, then I doubt you would have attended today’s meeting, would you?” I was annoyed by his comment, but he was probably right.
“And pray tell me, why her? She’s the most boring woman on the planet – I don’t think she’s even capable of having a conversation that isn’t centred around racing.”
“Good – maybe she’ll teach you some things about racing so you’ll be better suited to answer actual questions about the car,” my dad retorted back.
I rolled my eyes. I knew plenty about the car and my dad knew that. What he meant to say was, ‘good, maybe you’ll become more focused on racing and less focused on partying’ but I let it slide. I had survived being Max Verstappen’s team mate at Toro Rosso, I could survive pretending to be boring, ‘know-it-all’ Georgia Leclerc’s boyfriend for a season. The only thing that she had going for her was the fact that she was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women in the paddock; it was just a shame it was overshadowed by her boring personality and propensity to dress like a grandmother.
“Now, Chili, don’t be rude. She’s doing you a favour, and I think you’ll find that there’s a lot more to her than meets the eye, my love.” My mother had the ability to never say a single bad word about anyone. I loved her for it, but it was also infuriating.
I stared at both of them blankly. So this was official. The fact was, there was no going around my father. He was a legend in the racing world and if he and Mattia had agreed on this, then it was going to happen, whether I liked it or not.
“Now that you are done throwing a hissy fit, why don’t you head to Coco’s office and get your schedule for the week. You have a very busy week, both on and off the track and I expect you to adhere to the schedule that Ferrari and Coco have created for you.”
I grabbed a cookie from the table, and turned the other direction, not daring to look back. Carlos, or Coco as the family called him, was my dear cousin and manager. As I walked up to his office, I knocked lightly and then walked in, knowing he would be expecting me.
“Ahh Chili, lovely for you to join me this morning. Come, sit, I’m sure you have many questions.” I nodded and sat down on the sofa, taking the cup of coffee that he had just poured me. “So, in this folder is your itinerary for the weekend. Tomorrow you and Georgia will go on a lovely date we have booked for you at a tiny restaurant by the ocean. Very romantic,” he said with a wink. I just shuddered and gave him a look that told him to continue, but with less adjectives.
“From there we have drinks with Charles and Lando, a walk around the track, and a little ‘accidental’ meeting in your garage. It’s all explained here, but of course, I’m here for questions.” I took the folder from him, holding it like it was a bomb about to explode at any minute. At least I would get to hang out with Lando, I thought to myself.
Coco chuckled, “I know this seems unfair to you, but trust me, this is good for us. Once we have the deals we need secured, we’ll end this little nightmare for you.” I nodded, putting the folder into my bag. “Right, well, best you get going to your work out. Miami is a big one.”
---Georgia POV---
The next morning I woke up with a massive headache. It was Wednesday, which meant it was date night with Carlos.
Great.
Reaching for my phone, I saw that I had several missed calls from Charles and a text asking if I wanted to get breakfast. Not really, I thought to myself, but I guess I couldn’t avoid Charles forever. I texted him back Sure and proceeded to get ready for the day. As part of our clothing collection, Bugatti had gotten us some cute blue sundresses, that matched the colour of the car, for all of the media events today. I wasn’t typically much of a dress person, but these were nicely done and fitted perfectly – a benefit of having a women-run team, we definitely had better clothes than all of our male counterparts – plus it was incredibly hot, so the dress was welcome.
As I walked out of my hotel room, I turned right to see none other than Carlos Sainz, dressed head to toe in Ferrari gear. He looked up, eyes meeting mine. For the first time ever, his face was truly unreadable. The usual Cheshire cat grin was replaced with nothing. I nodded in his direction, but he didn’t make a move, just stared at me blankly. As the elevator doors opened, we both hopped inside, making sure to stand as far away from each other as possible.
“So, I uh, guess I’ll see you tonight?” I don’t know why I decided to utter those words. I guess the silence was becoming too unbearable, and this felt like a good way to break the awkwardness.
Carlos, still not looking at me, just nodded, a slight tilt of his head in my direction.
Great, he’s gone from flirting with me to being mute, I thought. Real cute.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, I zoomed out of the elevator so fast someone would have assumed I was being chased by a zombie. Truth be told it felt like I was being chased by a zombie – the lifeless zombie of Carlos Sainz.
I entered the restaurant and Charles waved me down. “Nice dress, you look beautiful,” he said, giving me a kiss on each cheek.
Kiss ass.
“Thanks – you don’t look too bad yourself. Charlotte dress you?” I said with a chuckle.
He nodded. Charles had recently begun dating Charlotte, an Instagram influencer. While Charlotte and I had very little in common, I had to admit, Charles had started dressing considerably better since they had started dating.
“So, about yester-“
“Look I know –“
We both said at the same time. I let out a small laugh and gestured for him to go first.
“I’m sorry you felt ambushed when you went into that meeting, “ Charles began. “They had only just finished telling me right before you got there, otherwise you know I would have said something to you earlier.”
I nodded. Isabelle and Susie weren’t stupid enough to tell Charles too much in advance; we were practically joined at the hip now, and Charles had never been known for being able to keep a secret.
“I know, I’m sorry I was so angry. It’s just tough, you know.” He nodded in response to my statement, his hand snaking across the table to hold mine.
“Look, I know Carlos seems like an ass, but once you get to know him, he’s not so bad. He’s actually quite funny, and surprisingly a great golfer! I think you two will have more in common than you think.”
“Doubt it,” I said quickly. Charles might have been trying to make me feel better, but this wasn’t a battle I was going to let him win.
Charles rolled his eyes; he knew when to quit. “Regardless, I’ll be there for drinks tomorrow, as will Lando. It’ll be fun – we haven’t hung the three of us in a while.”
“Except it won’t be just the three of us – Carlos will be there,” I said pointedly.
“Well then it’s a good thing Carlos and Lando get along so well, then, isn’t it,” he remarked, his face telling me that I wasn’t going to win this small argument.
The rest of breakfast continued smoothly. We chatted about the various silly events that our teams had ready for us. Both Ferrari and Bugatti had silly challenges, photoshoots and meet and greets scheduled for us throughout the day.
The day went by fairly quickly, which surprised me. Maybe it was because I was dreading the dinner I was about to have with Carlos, or maybe it was because I was beginning to get used to these silly media days. Probably the first one, but I secretly hoped it was the second. Only time would tell on that one.
Earlier in the day Lizzie had dropped off a beautiful red dress. Of course it was red. I rolled my eyes, picking up the dress and examining the style. It was bad enough I had to date a Ferrari driver, now they were expecting me to wear their colour. The plan was to have Carlos out front of the hotel at 7pm. From there he would drive us in his Ferrari to the restaurant, where we had a reservation on the waterfront at this little Cuban restaurant.
I looked at the clock – 7:10pm – good, Carlos could wait a bit. I grabbed my purse and a jacket and took the stairs down, slower the better I thought. As I approached the main doors of the hotel, I could see Carlos standing, leaning on the passenger door of his Ferrari, scanning through his phone mindlessly. I cleared my throat and he looked up. I could tell by the look on his face, he was not expecting me to show up wearing a red dress. His eyes did a quick flicker up and down my figure, and if I hadn’t been acutely aware of him at that moment, I might have missed the expression off shock and awe on his face. Almost as quickly as it had appeared, the expression left his face, and he was back to the stern, neutral Carlos Sainz that I had gotten to know earlier this morning in the elevator.
“Georgia, good of you to show,” he said dryly. Before I could respond, he had opened the passenger door of the vehicle, signalling for me to get in. Part of me wanted to protest – throw a little fit and give him a lecture on feminism and how I could open a door myself, but now didn’t seem like the time or the place. Plus, it seemed a bit petty and I was meant to be working on that.
“Can’t put a time on beautification, Carlos,” I retorted back, climbing into the passenger seat of his car. Carlos hopped in on the drivers side and started the car.
The car ride was short and quiet. Before I left, Lizzie had given me a set of questions that I was meant to ask Carlos, a catch all of things two people in a relationship were meant to know about each other if they were to convince an entire community they were dating. I palmed the questions in my hand, not bringing the courage to pull them out during the tense drive.
When we arrived at the restaurant, Carlos parked the car in front of the valet and quickly got out of the drivers side so he could open my door. He stuck his hand out, which I gladly accepted, if only because getting out of a car that low to the ground with heels was next to impossible. I mumbled a pathetic string of thanks, and walked up to the hostess stand with Carlos trailing behind me. Before I registered what he was doing, Carlos snuck his hand on the small of my back and let it rest there as the hostess began to guide us towards our table.
As we walked through the restaurant, I could see the eyes of various people looking us up and down. Did they recognize us? It was likely – our faces had been all over billboards for the last several weeks in Miami. You would have to live under a rock to not know that the Formula 1 race was happening this weekend. When we sat down, I saw a couple a few tables down from us pull out their phones and pretend to text, but I knew they were taking a photo of us.
Well, cats out of the bag, no turning back now.
If Carlos noticed this, he didn’t say anything. Instead he went straight to the menu, clearly incredibly hungry from a day full of training. Truth be told, if I wasn’t so nervous, I would have been equally as starving. Within minutes a waiter approached and asked us for our drink order.
“Water,” I responded quickly.
Carlos looked at me, as if I had just ordered poison. “We’ll take a bottle of the ’72 Merlot,” he said. The waiter nodded and after explaining the specials to us, left us to choose our main courses.
“I don’t drink on race weeks – well, not until after the race,” I said finally.
He quirked his eyebrow at me, as if I had said something so ludicrous, he couldn’t possibly understand it. “If we’re to get through this, you might want to change that habit,” he bit out. I rolled my eyes at that – ever the gentlemen was Carlos, I thought sarcastically. I wanted to further my response, but decided against it – it was going to be a long season if we didn’t at least learn to be civil.
“So, Lizzie and Coco have come up with some questions for us to go through. They’re worried we won’t know enough about each other when the media comes along asking questions.”
Before he could retort with something that I am sure was plenty rude, I pulled out the small piece of paper and read the first question. “Besides racing, what is your favourite thing to do?” I wanted to internally groan at that question – how lame – but kept myself composed. I needed to know these things if we were going to sell this stunt. And I needed to sell this stunt if I was going to keep my seat.
“I golf,” he said plainly. I nodded for him to continue on, but the waiter was back with my water and the wine. Before I could protest, the waiter had already poured out two glasses. Fuck it, I thought to myself, maybe Carlos was right, a little wine might make this evening go better. I took a sip, and to my annoyance, the glass of wine was probably some of the best wine I had ever tasted. I was no wine snob, but Carlos had chosen an excellent bottle.
Bastard.
Carlos smirked slightly as he watched me drink the wine. He knew I’d like the wine, and reveled in the fact that he had convinced me to break my pre-race ritual.
“I like to paint,” I said casually, taking a second sip of the wine. “Your turn,” I said, passing over the small sheet of paper to Carlos. He frowned, but opened the paper up and read out the next question.
“What is your favourite colour?” He asked, scoffing ever so slightly.
“Purple. Yours?”
“Red.”
I simply looked at him, my mouth slightly agape. Of course it was red, Ferrari prick. Truth be told, I had wanted to say blue, but I thought I would sound stupid saying the color of my car. After hearing Carlos say red, it turned out I was right. I smirked internally to myself. Good one, Georgia.
Before I could continue to pat myself on my back for my internal snarky conversation, Carlos passed the questions back to me. “Favourite movie?” I asked.
“Who wrote these stupid questions?” He asked, taking the paper back from me and scanning them. “No one is going to ask us what each other’s favourite movie is or which type of pasta we like.”
I ignored his comment and answered my own question. “Mine is Perks of Being a Wallflower.”
“Never seen it.” Now that didn’t surprise me. He didn’t strike me as someone who watched romantic movies about coming of age teenagers. He struck me as a Terminator, Transformers, Michael Bay sort of guy. Big action movies, pretty girls, little plot.
“Here’s something I do want to know,” he said suddenly. “Every time Charles talks about you, he goes on and on about how funny and darling you are.” He said the last part with air quotes, but I chose to ignore them. “Why can’t you do that in front of the media?”
All at once I had a million things cross into my mind, but none of them seemed to fit with what I actually wanted to say. How I wanted to say that when I got in front of the media, it felt like the wind was being kicked out of me. How when I approached the media pen, my palms got so sweaty that I struggled to focus on anything but the drops of sweat dripping down my face and hands. How my quick remarks weren’t meant to be snippy – all I wanted was for the interview to be over as fast as possible so I could retreat back to the ease of my garage.
But I couldn’t let Carlos know any of that. Show the enemy no weakness, I reminded myself. “The same way you can’t stop yourself from making bad choices when you’re out partying. It’s in my nature,” I said with a sneaky grin. The snide remark wouldn’t be lost on him, and I knew that.
Georgia 1: Carlos 0
After that the waiter came back and took our order. The meal was relatively quiet. We went through a few more questions, nothing exciting, before exiting the restaurant. As we left, the manager approached us, asking for a photo. He apparently was a big Ferrari fan – typical – and had the nerve to ask if I could take the photo of him and Carlos. I agreed, much to my chagrin. I would definitely be hearing about that from Charles later.
Still, date 1 was complete. I had survived dinner, now I just had to survive drinks on Thursday and a couple visits to the Ferrari garage. I could do this – what could possibly go wrong?
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Redemption Arcs
What -- Nobody is past hope and everyone deserves a redemption arc. You finally talk with big brother Shane following you catching his flirting with unreceptive, scared Lori.
When -- in between season 2 episodes Chupacabra and Secrets. In the Slowpoke Series, after Thank you, angel
Relationships -- You and Daryl are the canon compliant slow burners of the series. In this chapter, Shane gets vulnerable.
Perspective -- 2nd person
Pronouns -- n/a
TWs -- some language
Word count - under 5,000
Masterlist -- Shiny and Official one here and Chronological one here
What small but good news do you have? -- been wanting that maturity label off Invisible, tugging strings Part 2 since April, and it was finally successfully removed without glitching back again! (took about 9 removals to stick)
If you are a new Slowpoke and haven't read any other stories in the series yet, I recommend reading He hasn't been himself before this one!
..........................................
Carol first takes another sip of tea, holding the mug by the base to heat up her fingers. “It sure got cold last night.”
She says this with one of her smiles she makes to try hiding her upset. It got very cold last night—and her Sophia didn’t even have long pants on when she was chased off.
This’ll be her fifth day lost, if she’s still alive.
Echoing Daryl’s insistent belief that she can be found alive, you voice the possibility that “With all the farmhouses in this area, she’d know to head up to a barn loft to keep warm.” A barn is probably where she’s been this whole time, you’re thinking. Provided there was nothing dead in one, that’s where you’d want to hide.
Carol reverts back to the original subject, finishing telling you, “But, um, to answer you, no, he stayed asleep the whole time I was there.” She’s blinking tears away. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything about her daughter.
You’d woken up later than usual, on the Greene’s couch, after Beth and Maggie began coming downstairs. Following a flurry of good mornins during which you remembered where you were, you blindly stumbled in your blanket toward Daryl’s room, met Carol coming inside with a steaming mug of tea, and you intended to check with her how Daryl’d slept after she took over monitoring him last night.
As soon as you opened your mouth to ask—lo and behold, the man in question wobbled out of his room, wrapped in a blanket like you were and citing the need for a toilet.
You hadn’t been sure if he was okay walking without a chaperone, so you hooked your good arm under his and started to help him.
He got all grumpy at that, then told you how he remembered throwing up yesterday right after his first fall and wanted to know if it was bad.
Well, he got more grumpy after you asked him through the bathroom door to tell you if his boxers had blood in them or if there was any red or brown coming from the front, red or black coming from the back.
Really, you’d changed babies with diaper rash who complained less than that mangy hick did over a simple medical question. Lucky for you, Patricia overheard and took over.
Now you’re inwardly making fun of yourself over having felt so silly with those butterflies in your stomach last night when Daryl accidentally ca—
“—As she headed in there with him a few minutes ago, the first thing out of Patricia’s mouth was how minty the room smelled,” Carol softly giggles, taking another sip of her tea. “I think the smell is stuck in my nose.”
“Mine, too. I like it.”
When asked about the mint, all you’d told Carol was that you’d given some of the muscle rub and the peppermint oil to Daryl to help. You just didn’t specify that it was via…massage. You felt that detail might could’ve been misconstrued.
Especially given that poor dude was so out of it that: he accidentally called you ‘angel.’
It’s not deep. At most, Daryl was having a temporary bout of Florence Nightingale Syndrome, but the highest likelihood is that it was simply an injured person (him) being exhausted and loopy, therefore misattributing the giver of pain relief (you) to an angel.
You never thought you’d feel glad he went back to normal today, all grumpy and grating. It’s a relief that the butterflies in your stomach who plagued you yesterday are all gone now.
Carol calls your name and jiggles your wrist, and you blink. “Sorry, what?”
“Your brother’s coming over,” she repeats—and you’re already hightailing it.
See? Not angelic in the slightest, you can’t even face your own brother without wanting to cuss him out or shove him.
Kudos to you that when Shane calls your name and adds a, “G’morning,” with it, you respond neutrally with “Mornin’. Gonna grab my mp3, be right back.”
“You comin’ with us to the highway today, check for our girl?” Shane calls before you’re inside.
“You know it.”
“We leave in 10.”
“’Kay.”
He starts chatting with Carol as far as you can tell as you stride into the house. You suppose you have to get the music player, now, so you won’t be a liar like him. You know he's trying to get on your good side, what with his "our girl," stuff.
Knocking three times on the door to the room Daryl’s in, you await a response.
“Yeah, s’fine, come in,” he answers on the other side of it.
Opening the door, you’re met with the strong smell of mint and find Patricia still there with him, checking his pupils again as she greets, “Hi, sweetpea. I’d ask how you slept, but seein’ as you’re yawning and were still asleep on the couch 15 minutes ago…” She grins where she’s crouched in front of Daryl.
“Might will nap later,” you admit. “I’m just here for my music player.”
You just now recall that you’d meant to bring Daryl some of his stuff this morning. Toothbrush, pillow, PJ pants, that sort of thing.
Which means you’ll have to go back outside sooner, which means you’ll need to face your brother sooner.
You make a quick prayer for guidance, slip the mp3 into your pocket, and make for the door.
When you think you feel Daryl looking at you, you snap your eyes up in challenge.
He looks away so quick you nearly miss it. And the really nice nervous thrill that shivers through your belly is hopefully the last of the irrational butterflies. It’s one more thing to deal with, and toward Daryl of all people?
Mp3 in your pocket, you exit the house and begin to walk quickly toward Daryl’s tent. Your brother leaves Carol and follows at your pace despite his slight remaining limp.
He asks how you slept.
You shrug. “Could use more. You?”
“Better than I thought I would. Still up for target practice when we get back?”
“So long as I ain’t the target.”
His steps slow, and when he goes to speak, there’s hesitation. “Been talkin’ to Dale or was that one of your jokes?”
“I think it was a joke. What’s that about Mr. H?”
“Ain’t nothing, Y/N.” He stops walking altogether and puts his hands on his hips, moving his hand to muss his hair and instead meeting with the new buzzcut.
“What do you want, Shane?”
Your brother licks his teeth. “For you to just listen.”
Grimacing, you resume walking. “What do you possibly have to say to defend yourself?” you curse under your breath, even though you know you shouldn’t.
Continuing to follow you, he insults, “High and mighty today, are we?”
Your throat goes tight either from offense or because you’re so upset at what he did. Then, eyes growing moist, the anger turns to a type of sadness you can’t place. “I’m scrapin’ the bottom of the barrel here, Shaney, help me out.”
Your brother doesn’t say anything other than an apology until you two finish the walk to Daryl’s tent.
“Why we here, anyway?”
“Gettin’ Daryl his toothbrush and things,” you mumble.
It’s when you bend to unzip the door that he crouches and puts his hand on your arm. “Y/N. I meant what I said yesterday. The three people I care about most in this world are you, Lori, and Carl.”
Your turn to lick your teeth. “And Rick.” You unzip the door flap and look for Daryl’s stuff to bring him. His pillow isn’t very clean-looking.
Shane doesn’t seem to acknowledge what you said when he goes on, “And I’d do anythin’ to keep you three safe.”
“And Rick,” you say again, more pleading. “Please help me understand what’s going on with you and him.”
He starts looking not quite at you, then at anyplace else.
“Tell me the truth,” you warn. “You’re lookin’ all around the way you do before you lie.”
“Rick nearly got Carl killed and nearly got you killed. Because of that, nearly got me killed, too, if it weren’t for Otis. And Otis’ death is ultimately on his hands, too, not mine.”
After saying Otis’ name, he has to swallow and close his eyes. He probably won’t ever shake the guilt that Otis sacrificed himself so Shane could get the respirator back.
And now, opposed to seeing in your brother someone unfamiliar and scary, right now you see him clearly, and see that he’s broken in two.
You want to understand better, but you don’t yet. With only a light stress-stutter, you ask “Why are you saying Rick did all that?”
His nose twitches. “I’ve learned that Rick can’t make the tough decisions. Tough decisions save lives.”
“Tough decisions?”
“If we had gone to Fort Benning, instead of the—the CDC?” His anger bubbles up. “C’mon, Y/N, what the hell was he thinkin’? Going to a government building in a city the feds themselves napalmed, to the goddamn Centers for Disease Control,” he mocks, smiling in bitter disbelief. “A place what had mile-high security even before the world fell apart.” He rubs his head again as he coughs, “Y/N, he took the whole group, he took his family, his wife and child, into Atlanta? He knew what the city was like, yet he chose that, risked us all, instead of someplace we knew would be safe.”
You stare at the ground and don’t know if you’re supposed to say anything or not, so you don’t.
Shane sounds less angry, but more disgusted. Jealous, too. “Lori ain’t my wife, Carl ain’t my son, but I kept them alive for Rick, in Rick’s honor.” Then, he quiets. “And because we loved them. I love Lori and that boy so m…” he trails off, knowing he’s just been very honest. The hard lines on his face soften, and his posture sinks just enough for you to notice. “Then, this asshole waltzes back alive, takes ’em on back.”
He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. “And now Jacqui, Sophia, and Otis; now three people are dead because of him and his choices. And look at you. After comin’ that close to getting shot as bad as Carl was, you’re out there breakin’ your body more and more every day on this goddamn wild goose chase for a dead little girl—you think I’m stupid enough to believe your stitches had to get ‘redone?’ I saw Carol washin’ your bloodstained shirts, Y/N, it—hell, and now, even Daryl almost died from this bullshit. All because of King Rick, his-his inability to—” He cuts off, finally exhales, then sinks his head in his hands and rests his elbows on his knees where he sits in the dirt across from you.
There’s an uneasy, sick feeling in your stomach, and your body feels weighed down.
“Please say somethin’, Y/N, anything.”
Unprepared, you stumble through, “I-I’m happy you, uh—it’s good you unbottled that.” You stare at the grass and wipe your eyes. “M’happy that you told me.”
“You’re happy I dumped all this shit on you?” he says in attempt to make light of something heavy.
You copy his attempt. “Better out than in.” After a few moments of silence, you then murmur, “I’m happy to share the weight, I love you.”
“Y/N.”
You raise your eyes to where he sits. He’s got the same lost look on his face you’ve seen a lot of in the past handful months after the world fell apart. Like that night at the CDC, when he’d broken down crying. When he’d escaped the hospital after trying to rescue Rick and thinking he’d died. When he’d come back with a respirator but without Otis.
“I know it’s wrong, blamin’ him.” He rubs the top of his head the way he does whenever he’s upset or thinking too much.
“That you know it’s wrong is a good thing.”
“I know I’m wrong,” he whispers. “But I don’t think it matters. Or that I care.”
“What do you mean?”
“If we wanna survive, we need to make hard choices.”
Your tone of voice bites. “Like Lori told you yesterday, it’s easy to cut losses and not help. Easiest damned thing, Shane, so that’s enough about ‘hard’ choices.”
He doesn’t snarl back. He barely reacts, in fact.
Voice gruff, he mutters, “I’ve slid, Y/N. Real far down. Done some awful things.”
“You can choose good ones next time,” you offer simply.
“Sometimes the good ones are awful things, if they mean savin’ lives.”
A twinge of dread roils in your belly. “Justifying wrongs make them worse.”
“You sound so damn naïve sometimes, kid.” He rolls his eyes before tucking his head between his knees. Yet, he next asks, “When does somebody get too far gone?”
“That limit doesn't really exist. Nobody’s past hope.”
You see his chest expand and deflate with controlled breaths. And you’re about to stand up and bring Daryl his things when he says in a low voice, “Y/N, tell me about the rope thing again. And the drowning thing, too?”
Your brow creases. He wants you to repeat those two scenarios?
“Okay,” you answer, even if uncertain why he suddenly wants to talk ethics.
First, you call to mind the details... “There are, um, people on a rope that’s hangin’ off a cliff. The rope is breaking and will break, and those clingin’ to the rope will all fall and likely die unless the person on the bottom drops off. Now, the person at the top of the rope or in the middle can’t drop off in the bottom person's place, ’cause that’ll knock off those below them anyway and lead to more death. And it ain’t fair, but for the person on the bottom, is it their moral obligation to let go. And it’s…” your throat goes tight again. You think you’re starting to understand why he asked you to tell him this.
Still, you go on: “It’s morally acceptable and, and even the duty of the person directly above the lowest person to get them off the rope in-in-in order to save lives—Shane, I don’t wanna finish.”
“The person above them can sever the rope, they can even kick the person off,” he says for you, but not in a prideful way. He’s quiet and somber, a thousand-yard stare in his eyes. To you, he says, “But this thing with Sophia, I ain’t saying Sophia was at the bottom.”
His demeanor lowers your defenses, and you finish the scenario. “Only because the rope will break and lead to more death unless the weight is lessened is why it's permissible for the bottom person to let go or even get pushed off, but only because the rope will break and this is known. What the other people or person above them on the rope cannot do is directly kill the person on the bottom in order to make them let go, even though the end result might will end up the same. To directly kill a person is not right and is always evil, even if the end result will be the same.” You try to remember the exact wording that you’d learned. “‘Direct killing is morally permissible only for cases of self-defense against a direct, real-time aggressor who is intendin’ to kill or grievously harm you or another.’”
Shane’s eyes are glassy, the lost, scared expression still clouding his face. “Repeat the drownin’ one, too? Please.”
He looks so sad.
“Two p-people are drowning, but one is, uh, climbin’ onto the other to keep their own head above water. The person being used as a life raft can and should fight off the person, because otherwise they will accidentally be drowned. What they can’t do is, y’know, like, shoot the other in the face or shove them into the jaws of a hungry shark.” Which was your inappropriate grasp at making light, ugh, that was in really bad form. “Sorry,” you apologize, then speak like a grown-up: “The person bein’ unwittingly drowned cannot hold the other guy underwater to drown them instead, even if it’s to get them to stop. ’Cause again, to directly kill is evil. Unless the other person is a direct aggressor because they want you dead or harmed bad, in which case it’s self-defense.”
He sniffs and takes a deep breath. Shane’s eyes don’t have that thousand-yard stare anymore, now they simply look pained.
“Y/N, I don’t feel like myself,” he admits under his breath. “I haven’t. Can hardly recognize myself sometimes, but it’s as if I…” He throws his hand up. “I know I’m wrong but still don’t think it’s wrong.”
“This about Rick, Sophia, or Lori?” you ask. "Or Otis?" pops into your mind and out of your mouth.
“All of it, I reckon, I-I don’t know, I can’t…” His hand cups his mouth and trails down to his chin. “What I want with Lori I know is wrong. Y/N, I keep tryin’ to convince myself she wants me, loves me. That I deserve them ’cause I’m better for her and him.”
The news about the new baby tears through your insides and scatters your thoughts. “She does love you, just not in that way. And that thing about ‘deserved,’ that’s gotta go, man,” you respond, not that it’s helpful.
Nodding, he grunts, “I know.”
“Not that that helps much,” you apologize. Shane used to go to your eldest sister for this kind of thing. They were closest with each other. But that line, that idea about ‘deserving’ them because he’s better for them…that’s bad, it’s very bad.
Then, from the campsite, you hear Andrea shout “Five minutes, Walshes!”
Neither of you speak as a warm breeze sweeps over the field and across the yard.
Your big brother looks to you as if he’s a small, scared kid.
“Y/N, what do I do?”
So, you tell him the most concrete advice you can think of. “You go check the highway. Do a quick sweep of your grid. Host target practice like you and Ricky have planned, teach me more fightin’ moves like you had planned.”
He’s nodding, lost in space. “What about tomorrow?”
You lift one corner of your mouth sadly. “Check the highway. Do a quick sweep of your grid. Target practice, chores, work out. Normal stuff. Take it one day at a time. Things’ll get better, or you’ll get stronger. Either way.”
Shane wipes his eyes and blinks away any trace of having gotten emotional. “This what you had to do all them times you wanted to die?”
A cold spreads from your middle. “Do you want to die, Shaney?”
“No. I don’t wanna die, hell no, I just—” he inhales, holds it, exhales. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on with me.” He massages his neck with one hand. “Y/N, it feels like I’m either another person or I’m going batshit.”
That he’s suffering isn’t good, but hearing him say that is, because it means that he sees the problem, too.
“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t think there was somethin’ off.” You swallow and make yourself say, “I trust you.”
Now he’s shaking his head. “I don’t even trust myself right now.”
“That’s why you have me, loser.”
Shane smiles a little when you tell him that. Next, he stands, and appears to lose himself in thought again as picks up what you grabbed from Daryl’s tent. Then he freezes.
He puts the things back down, and sits again. “Y/N, I may have to go for a little while.”
“Where, a fuel run?”
He clasps the back of his head. “Away.”
Away? “Where’s away?”
“Away. For just a while.”
Away as in…leaving?
“Because of this Lori thing? Shane, there’s—”
“—It’s…more complicated than that—” he interrupts, but you interrupt right back, “—B-Because of Rick, then? What?”
“Kettle off the burner, Y/N.”
You hold in what you were going to say and count to five.
It doesn’t do the trick. “Man the hell up and get it out of your system.We can’t leave them!”
“Not ‘we,’ me. I can. It’s just for a little while, honey.”
Now he’s calling you ‘honey?’ He only does that when it’s serious.
You try to smile and play it off as if he’s just confused and needs encouragement. “Don’t act so dramatic, loser,” you tease. “We don’t have to go. Things aren’t good in some ways right now, but th-they will get better.”
“Not ‘we’, ‘I’. I think I do. I’m serious, kid.”
“Well, I, if-if you go—Shane, come on, I can’t let you go without me.”
“You can.”
“Shane. Stop, I don’t like this.”
He doesn’t stop. “If the person on the bottom has get cut off or drop off so the rest won’t fall—”
“—That is not what that means and you know it!” you push back. What is going on?
He appears to check himself. “I’m sorry, I—” He holds up a hand. “Y/N, I think me leavin’ awhile is what needs to be done. Lori does, too—no, don’t say anythin’ else about it, we won’t get nowhere.”
“You don’t need to cut yourself off. We don’t need to cut you off. That, that scenario was for a literal life or death situation, not whatever’s goin’ on here.” It’s like you can’t inhale enough.
“Y/N, I’m sorry, you’re right,” he soothes. “But I do need to leave—”
“—No, if you get ‘cut off’ or, or jump or whatever, I’m jumping down with you. You get that, right?” you almost shout.
He shakes his head as if he pities you. “This is why I didn’t tell you before.”
“You’re fixing to blame me for my reaction to my brother deciding to cut himself off from his family and risk his neck, goin’ off alone,” you pause to inhale, “because of a bad breakup, when now dead people walk and eat the living?”
Catching your breath, you watch as your words hit home.
Briefly, he covers his eyes in what looks like shame, he winces, then makes a quiet apology and says, “I’ll give it time. Ain’t like I was planning to leave tomorrow.”
Your shoulders slump. “How long you been considerin’ this?”
The way he opens his mouth and closes it without speaking is the first warning. The second is how he begins by softly calling you,“honey,” again.
“I was plannin’ to leave…over a week ago. Been planning it awhile,” he confesses.
The words sink in while you sit and blink.
It’s the next thing he says that feels like a sucker punch.
“It got cancelled when Carl got shot, but now I think I gotta…anyway, Lori knew. Dale knew, too. Andrea.”
Noises turn fuzzy and your brain grows quiet. You exhale the breath you forgot about and cover your face with your hands. They all knew? Lori knew?
You regain yourself when your brother goes, “Honey, I’m sorry.”
“Shaney, you ain’t serious.” Not one of them mentioned this to you. Did they not care?
“I don’t think they knew you were in the dark about it,” Shane assures you as if he could read your thoughts. “What’s more is I don’t reckon they thought you’d come with.They wouldn’t want you to go.”
You force yourself to exhale again, you keep forgetting to breathe.
“I’m sorry.”
“I forg—no, this is too much, this is so much,” you finally burst into tears. “I’ll forgive you, but I-I need a few hours.” Inhale, exhale. “Shane, I am so fuckin’…hurt!” Stupid. You feel so stupid. Blind and naïve and stupid.
“Take your time. God knows I took mine in fessing up.”
You sniff as much as you can, seeing as Daryl most likely doesn’t have tissues in his tent.
Shane was planning to leave, and at least three people knew about it. But not you, his own family.
The man has fallen low. Betraying Rick and Lori wasn’t enough, not caring about Sophia wasn’t enough; turns out you’re also somebody he doesn’t care about.
Maybe him going away is best, the hurt part of you shrieks. Good riddance!
And once he learns about the baby, this whole Lori thing will blow up if you can’t defuse it, and you don’t think you will be able.
The question he asked you earlier replays in your mind.
“When does somebody get too far gone?”
“I don’t believe that limit exists, man. Nobody’s past hope.”
Goddamn, you’re so tired.
Head against your bent knees, you don’t care why he’s going into Daryl’s tent. You don’t care about what he’s holding out to you, either, and you move away from whatever it is.
“All he had was damp paper towels,” Shane murmurs. “Please, take one.”
“I’d rather blow my nose on your shirt, for all I care,” you hiccup.
Andrea calls your names again. “Y/N, Shane, time to go!”
You don’t move.
Shane doesn’t move, as much you can tell from where your face lies hidden on your knees.
And, like much of this past week, you didn’t see coming what would happen next, what Shane would do. That your big brother would be so...penitent? toward you that he quite actually would remove his shirt and hand it to you?
You blink in disbelief, then find yourself close to smiling. “I can’t actually blow my nose on your shirt, you goon.”
The chicken noises he makes change your mind.
“You dick, I’m gonna actually do it. Then I’ma burn it, I ain’t makin’ nobody clean up what’s in my nose.”
“It’s cool. I deserve worse.”
The word still rubs you the wrong way. “What you deserve is a redemption arc,” you sniffle, and then cannot help but add this minor dig, “And a week without a razor might would do you good, so you’d have to suffer through havin’ chest hair again.”
Shane quietly cracks up, then, yeah, you really need to wipe your nose, so you really use his shirt after he adds how it’ll help his guilt.
When you’re good, you twist your mouth at him. You’re still hurt to the bone, but it’s easing. “You were just aching for an excuse to strip, weren’t you?” you rib.
“Mmhm. Just need me an audience and some Boyz 2 Men in the background, and I’ll be all set.” Grinning at your gagging reaction, he holds out a hand to help you to your feet. And, once he’s picked up Daryl’s pillow and begins to walk back with you, he calls you by your nickname.
His expression looks sad again, and the way he asks makes it clear he wants advice. “What else can I do to get whatever this is out of my system? Do better?”
This is also unexpected, so you bend to pick up some wildflowers. Clover, Queen Anne’s lace, and some smaller yellow ones and some daisy-looking ones. Standing up, you lift your good shoulder in a shrug. “You know how it is, sometimes we gotta fake it ’til we make it.”
He’s asking you advice. His square little sibling.
“What’re the flowers for?”
“Otis. Gonna pop them on his cairn on the way back.”
A cloud seems to pass over him. There are a few moments where nothing is said as he follows you to the rock pile.
“I’ll act right about Sophia,” he promises softly.
Even though he’s admitting his wrongs, the upset flicks on again. You reimagine pulling a tea kettle off the heat before it starts to whistle. “And you’ll give Lori space, and get her out of your head.”
Your brother grunts in assent. “I will.”
“A lot of space, hear?” you mutter while plunking the flowers on the memorial and picking up the pace to get to the SUV. “And stop flirting when you see you’ve upset somebody, that’s the biggest part I didn’t get. She looked frightened, Shane, you had to have seen her back away and cower. Is that who you are now?”
“No,” leaps from his mouth, followed by a sober, quieter, “No.”
A loud clash that was most definitely the cooking pans that were stacked to dry on the chair sounds from the campsite. You hear Lori and T-Dog laugh as you get closer.
“When you used to get all sad, what did you have to do?” he wants to know next.
“For me, it was more of a wait until things leveled out. I had to go through the motions a lot, kept myself distracted. Got help, which was the key part.” You toss his old shirt into the campfire as you two pass it. Glenn stares at you very confused, prompting you to mime him taking off his shirt and tossing it into the fire, after which you look back at him as if questioning why he isn’t also burning his.
“Distractions, okay.Guess I’ll, um,” Shane thinks aloud. As you two pass the clothesline, he takes one of his off the line and pulls it on. “Guess I might will start doing daily runs again, while we got a safe place.”
You smile politely. That advice used to annoy you a bit, too. Exercise does help, though. “Nothin’ gets it all out of your system for a while quite like a run.”
“Mm, literal and figurative, dependin’ on how hard you run.”
You scrunch your nose and pout. “Ew.”
“As if you wouldn’t have made that exact joke if I hadn’t first, weirdo.” Shane lifts a corner of his mouth before he lets himself smile big. It looks like a real one.
The words replay again.
“When does somebody get too far gone?”
“That limit doesn't really exist. Nobody’s past hope.”
You let yourself smile a little, too.
“I’ll run these inside to Daryl, you and the girls hop on in the car, then we’ll roll. And,” he says loud enough that Carol can overhear from where she stands holding the ragdoll. “Ground rules: Sophia gets shotgun if we find her there today. Cool?”
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The Dream - Chapter Seventeen.
Yeah... I think I’ve made you all wait for long enough, which is unheard of with me as I usually do give y’all a little filth much sooner, so here. Have at it. Come graze upon this offering of smut I present for the besties!
Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen
Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)
Words - 2,778
Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!
‘Miss you, gorgeous. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow and let you examine how pretty my new undies are with a very, very close inspection xx’
“Fuck. Me. Sideways.”
“Is that even physically possible?” Coco chirped, miming moving a woman around over his crotch, trying to work it out.
“He’d find a way,” EZ nodded, Angel lifting his sunglasses as he lay back on his bike, viewing the picture Keri had just sent him with nothing short of very keen interest. “Keri sending you nudes?”
“Yo, lemme get a look.” Coco was off his bike and attempting to peer at Angel’s phone in seconds, the man himself pushing him back with a boot to the thigh.
“Get outta here, homes. Y’all ain’t checking out my girl,” he snorted, turning to EZ. “And no. In undies. That I wanna fucking remove with my goddamned teeth.” Oh, how he did, too. He wouldn’t lie to himself, he’d been left massively sexually frustrated upon his departure from Utah almost two weeks before, but he was trying hard not to revert to his bad habit of making things all about him.
In the past, he likely would have snapped at her that she didn’t have anything to worry about, given her some kind of “yo, girl! Can’t you fuckin’ see I’m crazy about you, so just let me bang you already!” speech, but he’d made those kinds of inconsiderate mistakes much too often, which had inevitably ended up with him being labelled - quite rightly - as a thoughtless jerk. He didn’t want to be that guy any longer, and Keri, she very much brought out the desire not to be.
Even if right at that moment, he was quietly cursing her for making him so horny, with no outlet for that. Again, not too long ago, he would likely have lost interest and not had to work very hard in chasing someone else with the end goal of getting between their legs, but not this time. Not with her. If something as inconceivable as meeting her in his dreams had taught him anything, apart from that she was there for a reason, it was that he was capable of doing – and being – better.
Maturity; it had to land with him sooner or later. He was sick of the messes he perpetually found himself diving into headfirst where women were concerned.
As soon as Bishop arrived back with them, relaying the information they were waiting on, it was business as usual, the guys heading out, their affairs not wrapped up until 4am the following morning, after which Angel very, very gladly faceplanted his bed. He fell asleep smiling, knowing the next time he’d be in it, Keri would be beside him. Eleven hours, and he’d have her in his arms. After one quick commitment to uphold for the club, he was free to take the ride up to San Diego, excited beyond measure to see her again.
“Angel, you’re smushing me,” she spoke at just after 3pm the following afternoon as he greeted her from her flight.
“Might have missed you, just a tiny bit. Not much, just this much.” He held up his thumb and forefinger, a barely there gap between them.
She replicated the gesture. “Just this much?”
Leaning to her, he kissed her softly. “Mmhmm.”
Draping her arms around his neck, she basked in his affection, the warmth and scent of him, wanting to entwine in endless kisses. God, she’d missed him so much. Moving through the airport arm in arm, Keri couldn’t help but notice something quite different, being with him on his home turf. The way people looked at him was entirely different to when he’d visited her. Could he really be so notorious in California, especially in a city almost an hour from where he actually lived?
It hit her then. The notoriety wasn’t his specifically; it was the kutte that he wore. Mayan. Danger. Outlaw. What she saw in the faces of those who viewed him was uncertainty, distrust and fear, which were at polar odds with how she herself viewed him. It was a strange sensation that came over her, one of suddenly feeling untouchable by association. What he was, it carried weight, a weight that she was only truly witnessing at that moment for the first time, all because of the patch upon his back.
Then there were the women, who looked at him with the same level of lust he stirred within her. She was more used to noticing that, though, a little tingle of pride sparkling in her. He was gorgeous, and he was hers. He chose her. He wanted her. To be wanted with such desire, Angel pausing beside his bike to devote a little more time to affection, it only made the happiness within her bubble more. As well as something else, too.
As soon as the arrived at his home, she set her bag down, turning to him with a sultry smile, her fingers undoing the buttons of her top. It had been long enough. “So, that close inspection of my underwear.” She watched the corners of his mouth turn up, eyes narrowing slightly as he stared down at her, his fingers nudging beneath her bra straps, fingertips smoothing over her skin.
She expected an onslaught, the release of everything that had steadily built, but as he tilted her head back and bent to kiss her, there was no urgency to it. The heat blazed as a slow tempest, her fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, his flicking her bra undone as he guided her towards the bedroom, both naked by the time they fell to the bed together.
“Yeah,” he breathed, hands stroking her thighs, “I’d rather inspect what’s beneath way more.” For the two weeks they’d been apart, they’d burned for one another, for their dreams to literally come to life, their bodies catching up with their minds. Her hands wandered over the wide plains of muscle, the feel of him sublime, his mouth buried at her neck, stirring heat to mist beneath her skin.
She wondered briefly whether he’d seek to get his own back after her little stunt in the shower, but with the speed his kisses descended her body, hands stroking her with keen appreciation, she realised that his want for her was far greater than his need for sexual revenge. When those kisses fluttered over her apex before his tongue spread the petals of her cunt with a firm lick, her hips jolted, breath caught fast in her throat, her heart somersaulting in her chest when her gaze caught his, watching him wink, his eyes shuttering to closed, Keri sighing in bliss as she focused on the magic his tongue began to conjure.
Focused circles at her clit had pleasure falling through her like a shooting star, her body the sky it streaked across, her mouth dropping open as a soft moan poured out, Angel’s hands smoothing up her thighs, pushing them, spreading her before him more.
The flat drag of his tongue through her folds sent a skitter through her, his lips closing around her clit to suck, cheeks hollowing, his cock jerking in response to her sudden cry. No dream could compare to the reality, the heaven of burying his mouth against her, the way it felt to have her purl against each lick as her hands grasped tightly in his hair.
He had her mindless quickly, Keri shaking against him as his tongue sped and slowed against the wet of her, her clit swelling, her thighs quivering as his fingers clenched, short nails leaving red crescents upon her soft skin. What had begun as slow soon escalated, Angel eating with greedy aplomb, his lips tight around her clit, the bliss cutting through right to the very marrow of her.
She jerked against the anchoring weights of his hands holding her down, and he smiled against her slick, releasing his hold on her, enjoying the feel of her legs wrapping around his head, his hands touring her body, clenching at her tits, her nipples pinched until she wailed, the pleasure breaking over her as each lick dragged sparks of utter nirvana at her clit.
“Oh... fuck!” she gritted, panting hard, writhing against his mouth. He continued to stroke her, the contrast of hot hands and the coldness of his rings making her tingle, her feet rested on his shoulders as the tip of his tongue became a blur of flickers over her clit, driving cries from her as she slicked against his mouth, his groans hungry.
She felt bereft when he suddenly sat up, reaching to his nightstand drawer. “I swear, you can fucking sit on my face for as long as you like later, but right now, nah. I gotta be inside you, baby.” He ripped open a condom wrapper and pulled it on quickly, moving to exchange ferociously heated kisses with her, Keri grabbing her legs and pushing them down either side of her head behind her arms. His raised eyebrow was extremely approving.
“Oh yeah,” she purred, “I’m very flexible.”
He smirked widely. “Imma ‘bout to have a whole lotta fun with that fact.” Kissing her again, he shuddered when she reached to squeeze his shaft, teeth laying a soft bite upon her lower lip, moving to grip her wrist and move her hand away. She moaned longingly against his tongue, her hands gripping his shoulders, nails dragging down over his chest.
“Please, just fuck me, Angel.”
“Is this what you want, huh?” Grasping his cock, he rubbed it through the silk of her folds, feeling her tremble beneath him. “Yeah, you want this dick right up deep in your gorgeous little pussy, want me to stretch you out, make you moan pretty for me?”
Oh god... she could barely handle it. The feel of him, the tease, the dirty talk. “Yes.” she breathed, clasping his face and kissing him, feeling him press her opening and finally, finally, part her soaking walls with a push, her groan full-bodied. He gave her a few thrusts, pulling out again, mouth raining kisses over her neck, his thumb moving to stroke her clit.
He filled her again, giving her another few drags of his cock before retreating, her nerve endings tingling beneath his thumb, a little helpless whine spilling over her lips. “Well, I did say I’d get you back for that shit you pulled on me in the shower.” Kissing her, his thumb sped up, her body quivering harder. “Might have to tease you for a while.”
The head of him pressed forth, shallowly opening her, their kisses all embers and honey as her nails dragged down his arms, biting his lower lip softly as he filled her, then left her aching and empty again. “Oh my god, Angel please! Just fuck me, please fuck me.”
He kissed her, nuzzling her nose with his. “Yeah, baby. I will. Eventually.” She growled in frustration, making him laugh softly. “You’ll love how I give it until I do. Trust me.” Pushing into her again, her walls locked around him, a viscid clench pulsing on his shaft. He withdrew from her, his thumb pushing a little firmer, kissing her slow and dirty, her entire body stiffening when he thrust forth once more, a few strokes given before once again denying her.
She shook uncontrollably, the anticipation tightening in her muscles, filled again, emptied again, the heat at her clit building as he rubbed his thumb faster, breeching her once more, Keri wailing as he gently bit the side of her neck. “Shit, I’m gonna come! Fuck!”
It shot through her at the same time as he filled her, and didn’t pull back again, long, hard strokes making the sparks continue to roll over her spine, the way he parted her soaking walls knocking the breath from her, their kisses all smouldering smoke, hands pawing at one another as their skin began to glint from the heat of the afternoon mingling with the magma that surged between them.
The threads if their bond thickened in what weaved them together, a stare of deep brown meeting hazel, intense, their foreheads touching, lost in one another entirely. A shift of her hips sent him deeper, the drag of his fat cock warming her veins with a pleasure that was sharp toothed and biting, his fuck stretching her wide, making glimmers sizzle through her.
Lightning began to crackle beneath his skin, beginning its scorching ascent up his spine, the need to feel himself unravel so wild, he couldn’t contain it.
“Yeah, that’s it. Come for me.” she panted, grasping his face in her hands, her nails dragging through his beard and over his neck as he pounded out every last wave of bliss that took him to his undoing, groaning deep against her tongue as he shuddered, his muscles all tightening as the dark wave of pleasure pulled him under. He slowed in the aftermath, not stopping immediately, cock still gently cutting through her slick walls, Angel looking pained.
“Sorry,” he panted, laughing softly. “I swear, I usually last way longer than five damned minutes!”
“It’s okay!” Her reassurance was quick, kissing him, her hands smoothing over his arms. “I take it as a compliment. Besides, you’ve had two weeks of me being a terror with some of the messages I’ve been sending you.”
He glowered, making her laugh. “Yeah, that too, you tiny beast.” He caught his breath, enjoying the warmth of her before sliding out, disposing of the condom and falling onto his back, beckoning for her. “Gimme about a half hour, and then you’re getting the absolute hell pounded out of you.”
And lord, he wasn’t wrong.
With her legs spread into full splits, lying on her front with a big hand gripped at the back of her neck, Keri wailed into the bed covers as Angel railed her from behind, his other hand clutched tight on her ass cheek before it moved to spank her, the pain of it sending throbbing little skitters up her spine. The way he fucked her, each forceful roll of his hips sending every last inch of him within the velvet clasp of her cunt, oh god. She thought she’d known amazing sex before. Her exes had been good, great, even. Angel? Dynamite.
He slipped from her for a moment, his hands grasping at her hips, pulling her up until she took her weight onto her knees, looking down at the soaking mess of her sex, a ripple of erotic delight running through him to witness her literally drip onto the bed covers, she was so aroused. Pushing back in, he parted her slowly, dragging his cock back out again, rubbing the tip against her clit, watching goosepimples begin to fleck her skin as he repeated the action again and again.
Keri couldn’t remember the last time she’d been rendered utterly dick drunk, but god, he was making that happen for her so well, absolutely blissed out as he continued to make her flutter around him with slower strokes before once more, she was rendered a wailing mess by the magmatic onslaught of the pounding she received.
He came hard, filling the condom before taking it off, securing it with a knot and flinging it into the trash, telling Keri to stay exactly where she was before lying beneath her, his mouth wrapping in a thirsty suck around her folds, tongue prodding against her dewy hole as he pushed her up until she was sitting on his face.
“You seem to be at your most content with a mouth full of pussy,” she noted, gasping as he sucked hard on her clit.
“Mm.” He hummed, tongue circling her bud as he sucked, hands gripped onto her butt, each cheek squeezed firmly as she leaned back against his chest, making him groan as she grinded herself against his mouth. She loved the way his beard felt against her tender folds, never experiencing someone with quite so much facial hair going down on her before, the way he looked at her while he did it, too, those groans, him. All of him.
All of him was exactly what she continued to enjoy long into the evening, neither of them leaving his bedroom unless it was to use the bathroom, or when Angel grabbed them some beers and took in a pizza delivery at just gone 8pm. After they’d eaten, they were back to fucking each other senseless in between bouts of lying there talking.
It was about to become a very enjoyable four days, if nothing else.
#angel reyes#angel reyes fanfiction#angel reyes smut#angel reyes imagine#angel reyes x ofc#mayans mc#mayans mc fanfiction#mayans mc imagine#mayans mc smut#mayans mc fanfic#mayans mc fic
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Hello. Welcome to Chapter 9. A lot happened last time. Our couple is official! This chapter, we return to seeing all three of our wildflowers, starting with Molly, followed by Cora and Susannah. We also start to heat things up, again. Hence the ‘mature’ label.
If you’re just joining us, please catch up with the master list.
Thank you to the ever beautiful @lvnterninthenight, @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake for helping me with this story - each in their own way. I also want to thank @lightmylove-gvf, @takenbythemadness and @loveisonaroll - you guys (gn) have been so important giving me the support to keep going. Thank you 😘
This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine. Please do not take it for your own personal use. I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story. But it is mine.
Content warnings: Depression. Drug abuse and overdose. And there’s passion in this one. 18+, heavy touching.
Word count: approx. 6800 words
Chapter Nine: Descent, Heart Sick, Care - Molly POV
Pushing into the dressing room, Molly heard the clank of upset bottles. Susannah sat slumped in her chair, hands gripping at the desk and a laudanum bottle. When she looked back, it was sightless. Molly felt herself cringe at the sight of her friend’s struggle.
“How much of that have you had today, love?” she asked.
Molly quickly crossed the space. The fringe and beadwork of her dress rattled and whispered as she moved. Taking the bottle from Susannah’s limp grip, she held it up to see the contents. Her eyes rolled at the sight. She was sure the bottle had already lost a third of its volume.
“Must be bad today,” she whispered. She caught Susannah’s thin frame as she started to slide from the chair in a weak attempt of gaining her footing. “Let’s have you lay down, baby.”
“Where’s my Sammy boy?” Susannah whined.
“In the garage as usual,” Molly grunted.
Half carrying, half dragging, she got Susannah to the chaise lounge. Three girls toppled through the door, upsetting the curtains and screening. Molly noted that her friend did not even flinch at the ruckus.
“Lulu, you’re going on for Susannah, so hurry your ass up,” Molly ordered.
“Sure, Mols,” the girls answered.
She yanked the privacy screen hard with a glare. Susannah was whimpering in her haze of medication and whiskey. She debated dumping the problem into Samuel’s lap. This was his girl after all. He should be the one caring for her. She stood and began to turn away, eyes landing on the dressing table. Aside from the laudanum and whiskey, there did not seem to be anything else present that would harm her.
Washed up and dressed, she looked in on Susannah. The girl was going to lose her coveted position within the dance troupe. Mr. Joshua would not tolerate her behavior and her lack of work. Molly would only be able to smooth things over and cover for her for so long. She brushed the hair from her friend’s forehead and received no response. Her brows knitted with concern.
“Hey, baby girl,” she said. Nothing. Clearing her throat she increased her volume with a shake on her shoulder. “Come on, Susannah. Wake it up for a bit.”
Nothing. Placing a finger under her nose, she could feel a trace of the woman’s breath. Her eyes locked to her chest and saw shallow movement.
“Damn it, girl,” she whispered.
She could not stop the tide of fear and anger that broke free from inside and flooded her brain. She stomped out of the dressing room and down the narrow stairs. Turning sharply, she pushed her way into the dancehall. Her steps were so fast, she might as well have been running. She heard Danny call out to her as she flew through the door, and did not allow herself to stop. Shocked by the bright light of the day, she flew down the boardwalk to the alley. She could hear tools and work clanging in the garage. Molly did not bother knocking and strode right in to see Sam bent over the engine bay and Jacob perched in the corner.
“What the literal fuck,” she shouted, pushing against Sam’s side. “What have you done now?”
Sam’s surprised face grew dark as he turned his attention onto her. “Not sure what you’re talking about, Molly.”
She shoved him again, nearly losing her balance in the process. “Your girl, Samuel. Your girl is up there fucking dying and you’re down here like it doesn’t fucking matter.”
She went to push him again, but Danny’s hands grabbed her around her middle and yanked her back. “No, love.”
“Let me go, Danny,” she seethed. “He needs some damn sense knocked in his skinny ass and it might as well be by me.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Sam’s sudden venom, a rare event, made everyone pause. His face was hard. His eyes were like cinders. “Why don’t you start from the damn beginning and fill me on the bill, Molly, instead of this shit.”
Her jaw set. “Susannah. She’s been hitting the damn laudanum for days.”
“So, it’s just a headache,” he said with an eye roll.
Molly let out a scoff. “It’s not a goddamn headache. It’s not a goddamn melancholy, either. I can’t get her to wake up, Samuel. She’s barely breathing and I can’t get her fucking wake up!”
Jacob cursed while Sam ran for the door. The elder brother said he’d fetch Doc as he booked it outside. Molly turned to follow, but Danny stood in her way.
“Can’t let you go, Mols,” he said quietly.
“Why the hell not?” she belted.
He held his large hands up, open to her, trying to calm her. “Because, baby, in the state you are in, you will hinder, not help.”
“What the fuck! Now you too?”
He rolled his lips into his mouth with a shake of his head. “Come on, Molly. If Susannah needs help, let Doc handle it. He doesn’t need any more bodies in that room than necessary.”
“That’s not it,” she said. Molly’s fury bubbled and toiled around her heart. Knowing it was her Daniel that stood in her way, she could not voice her full wrath. “You think my hindrance would be because I’ll tell the fucking truth?”
“I don’t know about hindrance. I do know that neither one of us needs to be up in that room right now. We need to get the hell away from here and just let them take care of it.”
“Doc is just going to pump her full of shit she doesn't need, Daniel.”
His tongue flicked out and crossed his lip. “I don’t want to fight about this, baby. There is no fight in me about it. I just want to get you home and wait. Can we do that? Sam will come for you when he needs you.”
It was like he took the stuffing right out of her. Molly felt her shoulders slump. Her stomach sloshed as the moment filled her. She watched as he moved towards her, gently folding her against him.
“I’m so scared for her,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“She’s in such a pit, Danny. She’s never been this far before.”
“I know, love.”
Molly felt it shove its way up from the bottom of her roots, up her legs, through her hips and core, twist through her middle and erupt through her chest, the kind of cry that was held for being alone. Danny held her tighter. He did not bother to shush or soothe. It was a pain that had been eating at her and being the lover he was, he let her have what she needed most.
Chapter Nine: Pt. 2, Cora POV
She could hear disruption down the hall towards the stairs for the dressing rooms above the dancehall. She peeked out after hearing Jacob’s voice, but could see nothing. Her attention was drawn away with a busy day on the drawer. She could not quite let the anxiousness go as the foot traffic up and down the stairs was considerably more than typical.
When Jacob came to fetch the cash box, his face was tired and it was obvious that something terrible had happened. He smiled quietly, but she could feel whatever it was rippling through his skin. She tried to prompt him, but he merely shook his head and led her to the Kissel. A mile out of town in what had become their spot to stop and talk, he slid out of the car and looked like he was going to be sick.
Cora reached for him but he skirted her. The move confused her. “Jacob, whatever happened, just tell me.”
“Susannah’s in a bad way,” he said. Rubbing his hands together, he seemed to be digesting his next words. “She’s taken too much laudanum and… She’s going to be sick for a while.”
Cora took in a sharp breath. “I know she has headaches-”
“It’s not headaches so much as it’s heartache, Cora,” he said quietly. “The others don’t get it. That’s not true - Molly understands, sort of. She’s struggling in a way that Sam can’t understand. I get it though. She’s having to do what her soul is telling her is wrong but she has to do it anyway. It’s a hard hole to dig yourself out of, is all.”
“Is she home? I can help if I am needed,” she offered.
“No. Doc’s put her into the hospital for a few days. And it’ll probably fall on Molly to sit with her.”
“I’ll talk with Molly. Perhaps I can stay a few days next week.”
Jacob smiled. “You’d do that for her?”
“Of course. She’s a friend.”
“I think she’d like to know that, Finch,” he said. He reached for her. “It’s going to be important for her to know how many people care about her in the next few weeks.”
Sunday had arrived and Cora was aiding her mother down from Kilbourne’s wagon. Matthew was stepping back when Georgie and Jon were clamoring down to catch up with Rosemary. She remained behind with her eldest brother, her hand on his arm.
“I need to stay in town a few nights this week. I have a friend who is in need,” she said as he started guiding her towards the church. “Can I count on you to help Mama out?”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “It’s not Mr. Jacob, is it?”
“No. It’s Miss Susannah, Mr. Samuel’s steady-company. She’s been ill and needs someone to be with her when she gets home,” she explained.
“Mama’s not going to like you staying in town so much,” he said.
“Well,” she remarked. “She will survive, right?”
Matthew grinned. “I’ll take care of her, Cora. Promise.”
“I plan on going visiting with Jacob after services. The Archer household is in the plan, so I’m hoping to see Junie,” she said, watching as Jacob walked towards them, his face washed in sunshine.
“Thank you for taking care of my girl, Mr. Matthew,” Jacob said with a smile. “Good morning.”
The boy smiled as he shook Jacob’s hand. “Good to see you, Mr. Jacob.”
Jacob had started to sit with her during services. Joshua did not seem to mind. As long as Jacob was doing his part in keeping up the appearances as it were. Georgie insisted that he sit between Cora and her beau. Jacob did not seem bothered by the boy, often hiking him up on his shoulder to rest so as to hold her hand on the seat of the bench.
As the pastor droned on about long summer days and the benefits of hard work, Jacob leaned in next to her, close to her ear. “Archer does not seem to be here today. Did you see him?” he asked softly.
Cora felt her brows pinch as she looked across the pews. Indeed the banker was not in attendance. She shook her head before he met his gaze. “Will we still go?”
He shrugged. “Up to Josh.”
She nodded as he gave her hand a little squeeze. The rest of the service was longer than normal. Or at least it seemed that way. Cora felt anxious. Her insides scrambled as her brain thought through words she wanted to say to her sister. She prayed that there was no harm. That Archer was just… off. Being married to someone nearly twenty years younger would be an odd situation. How would someone go about even conversing and truly connecting with someone so beyond their realm in youth?
Finally, services were convened. Jacob spoke with his twin only to return with a shake of his head. A grin spread across his face as the boys were running towards Kilbourne’s wagon.
“Mrs. Janas, how about a drive home today?” he asked.
Rosemary’s face pinched like she was thinking it through. “A drive?”
Cora let out a soft laugh. “Come on, Mama. The boys will love it.”
She watched as her mother debated. When she finally looked to Jacob, she nodded with a small grin. Cora felt her heart lurch. He held out his elbow to her mother and guided her forward towards the garage. Cora rounded up the boys who excitedly chased after Jacob with an exuberance that she had not seen before. She did not bother to wave at Kilbourne. The farmer was glaring at the scene with obvious malice.
She had looked over the register for the farm books and had a plan in place. In four weeks, if she kept two dollars back for their expenses, she would have the debt paid. She wondered if Kilbourne was aware of that fact. She wondered if the man would allow them to actually pay the debt off. He had held the note over their heads for so long that he had become reliant on their cheap, always available labor. Somehow, she tried to convince herself that they could just leave the farm behind, but watching her mother climb into the backseat of the Kissel, she worried her lip. Jacob watched as she walked towards them, concern on his own features.
“All well?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. “I think the boys would love to ride up front with you. To better see how you drive and all.”
He offered his hand in assistance, but gave her a squeeze of comfort along the way.
Chapter Nine: Pt. 3, Cora POV
Cora tapped on the door before walking inside Susannah’s home. She had been told she did not have to, but she did anyway so as not to startle the frail girl inside. She had thought she had known the meaning of the word ‘fragile’. Seeing her friend, however, in such a state had brought her to pause. Her pretty skin was gray and her eyes seemed so flat that Cora wondered if it was actually her friend Susannah that lay in her bed.
It had been two weeks since the incident. Cora and Molly had divided the time at night to stay in Susannah’s home. Surprisingly, Rosemary did not protest her staying in town for such a reason. She had hoped that Susannah would become strong quickly, but that was not the case. Cora was concerned that perhaps there was more they should be doing for her, but Susannah did finally start to walk around the home in short paces, finally gaining strength to sit up for an hour or two. It was going to be a long road for her, Cora was sure of that.
Jacob quietly followed her before diverting off to the kitchen with a large jar of soup he had made, and a fresh loaf of bread. Towards the back of the house, she could hear Samuel talking, his voice soft and full of care. She peeked in with a quiet wave. He waved back as he continued to read to her.
Finding a routine after she had gotten home had been fairly easy. Cora was sure part of it was due to her drive to show her mother the ease she could have by living in town. Her evenings she would read and sup with Susannah, while Molly would spend the mornings gossiping and playing cards. Samuel snuck in each chance he had available.
“Can we take a quick walk before supper? I have something I want to show you,” Jacob said.
She watched as he poured the soup into a pan and set it on the stovetop. The evenings, though still tinged warm with summer, were starting to whisper a cooler edge. The winds were beginning to shift from July to August like a warning of harsh weather yet to come.
They walked away from the bungalows to the small string of tidy houses with the trees along its lane. She held on to him as he moved, his face warm with an excitement he couldn’t quite hide.
“You look like a cat after a bird, Jacob,” she teased.
“I know these are not the same as the bungalows, but, this one just came open as a rental,” he said, stopping before the narrow home with cedar shutters and door. “I inquired with the owner and he’s asking $10 a week in the short term, or $38 every thirty days. I hope you don’t think I’m forward, but I knew this may be a better fit for you and your mother.”
She stared at the house, the cost of rent being calculated against her earnings. Jacob cleared his throat to capture her attention.
“The school house is just on the next block over. You see how close you are to Susannah and Molly, as well as the shop. It has two bedrooms upstairs and one on the main level. Sitting, dining, kitchen and bath on the main as well. It’s a wood stove, no furnace. At least not yet.”
“Only $38 a month?”
He nodded. Cora knew the little yellow house was $42 if it was available, which it wasn’t. Now that Kilbourne’s debt would be paid off in the coming days, she was leary of staying in the cottage. He had kept the cottage looped in on the debt, so technically, he could start charging them whatever he wanted in rent. Knowing the greedy farmer, it would not be worth the argument of staying.
“You don’t have to decide this moment,” he said, his hand coming to rest on her hip. “Well… That’s not true. The owner needs to get someone in there soon.”
“I’ll talk with Mother,” she said. She started picturing herself sitting on the little porch, listening to her brothers tromping all over the house.
“Do you like it?”
Cora smiled. “I do. It’s lovely.”
Returning to Susannah’s, Jacob and Samuel took their leave. She was sitting up in bed when Cora brought her a tray for them to eat at. Her skin still appeared sallow, but at least there was humor returning to her eyes. The evening was quiet. They played cards and talked about the house Jacob had shown her.
“I’m feeling tired, Cora,” Susannah said with her eyes drifting closed. “Can we not read tonight?”
“Of course,” she replied.
She quietly cleaned up the kitchen and put away laundry she had washed and hung the day before. Cora peeked in on Susannah, finding her sleeping soundly. Deciding to tuck herself in the sitting room with a book, she curled up with a nice look out the window and the soft glow of electric light of the town.
The evening had long since been overrun by the night and Cora was just setting her book to the side with a sleepy roll of her neck. Fetching a glass of water from the kitchen, she was just about to head to her room when there was a soft tap on the door. Through the slit of a window in the door, she saw that Jacob waited on the other side.
“Are you well?” she asked as she opened up to him.
He nodded. “I heard the song that we first danced to, and I’ve been thinking about you ever since. Made me want to see you.”
He slipped his arm around her and took the other hand in his own. Slowly he started guiding her around the small space in a close, musicless dance. Cora drew in a deep breath as he pulled her flush against his frame. She giggled as he brushed his mouth against her ear. His breath was hot against her skin as he placed a chaste kiss just below her earlobe before he spun her around. He hummed along, hitting each note just right to flood the memory into her mind of their first dance in the hall. This time, however, he held her with reckless hands and sly intent that she could only hope that he would play upon.
Cora laughed quietly as he tugged her around the furniture, his mouth grazing the plump of her cheek. She pressed her fingers into his jaw to turn his face to her. A soft crinkle pinched at the corner of his eye as if he dared her to her next step. He stopped humming the song the moment she pulled his lip in between her own in a warm kiss. He slid her hand up onto his shoulder before cupping her cheek to deepen their kiss, to wrap himself all the closer to her. He glanced down the little hall, his expression full of mischief as he resumed his hold on her.
He danced her into the tiny kitchen, stopping her with a slow gentle kiss. Somehow, her back met the edge of the cabinets. Their kiss deepened. Cora felt him lean into her, both hands wrapped tight across her hips. His mouth moved away from hers, leaving a trail of small, wet kisses down her jaw to the delicate skin of her neck and ear. She struggled for breath as his teeth grazed the ear lobe before sucking it in. Her body jittered at the sensations he planted within. He blew out a warm breath that prickled just beneath her flesh. Her mouth dropped open as he repeated the kiss against her neck and the connection of her shoulder.
“Jacob,” she whispered, voice ragged with desire. “I want you to touch me.”
“Where do you want me to touch?”
“I…” She gasped as he scraped his teeth against the crook of her neck. “I don’t…”
He blew out another soft breath across the fresh kissed flesh. “I want you to touch where your body wants,” he whispered, his lips dragging against the exposed skin of her throat.
His fingers ducked under the waist of her skirt, pulling up her blouse and starting in on the buttons until it drifted to the floor. His eyes followed the path of the material until landing on her chest. Gently, he threaded his fingers through hers, bringing their hands up together to smooth across the cotton slip that covered her soft center to the small swell of her breast. He pressed her palm beneath his own, rubbing across the perked nipple.
“Here?” he whispered, bringing his face up close to her own once more.
He maneuvered her fingers around until she was pinching at the areola. He bent once more, kissing at the exposed skin across her collar bones. The touch made her antsy, but only added fuel to the fire that she needed to extinguish. She bit into her lip with a slow shake of her head.
“I’m not sure,” she sighed.
He hummed as he tugged the fabric away to free the other tit. As he roughened the hold on the one, he sucked in the other. A hard hiss escaped her. It was like her skin was anxious and looking for escape as he dragged his tongue and teeth across the ultra sensitive skin. She tried to focus. Cora tried to discern if this was what her body was telling her.
“Not there,” she whined softly, much to both of their surprise.
“Put your hand where you need, baby,” he said, licking across her bottom lip before landing a deep kiss that focused the fire in her core.
The sound of the zipper on her skirt being lowered made her insides skitter. He captured one of her hands as he slid her skirt down over her hips, ending in a pool over her blouse. Her heart raced as he inched the cotton slip up, over her knickers, to come to a rest around her shoulders. Their mouths crashed together as he threaded their hands together once more and pressed into her lower abdomen. The feel of the fabric of his vest and shirt against her skin made her feel like she was kindling for whatever was to come next.
He hooked his thumb into her knickers and tugged them down until they caught on her garters. Her thighs trembled with need as he pushed their hands down over her pubic bone until her hand was cupping herself. He pushed her middle finger in between her folds.
“Touch your body, Cora,” he whispered against her mouth, his eyes opening enough to make contact.
She sighed deeply as his mouth made its way back down her throat, across her collar bones and finally lapping once more at her breasts. He brought up their hands together to once again rub through the soft curls of pubic hair, against the outer lips before pressing into her folds. He moved her fingers to collect the dampness they found, guiding her to rub the nub that sent jolts of pleasure through her each time it was brushed.
“Touch,” he cooed as he mesmerized her. “Rub. Caress. Press. Tug. Swirl… Your body already knows what it wants. Teach that brain what you need it to do.”
The timber of his voice excited her all the more as he glanced down at what she was doing. The softness of his features as he rose above her bade her to look down as well. The heat between them scorched her mind as he pressed his forehead to hers. Her bottom lip began to tremble. Urgency yanked at her insides as he began to kiss her deeply once more. Sounds she had never made before, never thought she would ever make, began to leak from her lips. It was like fire kissing at her skin as he brought his hand up to her cheek. He sucked at her lip as the need to buck her hips made him hum and stop once more to look.
“Press harder, baby,” he whispered, putting his gaze directly on her.
A gurgled sigh escaped her. Her brain froze in a fit of joy and her hand immediately stopped. He whispered something but she didn’t understand. His fingers were back to guide her along, setting everything inside into a frenzy she had never had experienced before. He placed tender kisses along her jaw as her mouth dropped open but no sound came out.
“That’s it, Cora,” he praised against her throat. “That’s what your body is seeking. Claim it.”
Her breaths came in waves as he slowed their hands against her. A nervous laugh bubbled out of her as her scrambled thoughts returned to a more organized manner. He bent against her, lifting her knickers back up to cover her.
“So beautiful,” he whispered as he crouched to retrieve her skirt, tossing her blouse over his arm.
With care, he slid the slip back down across her trembling frame before sliding the skirt back into place. She watched as he threaded her blouse back on, buttoning each button as he looked into her face with a soft smile. He placed chaste kisses to her mouth and eyes as he tucked her blouse back into the waistband of the skirt, completing his task.
A soft fog blurred her thoughts as he kissed her once more. A tiredness she had never felt before crept into her muscles and core. He seemed to sense it as he wrapped his arm around her once more, taking her hand, and finally pressing his cheek to hers to dance her back out to the sitting room.
Jacob sat down in the chair, pulling her down to sit on his lap. He turned her body to sling her legs over the arm so that she fell, cradled against him.
“What are you reading?” he asked, reaching for her book.
“I don’t think I-”
“Great Expectations, huh?” His voice was like velvet, heavy and warm and smooth. “One of my favorites.”
He opened to her mark and started to read. Cora fed on the vibration of his chest and pound of his heart. He slowly dragged his fingers across her knees, back and forth in a soothing rhythm. She was trying to rectify the satisfaction she felt within with the sin and brimstone of sermons she had heard over the years. How something so pure could be considered wrong confused her. Why something so full of care would be something to be ashamed of bothered her.
“Hey, Finch,” he whispered.
She roused, sure she had fallen into a deep sleep. Sitting up, she found her footing as he smoothed her blouse.
“I better go,” he said quietly, setting her book to the side.
She smiled as he brushed hair from her face. She realized as he touched her, she felt cared for, respected of course, but truly cared for by the man before her. She could only hope that she could convey the same sentiment. She certainly cared for every bit that made him Jacob.
“I’ll see you in the morning?” she asked, walking him to the door.
He nodded. Jacob threaded their fingers together and tugged her close. “Thank you for sharing tonight with me. It was the most beautiful gift.”
He kissed her cheek before leaving. Cora felt lighthearted as she locked the door behind him. She dressed for bed before peeking in on Susannah. She was surprised to find her awake. Entering the room, she settled down on the edge of the bed. It was obvious that her friend had been crying. Cora slipped her hand into Susannah’s in a touch she hoped would be reassuring.
“I thought you would still be sleeping,” Cora said quietly.
“Was that the first time Jacob has touched you?” she asked.
“Excuse me?” she asked, her voice squeaking in her surprise.
“It’s all well, Cora. I did not mean to hear, but there is really no privacy in this house.”
“Oh.” She blushed hard, thankful for the dimness of the room. “Yes. My first time ever.”
“Samuel was the first to touch me out of love,” she whispered. “But I think I was twelve when a man first touched me. It was nothing like what it can be with love.”
Cora squeezed her hand. “You were just a baby.”
“I was alone. Seems like I’ve been alone forever.”
Cora heard it in Susannah’s voice - the heartache that Jake talked about. “You’re not alone now.”
“Sometimes I feel more alone now than back then,” she said. “My mama got sick and Daddy put us in the orphanage to care for her. At least, then, I didn’t realize how alone I was. Now… I just can’t see forward at times. This was not how it was to be.”
Cora could feel the pain seep out of Susannah’s breath, giving it life in a way that broke upon her heart. “Perhaps we need to accept that our family may not be of our same blood, but they are family nonetheless. Know that I consider you my family, Susannah.”
Susannah smiled in the dark, but there was hesitance. “I wish I had not lost my innocence, Cora. To be able to see the world as you do would bring me such joy.”
She was unsure if the words were meant to reflect her own naivety, but Cora would not be swayed. “Sister, I know your hurt is deep. It’s not innocence that I see the world through. It’s hope. A drive to be living and not get caught up in the pettiness of what is, but see what could be and work hard to make it so.”
Susannah felt Cora’s hand drift across her arm in search of her hand, enclosing her fingers in a tight, reassuring hold. “And you see me as family?”
“Always.”
Chapter Nine: Pt. 4, Susannah POV
Shame. She felt it within her bones and skin, prickling and swirling like a blackened smoke that refused to retreat no matter who was in the room with her. Susannah could feel her strength returning to her, but the shame anchored her to remain within the shell she presently resided in - unworthy of those who wanted to hold her dear. Her mind bent to the jar of money that hid under her bed. There was enough to run away. Not far. Probably Minneapolis at best, but it would be far enough away that she could start again. No one would miss her after all. And if they did, so be it. She would not need to know if Samuel reacted to her absence, for she was sure there would be only minimal inconvenience.
The night was still as she pushed herself up on her pillow. Once Cora was asleep, she could easily slip out the door and be on her way. She heard the tap on the door and Jacob’s voice filled the void, distant but present. She could hear him humming a tune to his girl. Susannah could almost picture him dancing her around so that they could be close together. Their hushed voices grew more muffled and she knew they had moved into the kitchen. Standing, she slid the wardrobe door open and reached for the small satchel inside. She would only take what she would need - one of the nicer dresses that Molly had created for her, a few outfits, some of the personals that Sam had gifted to her. To travel light would mean speed.
She eased down onto the floor next to the bed, reaching for the jar she knew was there if she just… The first sound hit her ear. It was soft. Almost imperceivable. Her cheek landed on her arm. She knew that sound. Very well. A soft breath escaped her as her heart tightened. She missed her Sam. Missed his nearness. Missed his touch and passion.
Her fingers finally touched the smooth glass of the jar and she fumbled for it to drag it close. Her eyes danced across the stuffed bills inside totally close to a hundred dollars. Indeed, it would be enough to get away. It would be enough for a fresh start. She had done this many times before. Stayed in a place long enough to move on to the next stop. The soft whine that came from Cora made her pause once more. What she did not have to contend with in her last towns was love.
Chewing at her lip as the whine was repeated, she felt like her entire chest was going to cave in. It had been weeks since Sam had touched her, been able to lay with her. And yet, he whispered love to her each and every time he was with her. Perhaps what he felt was real. Perhaps his heart was true to her. The bass of Jacob’s voice scratched her brain. Something those boys seemed to have in common - they sure liked to talk to their lovers.
Susannah was folding the bills together to hide in her knickers in the satchel when she heard movement once again. Her mind paused, listening. Had Jacob pleasured her and not taken anything for himself? Her brows pinched. She heard him humming the same tune as before as they moved back to the sitting room. Susannah heard the sleepy voice of Cora followed by the cadence of Jacob reading to her. The words were familiar. She knew the story. Samuel had read it to her. Great Expectations. She had liked it so much that he reread it to her word for word after finishing it the first time. He took the time to show her what the words looked like that she thought were important. He wanted to teach her to read for herself, but she shied away, afraid he would grow disinterested in her if she revealed herself as stupid.
Looking down at the packed bag, she felt the silent tears on her face. She should run. She should run and not look back. He could never love her enough to be an acceptable partner such as Cora would be for Jacob. Sam would never be allowed to walk with her on his arm, feeling proud over his companion, such as the way that his brother could with her lovely friend. And yet…
She loved him. There was no simpler truth. She did not know how to leave him behind. Tucking her chin to her chest, she stifled a sob, burying it in her hands so as not to disturb the beautiful moment that Jacob was weaving for Cora in that sitting room. Perhaps if she stayed, her hidden time with her love would be enough until they could run away together.
The click of the lock in the front door surprised her. Susannah heard Cora moving back into the kitchen, followed by the washroom. Next, she knew the woman would check in on her. Setting the satchel in the wardrobe, she rushed and slid into the bed. She wiped at her eyes in an attempt to hide herself but decided that it would be a losing cause.
Within minutes, Cora’s silhouette appeared in the doorframe. Susannah had not planned to speak, but then when her friend sat with her. Called her family. Cora - for as pure and innocent as she was, considered her family. Susannah bit back calling herself a whore in her own mind. Calling herself many dark things all the while the untarnished woman that held her hand assured her that she was not alone.
She almost asked Cora to stay with her a while longer. Susannah knew that it would be selfish. Her friend had to work in the morning. She had asked so much from all of them already. She listened as the house grew still. Her eyes strained in the dark up to the ceiling. She did not believe in God. Why would someone like her do such a thing? God had abandoned her and her family and left her to the rot and filth of the world without so much as a glance or shred of mercy. But…
Family. Was that why she was running? Because for the first time, Susannah was faced with people she could choose to be her family, and that those same people wanted her, too? Wanted to call her family? Her breath came out in one long wave. The bag in the wardrobe could remain packed and at the ready.
Chapter Nine: Pt. 5, Molly POV
Her skin felt old and tired. With her feet up on the dressing table, Molly dared to close her eyes, albeit for only a few moments. Her time with Susannah was quiet and should have been restful. Fear touched her in a way she did not think she would ever feel. Looking at her friend, she felt bad for not wanting her time in bed to be done. At least while she was convalescing, there was no chance for Susannah to self harm.
“Will you do my hair today, sweetheart?” she asked, sitting up in the bed with her hairbrush in her hand. “I must look like I’ve been dragged backwards through the mud.”
“Sure,” Molly said. “You must be feeling pretty good, yeah?”
She nodded with a grin. It was honest and warm. Molly moved behind her on the bed, guiding her forwards to have room. She slowly brushed through the thick, black hair. Susannah was chirping right along about nothing important, but the tone of her voice was healthy and even held a note of happiness that made Molly want to weep. Without a thought, she wrapped her arms around her friend’s thin shoulders and held tight.
“Whoa there, mama, what’s this all about?” Susannah giggled.
“Don’t you ever fucking do that again. You hear me? You scared the shit out of me.” Molly felt her hands come up to hers and hold tight. “I mean it, Susannah.”
“I hear you, Mols. Love you, too.”
Molly released the breath that she had been holding for weeks. She kissed her friend’s shoulder before getting back to work on her hair.
“Wanna hear some hot gossip?” Susannah said with a brightness in her voice.
“Gossip? Girl, you’ve not left your house in…” Molly’s eyes widened. “No. Not little Miss Cora?”
Susannah nodded quickly and proceeded to tell all about the night prior and Jacob’s visit. Molly was fanning herself dramatically, eliciting a laugh. They cackled like hens and blushed like little girls as they teased and loved on about their newest friend.
“I guess you were right,” Susannah sighed, after Molly finished with her hair. “I guess there was no meddling needed. They are just lovely together, aren’t they?”
Molly howled. “Oh my goodness, the babies are going to be beautiful!”
Hi, again. I do hope that you enjoyed today’s chapter. Let me know what you think in the comments or reblog to share with others. I will be posting a second chapter this week - either Friday afternoon or Saturday morning. It just depends on when I can get Ch. 10 through one more edit.
If you’d like to join the tag list, you can find it here or just let me know. I have been having issues with a few of the tags - they are not linking so I'm not sure why, if it's spelling error, or a changed url or whatnot. So please, if you see this out and it's not tagged you though you're on my list, please make sure I've got it right below. Thanks!
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#greta van fleet#gvf#jake gvf#jake kiszka#josh kiszka#josh gvf#sammy gvf#sam gvf#daniel gvf#danny gvf#greta van fleet fanfic#greta van fleet fan fiction#greta van fleet fanfic au#greta van fleet au fic#greta van fleet x ocs#bootleggers and wildflowers
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Little Mouse Ch. 5
Warnings this fic will contain mature themes. Such as but not limited to teasing, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, very unhealthy relationships, some elements of non-con/rape, threesomes, drug use, breath play, voyeurism, branding, sex.
Summery: Rin starts making demands. And she is about to actually meet and talk with Shigaraki since her first run in with him.
Word count: 5669
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And so another day passed with the woman remaining hidden away in her temporary bedroom or should she just call it her new room? No she didn’t like the idea of thinking about this place being any sort of home for her. It's just a temporary bed and roof over her head. With leftovers in the fridge for Dabi to feed himself she remained hidden away as it seemed the bedroom was the only sanctuary she had from the man. As long as she hid away in the room not even a knock would bother her. At least Dabi was able to give her that courtesy to allow her the safety of the bedroom. But staying hidden day after day was going to drive the woman crazy. It left her time to think and those thoughts were not always good ones.
Did people notice she was missing? Were people looking for her? She hadn’t appeared on the news as a missing person. But then maybe there was an investigation ongoing and it was kept out of the media? She tried to remain hopeful. She never missed work so surely her boss had noticed her absence long ago already. Was there a chance that she was already labeled a traitor? Her thoughts continued to spiral down nearly out of control since she had nothing else to do. Force herself to her feet at some point in the late afternoon she started for the kitchen. She could at least busy herself with meal prep for supper and hope that would keep her distracted.
Her bare feet were nearly silent as she walked from the room to the kitchen. The only thing that gave her away was the click of the bedroom door as it opened for her to walk out. She didn’t expect Dabi to hear it over the noise of the TV and he didn’t. She slipped quietly into the kitchen trying to remain as quiet as she could. But that proved harder than she anticipated and her presence in the kitchen was quickly noticed. It didn’t take long before an all too familiar presence filled the kitchen as Dabi didn’t even try to hide himself as he strolled into the kitchen and leaned against a counter with those hard eyes watching her every movement.
How long could she pretend to not notice him? Ignoring him the best she could but it was hard. She refused to look over at him knowing the second she did her temper would flare and the two would surely get into a verbal argument, or at the very least she would curse him out. She felt too exhausted mentally and physically to deal with the annoying ass of a man. She had always prided herself on her calm and cool headedness. So why was it that this situation with this man brought out such an aggressive side of her? Why was it that it felt like the second he was in the same room as her she wanted to claw his eyes out and curse him out? She had never met someone who could just instantly piss her off without even having to open his damn mouth.
And he knew it too. The cocky bastard almost seemed to thrive off of the knowledge that he made her so mad so easily and so quickly. Maybe he was just salt being rubbed in a sore wound. Her situation was bad enough with being kidnapped by the League. But to add insult to injury she was dumped on the man who seemed liked the most sadistic ass in the group. Okay maybe he wasn’t the most sadistic, the look in that young girl's eyes. Even thinking about it still made Rin shiver. That girl had some serious nuts loose in her noggin.
Then again that seemed to be a recurring theme among the LOV? Though she didn’t know them enough to say for sure it seemed Dabi, the girl and twice all had some issues going on. It made her wonder how many of the other League villains also probably had mental problems? Was that what drove them to be killers? Being mentally unstable and not getting proper help and treatment? Some disorders were hereditary, someone born with a disorder would have surely been diagnosed long ago, hopefully. But it also wasn’t uncommon for other disorders to develop after trauma. Dabi was the one who crossed her mind at the thought of trauma. He wasn’t born with those scars, they were cussed, but what had happened to burn so much of his body and so badly? It most likely was the same event that led to his mental breakdown.
Now the more she thought about it the more curious she drew and finally she picked her eyes up from the stove looking over at the man who was still shirtless. Did he not own more than two shirts? No he surely did this to get to her knowing it irritated her. And it did, the man was attractive once you looked past the scars, piercings, and mental issues. And he knew it too, that cocky smirk sitting on his face told her he knew she enjoyed the view. The scars stretched over so much of his body. From one side around his back and visible again on the other side. How young had he been when he got them? The staples looked to be more cosmetic than medical but she still wasn’t sure. The skin was so damaged, surely his nerves were shot. So if she ran a finger over a patch of discolored skin he would never feel it.
Suddenly the thought of wanting to run her finger over his scarred skin had her blush softly. What the hell was with the need to want to touch him? A part of her was embarrassed over the thought, the other wanted to slap herself. She could not get personal, that meant no asking questions though he didn’t seem the type of person to answer questions even if she asked and tried to get to know him.
“Oi! The least you could do is not stair!” Was the bark that came from the man breaking the woman from the trance she had found herself in while so deep in thought.
“Sorry,” she muttered softly, blushing as she looked away after his outburst. She hadn’t meant to upset him with her staring. But she could see why it had upset him. She was sure people always stared at his scars that were easily visible like on his face.
“I just noticed those are some bad scars. How long have you had them?” She really should have known better than to ask such a personal question. Pain erupted in her scalp as her fist full of hair was reached back and up forcing her to drop the chopsticks she had in hand as she was cooking. Tears threatened to fill her eyes at the pain that shot through her as her now empty hands clawed at the wrist and hands that unforgivingly were trying to rip her hair out. What was with this man and trying to make her bold?
“I suggest you be more careful. You're in no position to be asking anyone questions. Now cook me some dinner and be a good wench,” the smell of smoked tobacco filled her nose as the lingering smell of a cigarette clinging to his breath as he leaned down a little to glare down at her. Was it that question in particular that upset him? Or the fact that she had asked anything even remotely personal that had upset him? It didn’t matter as it seemed that more carefree demeanor and smirk were gone. The look of a man that wanted to wrap his fingers around her neck and squeeze was glaring down at her threatening her to just give him a reason to snuff her light out.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped through the pain, struggling not to stutter in her attempt to get the two simple words out of her mouth loud enough for him to hear her. She could hear the growl rumble in his chest as he seemed to be contemplating what to do next.
Finally she could hear his tongue click off the back of his teeth before he let go of her hair as fast as he had grabbed it. Her knees buckled and her hands no longer had to grab for his wrists and moved to grab for the counter trying hard to not grab the stove and end up burning herself as her knees gave out sending them crashing to the floor as she tried to hold herself up. She was quick to recover though as she threw a glare over her shoulder at the man who was looking less than pleased with her as his hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. Fucking prick was the thought that crossed her mind but she kept it to herself as she forced herself to stand up. She was sure the look on her face when she glared at him gave away her thoughts and the names she proceeded to call him in her head.
With a tired sigh she knew it wasn’t worth picking a fight with him, he was just looking for an excuse to light her ass on fire she was sure. She needed to hold her tongue and not give him another reason to lash out at her so quickly. Even a quick glance was enough to send a shiver of fear through the woman. The look on his face was one that looked truly ready to kill her. No, she needed to turn her focus back to the food she was cooking before anything burned. It would also slightly help her to distract herself from the seething man beside her. And hopefully offering up a warm meal would work as a peace offering. Though it was irritating that she now felt the need to offer him a peace offering in order to hope that he would no longer be pissed at her, sure she asked about a rather personal question but he could have just not answered her or told her to never ask about them. He didn’t have to lash out at her so badly. Her scalp was still aching as she softly and delicately ran her fingers through her wincing softly at the tender spots along her scalp.
She started filling plates as she moved like a robot, not looking at him as she would fill each plate one at a time and walked the full plate to the table. She tried to move her plate and chair as far away as she could, eyeing him carefully as the two of them started to eat. It seemed her uneasiness was pleasing him as she watched him slowly grow back to his typical cocky self as his lips tugged up softly into that stupid smirk she hated. All she wanted to do was stuff her face and get away from him. His eyes were still hard and unforgiving. But that smirk was annoying. His eyes said he wanted to kill her. But the smirk said he wanted you with her. She imagined he wanted to do both. Sadistic, psychotic bastard probably did want to do both, toy with her a little before he killed her. She almost wished he would just kill her already.
She didn’t even care what she looked like as she ate as she stuffed food into her mouth before she stood up still not saying a word to the man as she carried her plates to the sink. This time she had no desire to stick around and wash them after what had happened that morning. All she wanted to do was make a run for the safety of her room.
But she never made it there as she tried to run from the kitchen only to have a hand tightly grab her left forearm. Panic washed over her as she stopped to look up at the dark haired man with wide bright green eyes. He had left his food half eaten at the table. Seemed he had no desire to let her run off so fast.
“Where do you think you're going?” He asked in a low growl. Her mouth felt dry as she panicked on if she should start to struggle or just try to fight him. No, she already knew trying to physically fight him would not end well for her. He was too strong, and if she attacked him surely he would see that as free game to kill her and claim she tried to escape and attack him or something along those lines.
“Uhh my room,” she said softly as she watched him arch an eyebrow at her when she didn’t answer him right away and told her that he actually was waiting and expecting an answer to his question.
“Oh come now it’s rude to rush off while someone is still eating,” he said, surprising her that the man actually knew about common manners. Did that mean the man actually grew up with some decent people? She wasn’t about to ask him anything, leaving her with her questions about the man.
“It’s also rude to attack your guests,” she hissed. Though she regretted the words as quickly as she said them. But now he doesn't seem angry at her any more. No he almost looked amused now as he watched her hiss at him.
“And what are you going to do about it?” He asked in a low tone as he leaned in towards her. She tried to lean back away from him desperate to put even a little distance between the two. But it was a good question. What was she going to do about it? She clearly couldn’t do anything and he knew it and was rubbing it in her face as well. He just had to add salt to her open wounds.
She felt her top lip pull back curling up over her teeth giving the man a feral animal like snarl. She never wanted to hit someone so badly as she did this moment. She wanted to rip that smug, cocky look off of his face and shove it up his ass.
“Oh scary, what are you gonna do? try and bite me?” He asked that cocky smirk only growing wider as he seemed far too happy with himself as he watched her struggle to remain calm.
“Maybe I will,” she growled at him before feeling a blush spread over her cheeks at the realization he had probably meant the the teasing words in some sexual manner while she had mean it seriously as she contemplated biting the hand that held her in place and prevented her from being able to run to the safety of her room.
Her reply and reaction seemed to please him in some way as he gave out a good chuckle as his eyes almost looked playful as he watched her still glaring up at him even though her cheeks were a nice red shade.
“Oh that sounds like some brave words for a little frightened mouse,” he mused far to entertain with teasing and irritating the woman.
“I am not a fucking mouse! Stop calling me that,” she hissed at him, her anger getting the best of her as she found herself now refusing to back down as she straightened her shoulders completely standing as tall as her short stature would let her as she glared up at the amused ass of a man. She tried to get into his face showing off how irritated she was as with him.
Dabi on the other hand seemed to be enjoying watching her become angry and pissed off with him. His grip on her arm tightened, most likely she would have a number of bruises on the arm by the time he let go at this rate. He watched her winch softly but it was not enough to force her to back down.
“I’ll call you whatever I want, I can do whatever I want,” he hissed softly just as easily meeting her hard gaze and leaning in towards her as neither person seemed willing to back down. She knew he could do as he pleased and she couldn’t stop him, that included the stupidly annoying nickname. But that once again didn’t stop the snarl she gave him, unable to say anything else.
The animalistic sound coming from the woman just seemed to make Dabi all the more happier. Knowing he could get her so pissed off she couldn’t think rationally, that she turned into a glaring, snarling animal before him. It made the man wonder if the woman would turn just as feral during sex it she was pissed off? He always did enjoy some good rough angry sex.
Feeling the need to know the answer to his question he didn’t even hesitate to swiftly crash his lips against hers. The shock evident all over her face as those light emerald eyes grew to the size of saucer plates, her breathing almost seemed to stop and her body went rigid. After a few seconds of her still frozen in shock he leaned back. His face lit up with joy at the complete shock that was on her face.
The reaction that followed the kiss didn’t feel like it was hers. Her hand stung and burned and the sound that filled the empty house seemed to echo. Hell she almost wondered if the neighbours had heard the sound of her hand colliding with his cheek? Her one finger burned, having ripped it open a little when she slapped him and caught her finger on one of the staples in his face. Her eyes barely noticed the slight red line that ran down from one of the staples as her slap had ripped the good skin around the staple. He seemed unfazed by the pain or tear of his skin and the loose staple. It seemed she had softly ripped one of the staples but she was too busy watching his reaction to pay it or the bit of blood too much attention. For a split second he looked utterly surprised that she had dared to hit him. But that look didn’t last for even a full second before his lips pulled tight and his eyes became hard, he was clearly not impressed with her choice of actions. She tried to take a step back from him but she didn’t get far before her back hit a wall in the kitchen. And with each step she took back he took one forward till she finally hit the wall. Panic washed over her as her pale green eyes looked up at him with panic. He had her pinned between himself and the wall before she could even try to run or push him away.
His right hand shot out to wrap around her neck. His long fingers squeezing as he glared down at her. Her hands shot up to grab at his wrist. Though her air had been restricted he had not completely cut it off as she gasped for what little air she could force into her lunges.
“I’m sorry,” was the gargled apology that she was able to force out of her throat as she looked up at him with wide eyes. He wasn’t allowed to kill her and it was probably the only thing that kept him from completely cutting off her air. She watched as he seemed unfazed by her attempt at an apology. This made her angry as she dug her nails into the skin or his wrist.
“Fuck you. You think you can just have whatever you want,” she growled at him as her eyes became hard as she refused to look away from him. Of course she was right, he always just did whatever he wanted without a care in the world. He didn’t care if he hurt other people, if it made him happy he would just do what he pleased.
“And what? You think you can stop me?” He growled leaning right into her face as she glared back at him. His hands itched to squeeze her throat tighter wanting to watch the panic set in when she could no longer breath at all. Instead he settled for letting the palm of his hand start to radiant a little heat. This should put a little fear into the woman without risking him completely killing her. He watched her face, his scowl only growing deeper when he did not get the reaction he wanted.
She could feel the hand start to heat up. It was slow but the heat continued till it started to burn. But she refused to wince or yield to Dabi. That’s what he wanted; she knew it. And so she would refuse to give him what he wanted till the pain completely became too much. She was sure the skin was already starting to blister. Finally she winced as she bit back the whine that bubbled in her throat. Finally the scowl on Dabi’s face changed to a wide crazed grin. This was what he wanted right away but she refused to just give in forcing herself to go through more pain till she couldn’t take it any more. She couldn’t even bring herself to try and force herself to answer him as she worried if she opened her mouth she would likely cry out in pain.
“See, you can not stop me. Why don’t you just be a good little mouse?” He asked, grinning widely down at her as he watched her blink back tears as he turned off the heat from his quirk.
“Fuck you!” Was the simple growl she gave him though even getting those two words out of her lips was a struggle. It hurt, her neck continued to burn even after his quirk was shut off. The feeling of his fingers still tightly squeezing her next continued to force pain through her body.
A part of Dabi loved this spirit she had and her lack of proper fear of him. But that made him want to break that spirit, he wanted to see what that pretty face of hers would look like with pure genuine fear on it. But he knew he couldn’t do that, in order to break her the way he wanted to would require killing her. And Shigaraki had made it very clear that no one was allowed to kill the girl. Especially not Dabi. But still she was a medic, and was supposed to be able to use some mild healing type of powers so Dabi wasn’t scared to leave a few marks on the woman.
He was bored all day long, he couldn’t go out and do whatever he wanted any more. No running around robbing places, burning people up and just having some good old fun as he pleased. Being stuck in his home all day and night was making him bored and this woman was his newest plaything as he decided to use her as his own personal entertainment.
“Mmm I’d be happy to have a little pet,” Dabi purred, finding the growl from her entertaining. The look of disgust that crossed her face at his words was enough to make him start laughing. He could just hear her words of protest that that wasn’t what she meant. But she seemed to struggle to find the ability to say those words. But her face gave away how unhappy she was with the idea of fucking him. Instead Rin settled for an animistic growl to go with the look of disgust on her face.
Her growl only made him laugh more as he loved to see her turning into a feral animal before him. It just thrilled him to see her struggle to come up with the right words to be able to describe her hatred, anger or disgust with him. He always loved to see just how far could he push her? And for how long would she push back? He wondered when would she give in? When would she stop fighting him? How long would it take to break that strong will and spirit? Those thoughts just thrilled the man bringing a wide manic grin to his face every time he thought of those questions.
“You should remember your place. You're nothing but a replaceable toy. There is very little holding me back from killing you. I’d suggest you be more careful with your actions!” Dabi growled once he stopped laughing and leaned right into her face. The smell of cigarette smoke clung to his breath that glanced across her face from how close he was to her face as he tried to intimidate her.
A mix of emotions washed over her as she knew he wasn’t lying. Killing her would piss off Shigaraki but that would be it, the league could replace her easily. But her pride refused to allow her to show that fear to Dabi knowing he would love it. Instead she simply chose to stick her bottom lip between her teeth biting down hard to keep herself from cursing at the man some more as she looked up at him still meeting his gaze refusing to back down. And yet that had the man grin before he finally ripped his hand away from her neck letting go of her.
“But do remain so much fun my little mouse,” he said before turning and making his way towards the living room. The man was like a yo-yo one minute he was calm and civil the next he seemed to snap and he was nearly a feral manic. The whip lash she was getting was painful. Was he a dirty flirt? Was he an okay guy? Was he a complete lunatic that just wanted to light her ass on fire? Then again he nearly did light her on fire this time.
Finally standing among the kitchen alone she slowly raised a shaking hand up to her neck, nearly whimpering at the pain that erupted from the simplest of touches on the blistering skin. Forcing her feet to move she nearly ran from the kitchen towards the bathroom. The man surely had to have some sort of medication for burns, a lotion or ointment of some sort. Walking into the bathroom she froze at the sight beside her in the mirror.
Her eyes were wide and her breathing still a bit quick, her bottom lip swollen and sore as she had bitten so hard she had broken the skin and hadn’t even noticed. But what had truly caught her attention was the sight of the angry red hand mark that went nearly all the way around her delicate neck. The skin was blistering in spots and ugly looking. The pain was numb at first but as she moved the air even seemed to burn her sensitive skin. She didn’t even feel bad as she started to rummage through the drawers in the bathroom looking for something. The pyro had to have something. Painkillers, creams, something! And yet as she looked through the drawers she didn’t find anything that she was looking for. The man had to end up being burned by his own quirk to some extent, and her no cream? No pain killers? Actually now that she thought it over for a second the man most likely used illegal substances for his pain management. It wasn’t like he could walk into a hospital and see a doctor. That was why they kidnapped her with her basic medical knowledge and minor medical usages for her quirk.
She sighed as she turned her attention back to her image in the mirror taking the time to inspect her burn a little more carefully. She had never healed a burn before and it would be a tricky thing to heal. She needed to figure out how deep the burn was. The pain was a good sign, it didn’t damage nerves. It was most likely at least a second degree as she didn’t think it was a third degree burn. Which meant she would need to repair the cells in her epidermis and dermis cells. With her right hand raised up to her neck she placed her fingers as close to the burn as she could before she started to focus on the delicate work of repairing her dermis layer of skin.
It was delicate work, and working on her own body was always taxing. But she needed to work on the deepest damage slowly working her way up and towards her epidermis layer. By the time she opened her eyes panting softly she could see the burn looked a little less angry, the blistering almost gone. But now a sweat licked her forehead as the pain was still there but a little more manageable now as well. Not much different than when she would burn her hand on the stove. Tomorrow she could heal the rest but for now she was feeling exhausted both mentally and physically.
With that she slowly walked out of bathroom but now a new fire flickered in her as she found herself storming down the hall and into the living room to find Dabi sitting on the couch a smoke between his fingers his eyes flickering over to look at her before a grin broke out over his face at the sight of the still red hand mark on hay littered her neck. It was Dabi’s mark he left on her and although he was sure she healed it up, the sweat that licked her skin told him she had been using her quirk.
“Oh what’s the matter? couldn’t heal up a little burn?” Dabi asked his voice, taunting the woman as he could see the anger on her face.
“I want to talk to Shigaraki!” She growled at him completely ignoring his taunting comment. Instead her demand actually seemed to surprise him as she watched him arch an eyebrow at her.
“Why the hell do you want to talk with Shigaraki?” He asked a slight growl to his voice as he didn’t seem to exactly like her demand.
“That’s none of your business what I want to discuss with him,” she growled back as she watched him frown at her seemingly not pleased with demand.
“Awe you gonna go crying to the crusty man crying that I’m mean?” He asked once again his voice taking on a taunting tone but his frown gave away his unhappiness.
“Not at all. But if I’m going to be working for the League of Villain's then I need to talk business with him. Or whoever is in charge,” she said simply though yes she did also want to bitch about Dabi and his treatment of her. But she wasn’t going to admit that.
“Fine I’ll try and contact him but don’t expect the man child to agree to talk to you,” Dabi said with a chuckle, fully expecting that Shigaraki would shoot down her request to talk with him. That was all she needed to hear. Without even a thank you she turned in her heels and stormed to her bedroom. If Dabi was going to keep his word then she wouldn’t completely heal the burn, she wanted it as proof of what Dabi was doing to her. She wasn’t sure if it would help but it was worth a try.
With that Dabi watched as she turned and made her way for the bedroom she would hide away from. He could keep his word and reach out to the man but he didn’t expect the man child to agree. Shigaraki didn’t usually like it when people tried to make demands of him so surely the man would not agree to see the girl. With her hidden away in her room Dabi pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket punching in a number he had come to memorize before raising the phone to his ear. The sound of the raspy voice asking him what he wanted was his greeting.
“Your little princess is demanding to talk with you Shigaraki,” Dabi said, simply getting straight to the point. The pause in a reply surprised him as it was unlike the crusty man to not just burst out in a no and hang up. Instead he could hear the man scratching at his neck in the silence before he finally spoke up.
“Bring her to the bar tomorrow afternoon,” was the time Shigaraki gave before he hung up on Dabi, not going to give the man a chance to ask any questions. Dabi was forced to frown down at his phone in his hand. What was it that Shigaraki saw in the woman? Why was the man willing to meet with her? It just confused Dabi to see the man child acting in such an odd way.
With that Dabi turned his attention to his cigarette that sat in the ashtray on his coffee table before he reached out to pick it up bringing the end up to his lips and taking a drag allowing the nicotine filled smoke to fill his lunges before he slowly let out the lunge full of smoke into the air before him. What is it about this woman? Why did Shigaraki care about her? Why her?
Dabi’s mind was just filled with questions and he did not like that as he sat back deep into the couch trying to sooth his irritation with the cigarette between his fingers but it did little to help the more he thought about the woman. He doubted Shigaraki would tell him anything if he asked but still, it seemed the woman wasn’t the only one who was curious and had questions for the crusty man.
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Something There - Akaza x Fem! Reader Chapter 1: Something There
Author's note: So, I'm trying this for the first time, please bear with me for any mistakes, but PLEASE read the warnings and tags before reading as this fic d o e s touch on very mature and sensitive topics in mental health ;w; My purpose in writing this series is to tell a story as well as to give readers a relatable, realistic experience with bad mental health struggles along with a loving message in regards to that, so please be sure you're doing alright enough to proceed ;w; <3 I've never shared any of my fanfics on Tumblr before nor am I super apt at using this platform, so I'm not sure how this will turn out, but I thought maybe I should give it a try ;u; I hope you guys like the first chapter to my Akaza fic! ;w; <3
If you'd like to continue onto the next chapters available so far, you can find the rest of my fic cross-posted on AO3, FFN, Wattpad and Quotev! Links are down below! c: <3
Synopsis:
Loneliness and guilt can lead people down a painful spiral of darkness which is often times difficult to crawl out of. It can be suffocating to the point of which your thoughts are no longer your own. At least, they're not what you would recall them to be now that the person you once were is gone. Mourning and grievances can escalate and deepen the slope of self-destruction and self-loathing, pushing you further into an abyss of quicksand your fingers can't claw into no matter how hard you try to pull yourself out to make things right.
No matter what _______ did to reconcile for her mistakes, nothing ever made the emptiness and hurt within her go away. Life lost its meaning, and with it, the Slayer's will to continue had faded as well.
She had become so desperate, she convinced herself a demon of the twelve Kizuki was her only solution to make the torment end; to pull her from the quicksand and let her slip in a senseless dream.
To most, it would have been crazy, but to her? It was the last chance she had to make things right and to pay for the sins she could never undo.
Funny how a demon was the answer to prayers like that.
Rating: M for Mature.
Warnings:
THE FOLLOWING FIC CONTAINS THOROUGH DIALOGUE ABOUT SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND TENDENCIES ALONG WITH DIALOGUE OF SELF-LOATHING. IF YOU'RE IN A DARK OR VULNERABLE PLACE RIGHT NOW, PLEASE DON'T CONTINUE PASSED THIS POINT.
This fic also contains depictions of violence and gore. Don't know to what extent I should label it, so I'll just say that it's definitely in there (not that it would really stand out in a series like Demon Slayer).
The fic also goes into details about the Mugen Train arc so, spoilers ahead. It also slightly hints to stuff about Akaza's background - not in tons of detail, but there's hints.
CHAPTER TWO
Word count: 9,671
Cross-posts: AO3, FFN, Wattpad and Quotev (I am most active on AO3! <3)
Chapter 1: Something There
There was a light breeze this evening, blowing with the lovely scent of not-so-distant blooming wild flowers. The sky was cloudless, unobstructed and ornamented with an endless array of dazzling stars which freely blinked with detached innocence amongst their vast, endless world of obsidian depths. The moon – large and full – rested right in the middle of the spectacle, shinning its soft, ethereal light onto the earth’s plane of existence like a blanketed gift from Heaven. Underneath its brilliant light was an open plain of grass, long and feather-like with the blades which fluttered and danced hand-in-hand with the wind whom swept them from their rooted dance floor. All the while, from a distance, an audience of ancient cedar watched, their leaves restlessly enthused to join and encourage the ballet from where they stood so admiringly.
In all respects, the setting was awe-inspiring. A place most people would envision when thinking of a landscape bathed in peace and serenity. A place one could run away to so as to fall amongst the swaying blades, to roll along with them in their reality and giggle out joyous fantasies with the nearby cedar in a private, heavenly world of their own. A place where one could lay back, arms splayed, eyes to the sky, dreaming of an exciting, blissful (maybe even euphoric) future.
It should be a place drizzled in otherworldly wonder.
It should be a place of refuge.
A place people can go to by choice for a night of delight and mindful wondering – but there on the ground, viewing it all from a perspective so polar opposite from the view from Heaven, the scene came off in a completely different light.
The grass was coarsely grabby, edged with sticky little weeds which clung at her clothing as she dragged her feet across the hardened soil. Her body screamed cries of overexertion, protesting wildly and cacophonously against its owner, begging for a rest like the one the stars and moon dreamed of, but she knew she was beyond that point of grace.
The soft, white glow from the seemingly engorged moon only served to illuminate her path. It was leading her towards a destination every sane thought in her head told her to run away from, but the stronger voice in her edged her to strive for even beyond the painful exhaustion she felt seeping into her very bones.
The stars may as well not even be there. To her, they certainly weren’t. She never bothered acknowledging them when she stepped onto the plain. She knew they were there, by logic, but to see and actively acknowledge them would be a cruel reminder of the beauty of life that was so fleeting.
The sweeping wind reminded her of that sense of inescapable mourning for something that was lost long ago, the way it pushed through the spaces between her fingers even as she let them hang loosely by her sides, mocking her weakness and fragility. It reminded her of the things and moments she allowed to slip through those very gaps time and time again before this very moment in time within that desolate field.
The audience of cedar, much closer now than they had been before, swayed in precarious gestures, almost as if whispering amongst themselves before – suddenly – waving at her with urgency as a warning not to enter the land they shielded her from.
She, however, paid no mind to the warnings they attempted to heed her. Her eyes, though vacant and void of emotion, simply stared forward beyond the gaps in between their thick, barky bodies into the inky black deep within the land of densely packed cedar. The only time she listened to her aching body to stop for a moment was when she reached the edge of the forest.
Her right hand weakly pressed against the bark of the nearest tree, rough against her palm. Her body greedily leeched off of the support the chivalrous cedar provided by collapsing against it a mere second or two afterwards. She whimpered pathetically as her battered side collided with the rough bark, her breaths coming out heavier for a moment while she tried with the miniscule amount of willpower left in her to compose herself.
Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.
Her teeth gritted painfully, her eyes shut tight, but she focused her breathing. She focused effectively, just as she had been taught and trained to, successfully alleviating some of the pain which screamed from deep within her core. When the world around her began to make more sense to her sightless senses beyond that of the pounding in her ears is when she allowed herself to gaze into the darkness once more.
Likewise, it was then that she had picked up on the pungent scent of blood creeping into her reality like invisible tendrils of poisonous vines come to destroy the idea of anything like a flower in a world like hers.
Flowers.
HA!
What a silly idea for something like that to exist in a moment like this.
Still, she was undeterred by the iron-noted scent. She had grown eerily accustomed to it over the course of time she had dedicated within her uniform. It was simply a sign of a cruel world; a reminder of how temporary everything was.
She was well aware the scent typically spelled out ‘danger’ and a definite threat within the near vicinity, and for a person like her who was so worn and tattered, it urged for her to turn back to run almost in an audible whisper.
Was it the cedar talking in the blood’s behalf? The chitter-chatter of their leaves fluttering deterrently, begging for her to reconsider?
Blatantly, she ignored.
She pushed herself off of the tree she leaned against and forced her body to continue forward. Quickly, as she slipped beneath the thick canopy of the forest, the moon and stars ceased to exist. Though she hadn’t actively acknowledged them when passing through the field, their absence was prevalently notable as soon as the branches of cedar roofed her within their mysterious home. The world around her grew as dark as the one thriving in her head, teeming with a life she was unaware of and instinctually afraid of.
Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.
The fear was quickly swallowed up by the inky sensation of disassociation. It had only served to exist a few moments in the back of her head, wondering aloud what she might run into on the way to the finish line she had drawn for herself, but it just as quickly fell to a numbing silence. Her head filled with fog and quiet, aiding in the subsiding of the gooseflesh which had momentarily sprouted along the length of her arms.
There was nothing to be afraid of. She had planned this shortly after she found out about what dwelled in this area. For a long time, she had been dreaming of a way out of the nightmare that is her daily life she could not escape from, and just like that, as destined by fate, the solution had fallen onto her lap through speculating whispers and murmurs from people in the nearby village about the things which sometimes dwelled in the cedar forest. It had been a hunch, a possibility with an equal possibility of it being something else entirely which the villagers spoke of, but something inside of the young woman told her this was definitely what she had been hoping for since everything had first started going downhill.
As she dragged her feet and trudged deeper and deeper into the abyssal world she walked through like a stranger in a town she didn’t belong in, she picked up on the sounds of creatures moving in the dark. Creatures she didn’t come here to see today. She could sense their presences in her flesh and bone, humming and vibrating with their being to force her awareness on them. She, however, chose to force her awareness of them into silence.
No, she didn’t come here for just any demon.
She came here tonight for a very specific one.
One she knew was stronger than any other she had ever faced or heard of thus far.
The one that would be the perfect and quick solution to her problem.
I could just stop walking, she thought as she dragged the top of her foot along the dirt beneath her to force it in front of her for another agonized step forward. It hurts to walk, anyway. I could just stop here, let any of the ones following me right now do away with me. End the nightmares already…She shook her head, forcing her steps to gain a bit of haste, though she made no move for her Nichirin sword sheathed at her side – her only true form of defense in the midst of an infestation like the one she ventured into. No. The weaker ones are cheekier than all hell. They like to play with their prey and food. They’ll make it worse for me than it needs to be. No, I’ll get to him and have him do it fast. I’m fairly certain he does it for sport, and with a demon as ridiculously strong as him, I probably wouldn’t even feel it when it happens. If the worst happens and the rumors are wrong…well…the others still remain an inescapable option at this point. One way or another, I’ll be able to pay for my weaknesses. I’ll make it up to them all. The nightmares will end and I’ll slip away like I should’ve so long ago.
The thought caused her brow to furrow as the sorrowful emotion she seemed tied to the hip with washed over her. It felt suffocating, like she had been forced down a waterfall and the harsh waves just kept battering onto her over and over, leaving her sore in every possible way. Before everything got as bad as it had, when everything was still so fresh and explicit in her mind, the feeling would’ve caused tears to surface in her eyes. She would’ve collapsed and bawled, a soul-raking kind of cry that shook her to her very spirit, rattling the human frame caged within her skin. A mournful sound and act of hopelessness to help her cope and allow her body to wash out the pain that was so endless and vast.
Not this time, though.
She hadn’t cried like that in a very long time.
The last time she had shed those kinds of heartbreaking tears was when her best friends had died on the field, a small group sent out to protect the very village she trekked from right now. There were demons terrorizing the villagers for weeks, people going missing in the forest leaving nothing behind but their screams in the night. Her squad arrived, eager and confident in their abilities to aid the people they had been sent to save…Yet, in the end, the ones who needed saving were them.
She could remember it as though it had happened just yesterday. The blood of her friends slowly dripping from her hands as she had desperately tried to stem their bleeding when the demon had coward off because of the rising sun. She could remember how loud she had cried for help to the point that her throat felt bloody and raw, how desperately she had begged with her friends not to die on her. Not to leave her. Not to let her weak and feeble attempt at protecting them and the villagers be the reason they were going.
Not to let them jumping in to save her be the reason they died in her arms.
Unfortunately, it was a request neither of them could fulfill for her.
By the time help arrived, they were gone. Nothing left but corpses in her arms staring blankly towards dawn.
She cried harder than she ever had that day. The only people she had ever considered family – the only people she had close to her left in a world so bleak – had been ripped away from her when they came to her aid; all because she couldn’t defend herself.
All because she allowed herself to believe she had the upper hand.
All because she allowed herself to get cocky.
All because she left her blindside wide open.
PATHETIC, PATHETIC, PATHETIC! You don’t deserve to be alive! It should’ve been YOU who died that day, not THEM!
Her head lulled from side to side as the harsh thought rang in her mind, reminding her time and time again that she wasn’t worthy of their sacrifice; that they had bestowed a value on her insignificant life she had no clue what she did to earn.
“I know…” She sucked in a harsh breath, her eyes fluttering for a moment from the pain radiating in her with each step she took. The recent fight to defend the village from demons had left her body a tattered and bruised mess beneath her uniform, barely able to do anything without nearly collapsing every few minutes. It had been going nonstop for many nights now, these harsh, numerous battles. Battles she felt tied to finish in memory of the ones she lost during the original mission. A sort of reconciliation she was aware would never amount to wash away the sins she’s committed towards the ones who loved her most, but the beating her body received every night…it felt well-earned.
“I know…” She repeated, her lip quivering as the shaken breath left her. “I-I know I don’t…”
The forest around her began to giggle and chuckle through the dark. Cheeky, mischievous whispers floated from cedar to cedar as the sensation of a million pairs of eyes staring her back down crept through her veins. By instinct, her senses had heightened again, becoming more and more aware of the things following her and gossiping about her, laughing about how easy it would be to rush in and end her right there, but deciding to play around with their food to prolong the inevitable through a torturous mind game.
I’m not scared to die. I haven’t been for a long time. I’m not afraid. None of this scares me. They can’t do anything to me I haven’t felt already in a million different ways. I. Am not. Afraid.
The laughter in the woods grew louder, almost as though they had peeked into her mind and read her thoughts. Mocking her. Gossiping about the reality she tried to hide behind her lies.
She tried her best to ignore the gossip. Her nails dug into bark as her hands pressed and pushed her feebly from tree to tree, each one she passed by close enough aiding on her course of self-destruction despite their previous warnings. The grass and weeds around her feet clung to her clothing just as they had done on the open plain, tugging at her harder and with more persistence the deeper into the void she propelled herself. Her dragging feet pulled away from them each and every time, deadest on reaching the end of what the woods attempted to protect her from.
Nothing could deter her from her quest, and the only thing which caused her pause and hesitation in her trek so deep within the darkness was the sound of a collapsing cedar a short distance away.
The timber was dissonant and jarringly crackling like booming thunder. When the massive cedar collided with the ground, the entire forest appeared to shake and tremble in protest of its fallen extremity. The living cedars chittered and waved in anxious, shrill cries before the world around her plummeted into deafening silence. Even the laughter and gossip had ceased from the demons she knew remained close by. She was sure they had been toying with her, but from the sound of the collapsing cedar, it appeared she had found what she sought, and the affirmation of his existence deep within the desolate forest forced them into fearfully respectful silence.
She stared ahead, leaning against a tree once more, watching intently through her vacant gaze for further movement. Her panted breath was all she could hear for a few moments, and her heart had plummeted into the abyss of her stomach when a thought crossed her mind.
Maybe it was just a random tree that was about to fall. Maybe nothing really caused it to fall other than an old injury to its bark. Maybe the rumors are just that: rumors. Maybe I’m stuck with my terrible plan B after all.
The thunderous sound of yet another falling cedar, however, told her she was wrong. The quick succession didn’t sound natural, nor did the way the woods reverberated with the collapse. There was something else there, something else that caused a third tree to quickly fall right afterwards as well.
Her heart jumped to her throat with anxious hope that the rumors were true after all. The silence around her from the demons whom followed her up to this point also inclined her to believe it to be so.
It has to be him. She pushed herself off of the tree she rested against, quickening her steps towards the trembling trees and earth-shattering commotion ahead. Please let it be him. Please don’t be another lesser demon. Please don’t play with my emotions like this. Not now. Not again.
Her breaths puffed out faster now, shaken with the effort from her quaking, hobbling form. She could barely keep going. If this wasn’t him, whoever it was would have to do away with her, because her body couldn’t carry her much further. No one would miss me, anyway. The village would be better off with a different Slayer there to defend them. I’m useless to them. I’ve been able to keep the demons at bay thus far, but I can’t anymore. They’ll be fine until they send someone else tomorrow. I would be a hindrance if I had stayed behind. At least with me being here, the demons can entertain themselves watching me with him instead – or coming after me themselves if it really isn’t him. GOD, please let it be him.
Unsettled by her desperate thoughts, she shook her head as firmly as she could before forcing herself to focus once more so she may sense the beings in her surroundings. As soon as she did, the vibrations in her bones shook her like an earthquake, nearly toppling the already beaten woman onto the forest floor like the falling cedar ahead. She reached out, clawing her nails deeply into a nearby tree one more time, her arms hugging tightly around it as her knees buckled beneath her. She whimpered with struggle, trying with all her might to stay on her feet against the mighty cedar, but through it all, her eyes had stayed fixated on the area the fallen trees were plummeting from. The strength of the demon ahead was…terrifying. She knew he had to be, considering he was of the higher ranks of Muzan’s twelve Kizuki, but that it felt like this without any kind of confrontation? For a second, it caused the thought of reconsideration to cross the woman’s mind as freezing fear raced through her being to solidify her in place. Her eyes were widened despite their vacant state and her teeth clattered and chattered together with her trembling.
Remember what’s waiting for you outside of this forest even if you do somehow manage to make it out alive. The life you chose to leave behind. None of it is worth it anymore. You’re pitiful to feel this damn afraid of something you’ve plotted so thoroughly, but it’s a natural response. I can’t think of many people who wouldn’t shake at the sense of this ridiculous amount of demonic presence…
She took a deep, calming breath at the thought, the sound of the falling cedar becoming background noise to her. Nodding slowly to herself, she pushed forward one last time and began to drag her feet towards the man she now had no doubt was there. No lesser demon would even come close to the essence she picked up on, so at least that thought was calming in its own regard.
Keep walking. Keep going. You’re almost there. You won’t feel this pain or fear for much longer.
She pushed herself through a few bushes now, her shoulder bumping against another cedar as a small clearing gradually came into her line of vision through the foliage ahead of her.
Within the clearing was the finish line.
The demon she had come here to see.
The end of her quest.
The answer to her prayers and the consequence of her sins.
Akaza.
The name rang in her mind from memory at the sight of his muscular frame and head of short, disheveled salmon-toned hair. His back was facing her, his concentration mainly set on the cedars before him which his fists continuously connected with, causing for them to fall one after the other. Sometimes, he’d mix things up with kicks as well, his form rock solid and unmovable with each strike he landed. It appeared as though he were training a form of martial art which, in retrospect, came off rather odd to her if she really thought about it. A demon training his skills as though he were human when the amount of strength he actually harbored was beyond humanity in all definitions of the word? Maybe it was just something he enjoyed to do, beating the life out of tree after tree. Whatever it was, it didn’t really matter. What mattered is that he was really there. The rumors were true and the finish line was now within reach.
She had heard of his battle and unfortunate victory against the Flame Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku, through her Kasugai Crow. It had been widespread news when it happened. It spread like wildfire from Slayer to Slayer, the heartbreaking loss of a man so kind and great like Rengoku leaving a gaping hole many knew not how to fill.
In all regards, she should hate him. This demon. This disgrace and mistake on the face of the planet which only lived to cause pain and suffering to humanity. She should despise him with every fiber in her being – and when the news first reached her, she did. She wanted nothing more than to gain news of his defeat and demise while she mourned the death of the Hashira amongst fellow Slayers at the time.
Right now, however?
He was an antidote to her.
A sweet remedy she was desperate to taste.
A consequence she knew she fully deserved – and the desperation she felt for him to give it to her already only made her feel even less worthy of living on than she already did.
How could she want this so badly?
How could she be this desperate?
How could she be so disrespectful to the memory of Rengoku and the entire Demon Slayer Corps as to seek this demon out for the sole purpose of taking away the breath from her lungs?
Something anyone who knew him would quickly give up in return for Rengoku’s life.
If I could, I would trade places with him in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t even have to think about it. I know I’m unworthy and completely incomparable to him, but if it were possible, I would give my life in exchange for his. He deserved to live. He deserved a happy life. He deserved a lovely future. He deserved every good thing in the universe because of how much of an amazing man he truly was. So, why is it fair that an extraordinary person like Rengoku had to die, but a pathetic excuse for human life like me is allowed to keep going? It isn’t fair. God…please let me trade…Take me instead. Give us back Rengoku, let me rewind time, put me on the Infinity Train and let me take his place against Akaza. Let me give the world that kindness before I go…
Alas, even if it were possible to do as such, she knew Rengoku would’ve never allowed it. He would have saved her just like he had everyone else on that train.
Just like he had given his life to accomplish for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.
I’m sure if he were alive, he’d probably scold me for the thoughts I’m having. He’d probably start giving me one of his zealous pep talks, too, about not giving up so I can keep moving forward in the memory of them…He always had such a warm energy to him…So much hope, courage and perseverance in a world so bleak and scary. I wish I could’ve been like you. I’d like to believe I might be lucky enough to meet you in the afterlife…but…I don’t feel like I deserve to go where you’ve gone.
Her head lowered in shame, the quivering of her lip returning with vengeance. It was then she noticed just how many fallen trees were scattered in this clearing Akaza was training in. So much so, it made her believe the small clearing only existed because of him now, quickly growing in size with each massive cedar he brought to its knees. From up close, the shattering wood caused her ears to ache, the actual quaking fall forcing a flinch from her out of reflex.
Looking up from the litter of fallen trees, she watched as the demon stood up straight and rolled his shoulders after the last cedar he had beaten into submission. He turned his head to one side with a satisfying crrrrrack before turning to the other with the same result.
In his momentary pause, she found the will in herself to force her feet to walk forward again. She found it a bit difficult to maneuver around the fallen trees, her aching body screeching at her now with painful protest each time she jumped herself over one of them. There was no way at this point that the demon of the Upper Moons hadn’t become aware of her presence. She was sure he knew she was there long before she even showed up at this clearing he was making, but if he hadn’t, the raucous of her fumbling over logs and crunching leaves and twigs beneath her feet had certainly alerted him of her approaching presence.
She could tell, because he made no move to continue his training against the cedar no matter how much closer she got to him.
No, he didn’t move until she was right behind him, having somehow managed the hurdle of the final cedar at their feet.
If she hadn’t been before, she was definitely passed the point of no return now.
From up close, she could take in his details a lot better. Markings ran all across his skin, many of which disappeared under the cover of his baggy clothing. From behind, the ones which caught her attention most were the rings encircling his throat, visible still from the back of his neck. That, and the stained ends of his fingers and bare feet, his nails all tinted in a deep red color. All of it contrasted heavily with his pale skin tone and softly colored locks of hair which swayed just the smallest bit with the light breeze sweeping through the woods, offset even further by the reddened pearls ensnared around his ankles.
It was an odd thought, but the combination of his natural colors was a pleasant one. It was a strange sentence which floated in her mind for several moments because of how bizarre it actually was.
She supposed if she would give herself up to a demon, she would rather he didn’t look as terrifying as they come.
At the very least, there was something soothing about the softness in his palette. It almost felt like he belonged in this landscape, really, jumping out of the scenery like a painting in a black and white book.
“This is a surprise,” His rough, masculine voice broke through the silence, causing for the woman’s eyes to shift sharply to the back of the demon’s head. “You Slayers sure are interesting. Coming after me in my own domain like this? Can’t say you’re very good at sneaking up on the enemy, though. Might want to work on that.” He remarked, noticeably disinterested.
Why would he be interested? He didn’t even need to look at the Slayer to know they were weak. Their sounds of struggle as they traversed the fallen trees behind them told him all he needed to know. He had never been interested in fighting weakened opponents. Where was the fun in that? No, he wanted a challenge. Always seeking a new rival to combat and train with for years to come.
It’s a shame those damn Hashiras never chose to turn.
They really would’ve made the centuries so much more fun.
“I’m not interested in facing off, if that’s what you came here for.” He blatantly remarked. “You’re not worth the time, I already know that. If you want to pick a fight, have at it with any of the others in the woods, human.” With that, he readied his fighting stance once more, just as he had prepped himself with earlier. A few seconds after, quick as lightning, he struck the tree directly in front of him with his fist. No sound of effort emitted from him, but the mighty cedar fell backwards with agonized creaks and shatters from the single strike.
She, once again, flinched from the sound of the fall, her eyes turning to look at the defeated cedar before turning back to Akaza once more. A part of her was somewhat surprised that he didn’t care that a human was standing behind him as a perfectly easy target, but another part reckoned that might have been to be expected from someone of his prowess.
It simply reaffirmed the facts she already knew to be true.
For a moment, she didn’t know what to do next. Something in her hadn’t expected to make it this far. She had been convinced, in the back of her mind, that the night would end with her devoured by some random lesser demon in the woods before she could ever hope to stumble upon Akaza. Somehow, someway, fate had listened to her begging and delivered, but now that she found him, what exactly was she supposed to do? Wasn’t this supposed to be as easy as she always envisioned it to be? Wasn’t handing herself over to a demon supposed to quickly fall into the same pattern of blood, violence and gore?
Another tree fell in the midst of her thoughts, this time vanquished by a curt kneeing from the demon. This time, she didn’t flinch, stuck in her head, her eyes focused on the markings on the back of Akaza’s neck.
“You’re still here.” He remarked with a deep sigh, annoyance laced in his tone as he straightened to stand up tall. “Why are you still here? You’re no challenge to me. I assume you got business with me, but let’s be real here, you and I both know how things will end if you really want to try, little Slayer.”
“I…I-I do. That’s why I’m here…” She finally found her voice, deciding she would follow the flow life decided to toss her way right now.
Akaza’s entire demeanor shifted at the sound of her. He startled in place, stiffening from the unexpected feminine voice which carried itself so dimly through the breeze. By instinct, he had assumed the Slayer whom came to so (stupidly) boldly stand before him was a man looking for a fight. He had made a few short guesses in the moment he had spoken to her, wondering if maybe it had been someone from the Corps come to avenge someone he had taken down. He wouldn’t have been surprised; it’s happened before. Nevertheless, he certainly did not expect a woman to approach him for battle tonight.
Slowly, he turned on his heels, his odd, golden hued gaze, marked by the beast, coming to meet with hers. It didn’t take him long to take in the state she was in and to guess she was in no condition to put up any kind of fight, let alone with him if that’s really what she came out here to achieve. She had a noticeably heavy limp, most of her body weight balanced on her left foot. Her facial expression looked worn, spent and drained of all energy. Her Nichirin sword, a blade lethal to demons like him, remained sheathed at her side and she showed zero interest in pulling it out in any form of defense. Her uniform was one he was all too familiar with, having already guessed she was a Slayer long before he ever came to face her because of the distinctive scent of the cloth and the sound of her blade hitting her leg with each move she made.
Despite the roughened exterior, she was extremely feminine. A woman in all forms of the word. Her face was full, cheeks lusciously round with large doe eyes adored by long, fluttering lashes. Her lips, though pulled into a desperate frown due to the state she was in, were plush and pink, lightly pursed with the face she was making. Her hair was thick and tinted in (hair color) which shimmered in the light from the moon he had allowed entrance into the forest within their plain. Her uniform consisted of a knee-length skirt and the typical top he was accustomed to seeing on the Slayers, though it definitely filled out more with the curves of her womanly figure, the color of her legs contrasting heavily from her attire as well.
A woman. He thought to himself, dumbly.
He remained silent, completely taken aback by this predicament. He simply stared at the woman with his widened dual-colored eyes, trying to figure her out from where he stood.
“I know I’m no challenge for you,” She eventually spoke up again, her voice quiet, just there for him to hear. “I know you could…so easily do away with me…You could just…j-just end it all in a second if you wanted to, really…” She muttered, trailing off for a moment as her gaze shifted to the side despondently. “But that’s why I’m here. I…I-I don’t want to put up a fight…” Her gaze shifted back to look him in the eye, her composure quickly faltering and falling as she, quite literally, stared death in the face.
“I want you to kill me…Do what you will, eat me or just do it for the sport of it, b-but…kill me…”
Tears were beginning to surface in her eyes now, quickly blurring her vision before overflowing down the curve of her cheeks. All the while, her expression fell with them, her lips pulling into agonized whimpers as she forced the words out of her raw throat.
“I-I don’t want to be alive anymore,” She openly sobbed at the demon, a creature she knew wouldn’t care, but letting out the thoughts that had been screaming in her head for so long to anyone who would listen was better than letting them die in her head with her. “I d-don’t deserve to be alive, s-so just do it…Do it…!” She was sobbing now, her knees buckling heavily, causing for her sword to clatter loudly at her side. Out of desperation, she reached out to tightly grip at the demon’s loose haori in both of her fists, her legs finally giving out from underneath her.
Just like the mighty cedar, she collapsed with a loud thud that caused her world to quake, and through her blurred vision, she stared up at the man who would finish the job to let moonlight shine through when she was gone.
“K-kill me, take away my breath, wipe me out of existence! P-please, just make it stop! M-make the pain stop! I should’ve died ages ago, but I’m here and it isn’t fair! I don’t deserve to be here! Please, p-please…! I came to you myself, o-on a silver platter, it w-would be so…s-so easy to make it all end here tonight…! PLEASE! DEVOUR ME!” She pulled tightly on his haori, her eyes never leaving his in her pathetic state. She pleaded with him in all ways she thought she could, hoping to elicit some excitement and thrill of the kill in the powerful demon she clung to.
Anything to make the pain stop.
Anything to do away with the agony.
Anything to make the nightmare end.
Anything to stop the loneliness and guilt.
Anything to get what she so rightfully deserved.
Akaza, in turn, stared down at the human woman feeling an uncomfortable sense of foggy nostalgia. It wasn’t in the things she was saying or the desperation in her pleading, but from the tears and the hopeless look in her eyes. There was something…there. It was just out of reach in his mind, tickling his memories, whispering to him of times that never came to be nor came to exist. Yet, the nostalgia still rang.
Why did the nostalgia ring?
He didn’t know, so he continued to stare at the young woman, at a loss on how to react or respond. He made no move to touch her, simply looking down at her with an unreadable expression which more so teetered in the direction of bewilderment. After a moment’s consideration, he raised his hands hesitantly, confused on what he was supposed to do about the sobbing woman who now lowered her head deeply towards her chest as her body curled closer to the ground. Her arms remained outstretched above her, clinging to his haori as she openly cried her tears into the grassy ground of the woods.
He thought about removing her hands from his haori, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. His hands lingered just above hers, his tainted fingers slightly trembling with indecisive energy, but he couldn’t bring himself to place them on hers to pry her off of him. In all his years of living as a demon, he had never had anyone so desperately seek him out to kill them like this. In battle, sure, when his opponent was mangled yet conscious enough to feel it all, but never so forward, out of the blue nor on purpose like this.
His lips parted with the attempt of speech, but no sound came from him. His mouth simply remained slightly agape before coming to a close a few seconds afterwards. The woman’s sobs had grown louder now, letting everything out she had buried within, and the sound of her heartbreak and loss of a will to go on caused for him to feel an incredible sense of growing unease and discomfort.
Was it pity he felt? He didn’t know, but he definitely felt something through this moral code of his.
Despite her distraught and the odd sensation it caused to bubble in him, Akaza had still caught on to the stirring of life in the woods around them. The sound of the woman must have caught the attention of the demons nearby. Did they really think it was such a good idea to encroach in his space? Apparently, at least one of them did. His eyes darted to the left as it shifted fast through the foliage before leaping out a second after in a bellowing flash of mindless hunger.
The sound of its heavy footsteps and soul-shattering bellow reached her viciously, jarring her in place as her eyes widened to stare at the ground beneath them through her constant tears. She only had seconds left to look up and see the beast that was running towards the two of them on all fours, all sense of sanity completely lost from the monstruous maw it held outstretched and salivating for her flesh.
Its fingers dug deeply into the ground each time its palms slammed onto it, booming repeatedly like massive drums straight out of the deepest depths of Hell. Its skin was covered in bulging, bright red blisters, pulsing and shifting with its savagely brusque movements. When its feet propelled it forward, it caused the fallen trees in its way to scatter wildly on either side of its massive rampaging form, slamming into the sides of the standing cedars near its position. It had three eyes – two where you expected them to be, and the third on its forehead, all of which stared wildly ahead of it. It sunk and registered in her the moment she saw them that its sights were primarily set on her, the only human in the forest, frail and vulnerable like a newborn lamb with a broken ankle left for dead.
Plan B was literally stomping towards her at the speed of sound and brutally forcing itself into her reality, whether she wanted it to or not.
In those split seconds before the collision, Akaza had moved before either of the two could notice. He had found the nerve in him to push her hands off of his haori for the sole purpose of planting his feet wide and strong on the ground in front of her. The sound of the earth cracking beneath his soles filled the air as his face morphed to one of sickened anger and his breath steadily left him through his nostrils. His hands moved so quick, their figures seemingly disappeared into thin air until they came to grapple onto one of the charging, deranged demon’s reaching arms. Without flinching, he lifted the massive creature into the air with little effort, the veins in his muscular arms bulging underneath his skin as he turned and slammed the beast into the cemetery of fallen cedar beside himself and the woman at his feet. A massive crater formed beneath its bulky, writhing body when it landed, the impact forcing the shattering of the earth beneath them to deepen and worsen dramatically.
With ease, he tugged strongly on the demon’s arm until it riiipped and tore from its socket. The atmosphere filled with its ear-shattering screech as blood splattered through the air with his curt yank of its enormous arm, but Akaza was unconvinced. He tossed the dismembered appendage into the woods as the beast roared in outrage and began to stand itself up, but before it could get itself very far, he had stomped his foot down ruthlessly on its chest, crushing bones beneath its skin from the force of the leisure blow. He pushed and pushed until the struggling monstruous being was buried in crackling earth. Meanwhile, its remaining arm attempted to reach for him and the woman while the other slowly began to regenerate at the bloodied stub. Promptly, Akaza gripped at its wrist, his fist crushing the bones in the demon’s arm as he, once again, ripped it from its socket as easy as ripping a paper in two.
“You’re new,” He let out in a low, husky, rough tone, eyes wide and staring into the mindlessly violent gaze the demon stared back into his as its own blood steadily began to pool in its crater. “So, I guess your stupidity in thinking you can rush into my space to take something from me is something you can do without an issue makes sense – but that isn’t the case anymore, is it?” He cocked his head to the side, raising his foot and stomping it back down onto the struggling, incoherent demon beneath him. Its bellows had never stopped from the moment Akaza had pinned it to the ground, the sound rattling the foundation of the forest, but it didn’t affect the Upper Moon in any way other than through annoyance and rage.
“I should give you a warning,” He mused, tutting as his foot stomped into the beast once again, forcing its chest to cave in on itself, blood pooling much faster in its crater; a morbid puddle of grotesque proportions. “Let you off with a tap on the wrist,” He reached down, eyes widening up further as the frown on his face deepened when his hand came to grip at the demon’s scraggly head of hair. It came off as though it had been a man before it was turned, and naturally, that made it even more enraging to him. Roughly, he tugged on the demon’s hair, forcing it to raise its head to properly look at him in the midst of its feral, bloody struggles. “That sounds fair, doesn’t it? Maybe I would have if it had just been me. Maybe I wouldn’t have thought twice about you. Maybe I would have let you scurry off without a second thought – but it’s not just me, is it? No, it isn’t. You came out here and charged at her, didn’t you?” He nodded his head, answering his own question as he reached down with his free hand to grip onto the beast’s jaw which hung wide at its snapping, open maw.
“Yeah, you did.”
Mercilessly, his grip tightened on its jaw and yaaanked backwards, tearing the bone and flesh right off of its skull in his iron grip. “You wanted to attack her, didn’t you? Eat her alive? Swallow her whole? Alleviate that disgusting salivation dripping from your mouth? Can’t say I’m surprised, but really,” He laughed humorlessly, tossing the bloodied jaw in his hand into the forest. “You should seriously know better with me here.” Pulling his bloodied foot out of the demon’s concaved chest, Akaza let out a heated breath and scowled deeply. “You sicken me. I hope your regeneration is quick,” He remarked, looking towards the stubs of the demon’s arms and the unnatural groove in its chest where his foot had once been. They were yet to heal, leading him to believe its regenerative abilities were not that strong. A lesser demon in all regards. “You’re gonna need it. Now,” He reached down and grabbed at its twisting body, listening to the gurgled sounds it produced with the lack of a lower jaw. Lifting the beast into the air on both of his hands, Akaza planted his feet firmly on the ground once more, facing the forest ahead.
“Get the hell out of my sight!”
With a mighty heave, he sent the demon hurtling forward through the air, quickly colliding with a path of cedars, easily smashing right through several rows of the thick, ancient trees long before the beast came to a brutal stop a good distance away. Akaza maintained his readied fighting stance, bringing his hands to the ready in front of him in case the demon was senseless enough to look for an actual fight.
It seemed that the beast was smarter than he thought, though, because as soon as it landed, it scrambled on its pathetically bubbling limbs before rushing into the forest to disappear in the dark.
After that, the world plunged into silence once more.
Not even the sound of insects minding their business in their microscopic world could be heard.
The young woman stared up at the Upper Moon’s back with a widened, horrified gaze. She was a crumpled heap on the forest floor, completely at this demon’s mercy, and the spectacle he had shown the Plan B demon was something that caused ice to crystalize through her veins. If he could be that vicious to one of his own kind, what’s to say he wouldn’t be equally as cruel with her? What’s to say he wouldn’t toy with her and inflict as much pain on her as he could just to watch her writhe and cry until he eventually got fed up with her enough to let her die? He was enraged so easily, so quickly…How would it feel? To have his strong hands wrap his ink-dipped fingers around her extremities similarly to how his pearls ensnared his ankles until he crushed her bones? To have him stomp down on her until parts of her caved in? To have him hurtle her through bark and cedar until she was nothing but a mess of human flesh and blood being soaked up by the soil?
She came to Akaza for a quick, painless death – but had she miscalculated?
Would a lesser demon like the one he just pulverized into submission have been more merciful?
Will a confrontation with him be unbelievable agony?
Would she feel every single thing he did to her until the life seeped out of her, or would adrenaline sink in and numb some of the pain by the time things got that bad?
The tears started flowing again, dripping down her chin and clinging to her eyelashes until she blinked them away. Her body started trembling violently as Akaza straightened to stand normally once more. When he turned to face her, a pitiful whimper forced itself out of her lips, her instincts making her kick her heels into the dirt to push her a few feet away from him uselessly.
COWARD, COWARD, COWARD! THE OTHERS HAD IT A MILLION TIMES WORSE THAN YOU! FACE YOUR FATE! ACCEPT THE CONSEQUENCES YOU SO RIGHTFULLY DESERVE!
When he started walking towards her, easily stepping over the carnage of blood and cedar, her heart sank for the millionth time tonight. It was happening. It was finally happening. He was going to heed to her request. He was going to give her what she came to him for – whether it was for better or for worse. Her crying came out broken and choppy now, her chest quickly puffing in and out from how hard it was for her to maintain a composed breath. When he was standing right in front of her, she shut her eyes tightly and allowed her head to hang low again, her shoulders heaving as she waited for the inevitable.
Several long, agonizingly slow seconds passed where nothing happened. She felt nothing, sensed nothing, heard nothing. She didn’t know what was scarier – the actual act of the kill or the anticipation for the blow that was to come. She supposed it wouldn’t matter either way soon enough.
The sound of crinkling leaves is what first broke the silence. The sound of movement. It was abrupt and didn’t last very long, but it was there and it was definitely caused by Akaza. Then, all of a sudden, in the dark of her tightly blocked vision, she felt his hands gently brushing his fingers along her wet cheeks until her face was cupped in a pair of roughly calloused, warm palms slickened with blood. A moment after, the feeling of his thumbs brushing her skin and painting it red tantalized her senses, causing for the eruption of gooseflesh to spread all over her arms. Despite the morbidity of it, the gesture from the demon somehow felt so…gentle. Soft. Tender. Almost…kind.
Could that even be real? Could that seriously even happen? A kind demon? A demon kind towards a human?
She knew of Nezuko’s existence, but from her vague understanding of the circumstances, she was a special case.
Akaza was in an entirely different category all on his own, not to mention his ranking with the twelve Kizuki.
No, this kind touch has to be a cruel joke…His palms, rough-skinned from his training and stained crimson from his brief, sadistic fight, cupping her tear-stricken face with this level of…compassion? Comfort? She didn’t even know how to label the feeling, but it was definitely something she had never envisioned herself labeling upon a demon’s touch.
Was he toying with her? Giving her a false sense of safety before he’d rip her head clean off of her body the way the Slayers’ blades cleanly sliced those of the demons off of theirs? After all, through the touches, she still felt that blood being caressed softly on her face, a cold and honest reminder of what exactly she was dealing with. Though the thought terrified her of the unknown oblivion which waited beyond living, curiosity bested her fear and willed her to open her eyes to look upon the world one last time.
Before her, Akaza had gotten on his knees to better stare down onto her frightened expression with a look of perplexed curiosity of his own. She struck what felt like olden memories in his head by the way she cried and sniveled. The sound strummed cords in him he didn’t know existed, long since dissolved in a past he couldn’t be entirely sure was once reality or something his dreams came up with when he rested in refuge away from the light of day – and now, as he gently stroked the skin of her face out of his own curious nature, the feeling brought other unknown instincts to life in him.
It had always been his moral code not to involve himself with human women. He wasn’t to fight with nor eat any of them, because that was simply the way he chose to live his life. It was a moral code he fiercely followed – what first brought it upon him, he wasn’t so sure. When he looked at the Slayer before him now, however, the image of her crying, frightened state answered a few of his questions in choppy phrases. Nothing linked quite well just yet, but he knew from the look of her that she came off…defenseless. He knew there had to be something strong in her by human standards, of course, that would amount to her becoming a Demon Slayer, but it was more than that. It was just…something else he couldn’t put his finger on. A strong desire to save the life she was so desperate to throw away.
Why would I want to do something like that? His brow furrowed slightly at the thought, his perplexed expression deepening. I don’t know you. You’re just some random human woman who stumbled into me with a ridiculous request. Why would I care? If you were anyone else – any other man I’d faced – I would have ended you on the spot…but there’s something in your eyes. Something…there.
But it was gone before he could grasp it in his mind. The memory dissipated like dust, drifting into the dark of his subconscious, leaving him only with the woman in front of him to make sense of the strange, growing protective feeling he had swelling in his chest.
“No.”
“…N…N-no…?” She repeated meekly, her voice forced out of her throat in a cautious, shaken tremble.
“No, I won’t kill you.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion and her lips parted, taken aback, surprised by the sudden answer to what she had begged him for. She stared at him for numerous, silent moments through the blurring tears in her eyes, unable to shake off just how bizarre that sentence sounded coming from a demon’s lips. Any demon would’ve leaped at the easy catch she came to offer tonight – one of which quite literally did. She had been completely positive that Akaza would have been similar. Maybe not as mindless nor deranged, but she had been convinced he would’ve reveled in the chance to play with easy prey. So…
“W-why not…?”
Akaza didn’t respond. He simply stared at her, one of his bloodied hands sliding further back on her cheek to allow his fingers to weave through her (hair color) locks. His striking dual-colored eyes practically stared right into her soul from how intently he observed and drank her in.
“Relax,” He spoke in a soft murmur. “I won’t hurt you.”
As the words left him, he pulled his hand back from her hair and stiffened it tightly, fingers straightened, before bringing it down firmly over the back of her neck.
She barely had a moment to really register what had just happened. The only thing she was able to notice in those few seconds before she lost consciousness was the powerful blow to her neck and the gentleness in the demon’s eyes. After that, the world slipped out from under her, gravity taking its toll and greedily pulling her towards its core. Akaza, however, caught her against his chest, having brought his arms down to wrap them around her waist so he could properly hold her to his larger figure. For a moment, he just held her, staring at the forest floor as his bloodied hands stained her uniform and her head lulled onto his shoulder. Again, there was something there. Something poking at his subconscious. Knocking at the door of his mind, cooing at him in seductive whispers to open up, but the door disappeared as soon as he attempted to reach out to let it in.
He turned his head to look at the woman in his grip and he squeezed her in closer to himself. This human woman felt…soft all over to hold. Warm. Plush. It was something he was unused to in contrast to his rigorous training, finely toned physique and all of the battles and missions he had been sent on over the course of the centuries he’s lived through. She was the complete polar opposite of everything he knew, really.
Not wanting to dwell too long in the confusing thoughts, he shook his head clear of them, bringing his focus back to the here and now. He stood up with her in his arms, shifting her in his grasp until he had her cradled in both of his arms up against his chest with her head resting on his bicep. Once he carefully settled her in, he began walking deeper into the forest of whispering cedar.
Any other demon would’ve devoured her on the spot, but he had no such desire.
For now, he had to get her the hell out of the forest to start saving her life.
Saving her life…What a strange thing for a demon to consider.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you so very much for making it this far! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter to my fic! c: I appreciate it tons and I hope you're all doing well on your ends of the world and that you guys have loving support systems <3 Much love and hugs, God bless you all! \nwn/ <3
#akaza#akaza x reader#akaza x y/n#kny#kny akaza#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#kimetsu akaza#akaza comfort#comfort#depression#suicidal thoughts triggers#please read the warnings#fanfiction#ao3 writer#ao3 author#ao3 link#read on a03#read on wattpad#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#demon slayer fanfic#kimetsu no yaiba fanfic#akaza fanfic#angst#angst and comfort#kyojurou#kny kyojuro#demon slayer kyojuro#rengoku
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Castles on the sand
Blame it on the storm Sequel
Summary: After the storm that brought them together ended, rebel pilot Luke Skywalker and bounty hunter Din Djarin started a long-distance relationship. It gets more and more complicated when they realize they're developing deep feelings for each other.
Pairing: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Characters: Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Wedge Antilles, Xi'an (Star Wars), R2-D2, Paz Vizsla.
Rating: Mature (+18)
Tags: Canon Divergence (AU), Long-distance Relationship, Post A New Hope (Star Wars), Fluff and Angst, Protective Din Djarin, Tumblr Prompts.
Chapters: 2/3
Navigation: <- Previous Chapter • Next Chapter ->
Part 2 of Wonderwall series
Excerpt:
"I wish you can stay a little longer." He absentmindedly said.
"You know I can't." Din answered soothing his hand on his back. "Maybe we can meet somewhere else next month."
Luke hummed.
"Since it's my birthday." Din casually added, making Luke sit up swiftly on the floor.
"What?" He was blushing sightly, realizing that he didn't know Din's birth date.
"Or maybe not." The mandalorian stated and he sounded a little disappointed.
Chapter 2: Without labels doesn't mean no strings attached
The Razor Crest was slowly holding a special place in Luke's heart, his blue eyes were roaming the ceiling while he was resting his head on Din's chest plate. He moved, slowly, to push up onto his elbow, Din's visor followed his moves, until it was fixed on Luke's face.
"Din?" He asked leaning his head on his knuckles.
Din hummed.
"Nothing." He shrugged looking down with a frown on his face.
"Luke, I know what's on your mind." He sighed "Ask me about her."
Damn! Din was always a step ahead of Luke, in some ways, he reminded him of Leia, they were both very smart and their intuitive understanding of Luke's feelings made him so vulnerable around them.
The blonde nodded pressing his lips together "Did you have a relationship with the twi'lek, Din?" He asked under his breath, afraid of Din's answer but he needed to know, desperately.
"Yes."
Luke's heart sank and he swallowed around the lump in his throat.
"But it was years ago. It's in the past now, Luke." Din added tilting his head like if he was trying to ease Luke's visible discomfort.
"How did you two meet?" He tried to sound not affected at all but he was hating the woman a little more, he didn't know it could be possible until Din's confirmation.
"Twi'lek healing baths."
Luke's eyes widened pulling back a little and Din propped himself up on his elbows "It's not what you think." He said leaning in close to Luke "I was there for a job, she helped me localize the target, then she introduced me to her brother and we kinda started working together. I did things, uh, jobs that you will find questionable."
Luke's stomach turned, again, this was a part of Din's life that he wanted to ignore but he needed to love every aspect of him. Love? That word again. He bored into Din's visor and put a brave face on it, trying to ignore that Din had a troubled past that he didn't know about "What happened to her brother?"
Din shrugged "I left him behind and saved my skin. We were involved in pretty bad things but I drew the line when he started hurting innocent people only because he could. I wanted to stop him, so I did it."
The air returned to Luke's lungs, he was now feeling relieved, he always thought that Din was indeed a man with a kind heart, the fact that he put an end to the twi'lek's cruelty only reinforced the good concept he already had of Din. Or maybe he was just idealizing him.
"What about you, cyar'ika?" Din asked him stroking his cheek "Have you been in a relationship before?"
Before. That word coming from Din's lips made Luke's heart run fast, even when Din asked him not to label whatever was going on between them he used the word relationship to refer to them indirectly. His eyes glistened, a shy smile appearing on his face.
"No, never." He licked his bottom lip and Din ran his thumb over it afterwards making him sigh out of delight "I had crushes on people though." Din nodded encouraging him to keep talking about it. "Biggs. He was my best friend when I was growing up on Tatooine." He didn't look away from Din trying to find any sign of distress, deep down he was aching for any display of jealousy and possessiveness coming from Din, but the mandalorian didn't make a move and didn't say a word, he kept cupping Luke's face tenderly. "And, uh, Leia..." He added and Din withdrew his hand from him.
"Organa?" He asked in a high-pitched tone making Luke startle.
"Yes!" Luke answered defensively with a scowl on his face "What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing it's just-" Din chuckled "I don't know, when I saw you together, the day I met you, you two gave me these siblings vibes." He laughed softly behind his helmet "I'm sorry, but that's what I felt." He soothed his hand on Luke's arm.
Luke frowned "That's weird, siblings?"
Din nodded "Now that you mention Organa, how much longer we have, mesh'la?"
Their time together was coming to and end again and Luke's heart was breaking in two "A couple of hours." He sighed.
"What do you want to do?"
Luke's eyes traveled him from helmet to boots, he smiled thinking that Din looked always breathtaking lying next to him, even with all that beskar on him. Then the idea of running his hands all over Din's naked chest popped into his mind "Kiss me?"
Din groaned.
"But first..." He said as his trembling fingers found Din's chest plate unfastening the straps and Din clutched his hands, Luke looked up at his visor as confusion crossed his features.
"No." The mandalorian uttered "Please don't, cyar'ika."
"No?" Luke asked under his breath.
"No sweetheart, I can't." He answered caressing his knuckles.
Luke sighed deeply, feeling stupid and thoughtless "Your creed, right, I'm sorry." He apologized but he couldn't help feeling rejected.
"No, it's not that." Din moved to hover over him, his knees at both sides of Luke's hips, leaning himself on his hands, staring at Luke's eyes "Putting these on again will take a lot of time, if something happened, if someone broke into my ship, well, it's a risk I won't take, it's different when it comes to the helmet, I can put it back on in a second and I'm ready to protect you, cyar'ika. I won't put you in danger, not even when I'm dying to feel you against me."
"Din..." Luke sighed as a flutter of electricity ran all over his body, he stroked his man's arms choking with emotion, he tried to control himself, since the idea of Din putting him before his own needs was overwhelming and enticing. "I can protect myself, you know?" He managed to say avoiding the real subject, was Din telling him that he loved him between the lines?
Din hummed "Yeah, but beskar deflects blaster shots better than flesh, Luke." He laughed. Oh his laugh, Luke was taken aback by Din's beautiful, alluring, deep voice, and hearing him happy was something else entirely.
I think I love you too.
~
With every encounter Luke became more fond of wearing their blindfold, he loved the way it intensified his other sensations, heightening the experience of giving himself to Din. He was breathing heavily listening to the beat of his own heart, so clear and overwhelming as Din was unbuttoning his black shirt, he sighed feeling how the mandalorian brushed his fingers against his shoulders, exposing the skin burning under his touch. The lips of his man on his chest while he was finally peeling off the shirt, Luke was digging his fingers into Din's scalp, stroking his curls, gently bringing him close to his face, breathing deeply, he smiled, he could smell Din's skin, spicy and warm, as his mouth found his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses, trembling beneath his lover's body. Two hours, two hours to live a thousand lives, two hours to love Din without restriction.
Luke's mouth fell open as he was feeling Din's lips around him, his lover head's between his thighs, the patched beard chafing the skin of his inner thighs deliciously, his fingers finding Din's hair, twisting and pulling a little. The mandalorian's name falling from his lips when the vision of Din emerged through the purple haze catching him off guard. Luke frowned as his hand tensed up against Din's hair, he thought that the visions had stopped, he never suspected that not only they would return but also clearer and more complete than ever.
"Fuck!" He exclaimed slapping his hand over his mouth, covering it completely. The vision was definitely spellbinding. He could see Din's arms wrapped around his legs, then the vision vanished.
He felt Din's lips retreating from him then he heard him clearing his throat.
"What is it cyar'ika? Should I stop?" His hoarse voice and his hand, curled around his thigh, squeezing a little, making Luke shudder.
Then the vision popped into his mind again, Din's brown eyes boring into his soul, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, with his bottom lip glistening, the skin of his arms and shoulders glowing in sweat and Luke was repeating to himself as a mantra You can't control this is, Luke. You can't control this. You're not breaking his creed.
Luke swallowed, drawing his hands down to caress Din's shoulders only to feel the hard beskar of his pauldrons under his hands, still in his mental image he saw the way Din's bare upper body reacted to his touch, his muscles flexing and relaxing under the soft tanned skin, so inviting, and Luke couldn't help but give himself to the tingling warmth building in his lower belly. He withdrew his hands from Din slowly.
Although he had no control over the force, he was certain that his desire to feel Din's skin against his own was triggering the visions.
"No." The blonde said out of breath "Don't stop Din, please." He ran his hands through his own hair now, overwhelmed and even with his eyes shut behind the blindfold he could still see the image of his lover, the way a lopsided grin crossed his face before bowing his head as his mouth returned to Luke.
"Din..." He moaned, shamelessly basking in everything his man was giving him.
~
After he returned to Hoth, Luke was feeling more relaxed and easygoing, he was spending more time with his mates again, just the way he used to before meeting Din.
"Did he dump you, Luke?" Brando asked from the other side of the table, he nodded laughing.
The blonde took a sip of his spotchka, then put the glass down, licking his lips, smiling "You wish, Brando." He retorted making the rest of the pilots laugh.
Killian slapped Brando's shoulder mockingly.
"Yeah, yeah, right." Brando grunted "Have you even seen his face?"
Silence.
Luke looked around.
"Oh, man, that sucks. I heard that he's a weird mandalorian, the kind of mandalorian that can't take off his helmet ever. I thought they were a myth, children's stories." He chuckled.
Luke pressed his lips together, shaking his head "Why do you ask? Are you trying to get one for your own?"
"He got you, Brando!" Wedge exclaimed, the complete squad bursting with laughter.
Brando narrowed his eyes tilting his head, arms crossed over his chest "Yeah, laugh, but think about this, what if the day comes and you're kissing him for the first time and he's not only terrible kisser, but also he can't make you feel a thing."
If only Brando knew. Luke looked down thinking that he wouldn't say a word about the big concession Din made by allowing Luke to kiss him, therefore he remained silent. "I'll tell you what-" He finally said "If that happens I would definitely give you a chance." He mocked "Till then, I'm still out of limits for you." He chuckled.
Brando nodded, raising his glass at him "That hurts, Skywalker, but thank you anyway."
Luke breathed in and out relieved, satisfied, knowing that he could manage Brando's advances now, without Din's help, he smiled thinking that Din would be so proud of him.
When he was walking towards the showers he put his hand in his pocket to pull out his com and realized its light was flickering.
"Shit." He muttered looking around. He was alone, so he considered that it was safe to play the message, he was sure it was Din's.
"Cyar'ika, I'm traveling now, please, com me when you get this."
Luke's eyes widened, he ran to the hangar, dodging people in his way.
"Watch out, kid!" He heard Han yelling but he didn't stop, his heart was in his throat, he was blinking back tears. This was the first time Din asked him to com him, Din was definitely in danger, a sharp sense of dread invading his whole being.
He climbed into his X-Wing and closed the transparisteel canopy, his breath coming uneven as he hit Din's comlink.
Please, Din. Please, Din. Please, Din.
Din answered.
"Luke?"
"Din?"
Silence.
The blonde leaned forward clutching his com device "Are you alright? Are you hurt? Where are you?" He could feel a fat drop of cold sweat running down his back.
"I'm, ah, I'm alright."
"What happened?"
Din hummed "I just wanted to talk to you."
Luke frowned "Why?" He sputtered still thinking that something terrible was happening to Din, maybe someone captured him and now a knife was pointing at his throat while they were talking, maybe some imps got him.
"I'm sorry, if this is not a good time-"
"Wait." Luke cut him off, he scratched the back of his head with his free hand "What? So you are okay?"
"Well... Yes."
Realization hit Luke hard "And you wanted to talk with me..." He said under his breath feeling a little stupid as a goofy smile appeared on his face.
"Yes." Din insisted.
Luke leaned back in the seat not believing his luck "Hi Din." He chuckled.
"Hi cyar'ika."
He wouldn't miss the chance "So you commed me because you were missing me or-"
Din chuckled deliciously "Right." He said making Luke sigh. "You're gonna love this, I dreamt about you, Luke. It was a little weird though."
"Really?" He arched one eyebrow "Tell me about it, Din."
"We were in the Hoth base, you were sitting on my lap, we were sitting across from your squad mates at that large table. You were wearing that black shirt and those brown pants you wore when we met on Nevarro the last time."
Din was killing him.
"From one moment to the next I wasn't wearing my chest plate somehow, and I unzipped the upper part of my flight suit, then I untucked your shirt from your pants, exposing your small back a little, carefully, so nobody around us could notice. Then I brought you close to me, pressing our bodies together, skin-to-skin. You were sighing with every move of my chest and I was groaning as your warmth drove me crazy. The thing is the guys around us kept talking not even realizing we were starting our foreplay, that had me going so badly. That's all I remember."
Luke's eyes were fixed on the com device, he was gaping, utterly dumbfounded.
"Luke? Are you there?" Din waited patiently for his answer.
"I think I need a moment, Din."
~
The escapades were surely exhilarating, but nothing compared to what Din coming back to Hoth made Luke feel. Every time Leia hired Din, Luke pretended that his man was coming home. Hoth, where everything started.
As many times before, Din was sitting on the floor of the Razor Crest leaning his back against the wall. Luke was sitting cross-legged beside him.
"Luke, I brought you something." The mandalorian said resting his forearm on his knee.
"Power converters?" Luke narrowed his eyes smiling "I mean, since you promised that like ten months ago." He chuckled.
"I said that maybe I could bring some power converters, that's not a promise, Luke." He sighed.
"I know." He said shrugging one shoulder "I know you keep your promises. I was joking."
The mandalorian nodded reaching a hand behind himself, pulling a vibro-knife from his utility belt, Luke frowned smiling.
"Din, is this a vibro-knife?" Luke beamed taking the blade from Din's gloved hand.
"Yeah, I hope you like it."
"Thank you, Din! I love it! Was this yours? Please don't tell me you spent a lot of credits on this." Although Luke didn't want to sound as if he was rebuffing his gift, he knew how hard Din worked in order to provide to his tribe.
"Wasn't mine. My tribe leader forged it. I asked her to forge it for you." He shrugged "Is not beskar though, but it can cut a droid in half."
Luke's heart skipped a beat as he was staring at Din astonished "Your tribe leader? For me?" He was babbling.
"Yeah, I didn't tell her it was for you, she only knew it was a gift, she didn't need to know." Din said as he rose to his feet "Come on Luke, I'm gonna show you some moves." He insisted tilting his head. Luke craned his neck to look at Din, his blue eyes glistening.
Din was a strict trainer, Luke was peeling off his waistcoat as he started sweating exhausted, but he was totally committed to the task, learning how to use his new blade properly.
"Remember, your hand firm and away from your body." The mandalorian said standing beside him. "This is not a blaster, this is a close range weapon, your body and your mind need to understand that."
"Like this?" Luke asked focused on his stance and the way he was wielding the blade.
Din nodded with his visor on Luke's outstretched arm, hands on his own hips "Good lunge." He encouraged Luke making him smile.
That evening Luke was curling up on their blankets facing Din, resting his head on the mandalorian's arm. Eyes half lidded, he yawned stroking Din's chest plate.
"I wish you can stay a little longer." He absentmindedly said.
"You know I can't." Din answered soothing his hand on his back. "Maybe we can meet somewhere else next month."
Luke hummed.
"Since it's my birthday." Din casually added, making Luke sit up swiftly on the floor.
"What?" He was blushing sightly, realizing that he didn't know Din's birth date.
"Or maybe not." The mandalorian stated and he sounded a little disappointed.
Luke licked his lips, crossing his legs, shifting a little to look at Din's face "No, no, I mean, I didn't know it was your birthday. I'm such a mess, kriff, I never asked you about it, oh, Din." He was feeling guilty.
"Don't worry cyar'ika, now that I think about it I don't know yours either."
"But I should have known that, that's something a bo-" He trailed off blinking. That's something a boyfriend should know, he nibbled on his bottom lip, looking at Din through his eyelashes, hoping he would overlook what he almost said. He closed his eyes when Din caressed his cheek softly.
"Well, are you coming next month?" Din asked and the blonde sighed relieved, luckily he missed the way he trailed off, or maybe he was making both a favour by not saying a word about Luke's slip.
Luke leaned into his touch "I wouldn't miss it for the world." He kissed the hill of Din's hand, lips curling up into a smile "Nevarro?"
"No, a better place this time." He said making Luke look at him and raise his eyebrows "Some place that would make your black shirt and brown pants justice." He chuckled and Luke shook his head slowly, with a knowing smile on his face.
~
The days between Din's last visit to Hoth and Luke's next escapade found the blonde traveling through the galaxy alongside his good friend Wedge. He returned to the rebel base a cicle earlier. When his X-Wing entered the hangar he spotted Leia by the Millennium Falcon, by the time he jumped off his ship he cast a glance at her, the princess was staring at him, arms crossed over her chest, with a scowl on her face. He started closing the distance between them.
"Where's Antilles?" She asked arching her eyebrows.
That was a fair question, Luke didn't want to worry her therefore he answered as fast as he could "He's totally fine! He's just patrolling the end section of our route." He forced a smile at her.
"And why are you here and not with him, Luke?" She tilted her head, her eyes on the X-Wing "Is your ship damaged?"
Embarrassment was taking Luke over "It's, um, it's not that, I needed to come back earlier." He could notice the way impatience crossed his friend's features "I'm meeting Din, it's his birthday."
His words made Leia's eyes widen, her lips parted, she looked astonished and Luke needed to look down in order to avoid her gaze "And you left your partner alone? Gods, Luke! I understand that this is important to you but we're risking our necks here, how could you leave him alone?"
She was right. Was Luke being selfish and reckless? Since Din came to his life his priorities had changed and, what for? Even when he was sure about his feelings about Din he only kept finding that he was dancing to the mandalorian's rhythm. He thought back to Din's words over the last year.
"Don't label this, it wasn't fake then and it's not real now, and you know that."
"My people are waiting for these credits, they depend on me to survive, Luke."
"We should take one step at a time."
Was Luke investing in their relationship more than Din? Was Luke putting his goals and beliefs aside while Din was doing the right thing, respecting his commitment to his people? And here he was, standing before Leia, realizing that maybe he was throwing away his work, the rebel alliance's work.
"I know, I'm sorry, I put Wedge in danger. I know you're right." He said shrugging.
"I don't want to be right, I want to be wrong, Luke." Leia said shaking her head "I want Antilles to come back safe and sound." She clicked her tongue "Where are you going this time?" She asked and her expression softened.
Luke hesitated for a moment and then he thought that this was Leia, she should know about his whereabouts if something happened "Glavis Ringworld."
Leia narrowed her eyes "Weird."
Although Luke had never heard about Glavis Ringworld, he searched for information about it. It wasn't a planet nor a moon, he was surprised to learn that it was actually, a space station.
"Have you been there, Leia?"
The princess shook her head and pressed her lips together "No, but I know is just a place of transit, where you also could find entertainment." She looked at one side as Han was walking towards them with a smirk on his face "But here's the man that surely knows that place like the back of his hand." She snorted and turned around walking away as Han was shrugging staring at Luke.
"What place?" He asked Luke.
"Glavis Ringworld." The blonde said under his breath as if he was sharing a secret.
"Oh!" Han straightened his back and raised his eyebrows "Good place to do naughty things." His lips curling up.
"Naughty things?" Luke frowned.
"Yeah, there're night clubs and motels, I met some nice ladies there." He chuckled resting his hands on his hips "So, why were you guys talking about that love nest? Is Leia going there?" His face contorted.
"She's not-she's not going there." Luke sighed as his cheeks were now flushing.
"So? Who's going?" He insisted but Luke ignored his question walking towards the barracks "Hey! Kid! Who's going there? Who's gonna be pounded like there's no tomorrow? Huh?"
~
The elevator was taking him to the top level of the space station, just like Din specified the last time they chatted. Luke looked down straightening the cuff of his yellow jacket, his heart was pounding against his ribcage, Glavis Ringworld was something else entirely, people of different species walking up and down, just like back on Tatooine, but, unlike on Tatooine, they were having fun here, he relished in the sound of music and chattering at the distance. Luke was still dumbfounded by the sight of the space station, he couldn't wrap his head around that he was walking and standing on his own feet on an open-looped ring artificial world.
When he left the elevator he could feel all eyes on him, he kept walking avoiding their gaze, looking down and quickening his pace. He chose a table, with a booth, and sat down smiling a little thinking that Din would appreciate it.
He was enjoying his spotchka when two men approached him, his blue eyes switching between them. His lips parted slowly when he realized one of them looked like Din, but this one couldn't be Din, besides his eyes were a little different, not as kind and pure as Din's, still his forehead furrowed staring at the tall man who was now leaning forward to look straight into the blonde's eyes.
"I've been looking at you for a while now and I think you look a little lonely, mind if we join you?" The man said with a charming smile.
While the man was really good looking and interesting, Luke smiled shaking his head "Thank you but I'm waiting for someone."
"Of course you are, but we can keep you occupied till then if you want to, pretty boy." The man chuckled leaning back making Luke feel uneasy.
"I'm not interested." He retorted sipping his spotchka, he put his glass down "I told you I'm waiting for someone."
The men looked at each other and shared a nasty smile, the Din lookalike leaned his hand on the table "We're not leaving, sweetheart." He deadpanned.
"He told you he's waiting for someone." Din's voice making Luke flinch, his blue eyes sparked with happiness when he could finally see his helmet between the two men's heads.
They turned around facing Din "And who's this, pretty boy?" The man asked casting a glance at Luke over his shoulder "Your bodyguard?" He laughed.
Din didn't make a move, his visor was fixed on the man's face. Luke stood up slowly.
"Don't worry, mandalorian, we didn't touch one hair on his pretty head." He laughed tilting his head to one side and his friend followed him while they were walking away "Poor man, just imagine being in his shoes, being paid to witness how some random guy enjoys fucking that pretty little thing."
Luke could notice the way Din's chest heaved, he closed the distance between them and put his hand on his chest plate "Poor them." He said purring with a playful smile on his face, looking up at Din's visor, his face so close to his helmet "Just imagine being in their shoes and witnessing how my mandalorian dance with me all night long."
The rumble inside Din's chest came out as a chuckle that weakened Luke's knees effortlessly "What if you make out with your mandalorian as well?" Luke nodded with sincere eyes, not looking away, he shivered when he felt Din's gloved hand against the back of his head and the cold beskar against his forehead.
"Hi Din." He sighed encircling Din's waist with his arms "I missed you."
Din hummed running his fingers through his hair "I missed you more, cyar'ika."
"Happy birthday, babe." He whispered and Din's fingers stopped, Luke frowned pulling back a little not understanding what was going on "Din?"
"You called me babe?" The mandalorian asked in a low voice, making Luke swallow hard and squeeze his eyes shut.
Fuck! He overstepped.
"I-I'm, I don't know why I called you that, I'm sorry." He managed to say as he opened his eyes.
Din groaned pressing their foreheads together again "Don't be sorry, call me that. Please cyar'ika, I want to hear you saying it again, over and over."
Luke's heart fluttered, he sighed deeply "Babe." Din chuckled. "Babe." He said moving his head a little to press a kiss on his visor "Babe..." Din drew his hands down and squeezed his waist.
Happy birthday, love.
~
Din was staring at him while Luke was savouring a batuu-bon, his plump lips covered in white chocolate mousse while his blue eyes were glistening. He licked his upper lip clean, resting his bare forearms on the table, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the ends of his blonde hair curling up graciously, he looked like an angel under the warmth lights. He looked at Din sideways smiling, holding a fork between his fingers "What is it, Din?" He smiled as the corner of his eyes crinkled.
The mandalorian looked around and then at him again "Look at you, Luke. Everyone is looking at you."
Luke leaned back leaving the fork on the table.
"I think I'm the lucky one here, huh?" Din added chuckling.
Luke's hand found Din's and he squeezed it gently, reassuringly "Oh, no, I'm the lucky one, Din." He said as fast as he could, Din looked down at their joined hands on the table.
Din shrugged one arm and looked at his face again "Come on, cyar'ika, since day one people think I'm your hired gun, your bodyguard." He chuckled "This is just a fluke, and no matter what, I'm okay with that."
The words coming from Din made Luke's heart sink, he caressed Din's helmet tenderly, reverently. A fluke? How could Din be so clueless, so wrong? He realized that Din was being self-conscious for the first time since they started their relationship and while he was desperate to see Din jealous, this was heart-rending. He considered telling Din how he was feeling about him but he knew that it wasn't the right time to do so, therefore he smiled and leaned in closer to him to nuzzle his neck "We're tied to each other Din, I'm not going anywhere, this is not a fluke, I choose to be with you, you're the one I need." He chuckled trying to hide the way his voice was breaking since it took all his strength not to tell him that he was falling for him, he couldn't say the word love but at least he could show him how much he wanted him.
Din tilted his head down when Luke rested his cheek on his pauldron, he hummed "Wanna dance, Skywalker?" Luke's lips curled into a smile.
They danced to the music holding each other, Din's arm on his small back as Luke was running his fingers across his shoulders and nape, Luke was sparkling, laughing graciously, spinning around smiling, the artificial light playing with his hair, making his eyes sparkle, Din encircled his waist with his arms and rested his helmeted chin on his shoulder, sending shivers down his spine "This is the first time I celebrate my birthday since I was a little kid." Din said and Luke froze. His stomach clenched as he thought back to the day Din told him about his parents' fate, knowing for sure that he hasn't celebrated his birthday in decades, presumably since he lost his parents and now, he's celebrating his birthday with me... Realization hit him as Din sighed bringing him out of his thoughts. "I'm-I'm so glad you're here, and I'm so glad you're the person I'm sharing this day with, Luke."
His heart was running faster as he kissed Din's helmet wrapping his arms around his shoulders, he couldn't help but feel that Din was telling him that he loved him for a second time "Me too, Din, me too." He sighed, yes, I love you too.
~
Nevarro seemed as serene as the last time he visited the planet a year earlier, he didn't know why but Din wasn't inviting him over anymore, they kept seeing each other on Hoth or any other world, but not Nevarro, not anymore. That was why he came to the conclusion that this was indeed Din's home.
He commed Wedge "Changed your clothes, is not safe walking around in our flight suits." He shed his suit carefully inside the small cockpit of his X-Wing and put some civilian clothes on.
They roamed around the city for a while until Luke found the cantina where Din and him spend that evening so long ago. He nodded at Wedge, his friend nodded back at him and when they were stepping inside he caught a glimpse of a blue helmet out of the corner of his eye, Luke's eyes widened realizing that he found another mandalorian, but this mandalorian was already out of sight, disappearing between the people on the street. Luke touched his friend's upper arm absentmindedly and walked down the street in order to find the mandalorian.
They reached a crossroad "This way." Said Wedge tilting his head towards an alley, they were almost approaching the end of the passageway when a punch landed on Luke's back squeezing the air out of his lungs, making him fall on his knees coughing, his hands on the ground as he looked heavenward, everything became blurry. When he looked over his shoulder he found the mandalorian grabbing Wedge from behind pointing at his neck with a knife.
Luke, as reckless as he was, threw himself at them and the mandalorian let go of Wedge clutching Luke by his upper arms and hit his forehead with his helmet, Luke stumbled as the man was hitting a button in his vambrace and the blonde knew what that meant, he was almost dead, Wedge was still on the floor but he managed to sweep the mandalorian's leg making him fall against Luke, when the mandalorian pulled back the blonde was already pressing the tip of his vibro-knife against the man's neck.
"Move and you're dead." He said through gritted teeth. He was straddling the mandalorian now, he looked down at him realizing the man was huge, broad, even thicc. He swallowed through the lump in his throat not sure if he could walk out of this alive.
"Where did you get this?" He asked and Luke frowned.
"I need information about Din Djarin." Luke said instead.
The mandalorian grunted hitting Luke's back with his knee and clutched his arms as he rolled them over, now Luke was beneath him "What did you do to him? What did you do to him?" He kept asking "This is his vibro-knife!" He said trying to control Luke's hand as the young man was still trying to point the blade at him "What did you do to him?"
Luke was clenching his jaw, struggling to get rid of the massive man crushing him when Wedge pointed at the mandalorian's ribs with his blaster. The mandalorian froze.
"We need your help, I'm Wedge and this is Luke, please, we know Din, we're not here to hurt anyone."
The mandalorian stayed hovering over Luke for a while and then he fixed his visor on the blonde's face "You are Luke?"
Luke arched his eyebrows and then nodded, still shaken by their confrontation.
"Din's Luke?" He asked as he was withdrawing his hands from Luke's wrists.
Even as railed up as he was, his heart leapt in his chest when he heard the mandalorian calling him Din's Luke.
"Uh-huh." He managed to say sitting up on the floor, he narrowed his eyes "He told you about me?" He couldn't help but ask.
The mandalorian rose to his feet offering him a hand, Luke grabbed it and he stood up slowly, feeling a sharp pain when he breathed in, he took his free hand to his ribcage. "I only know your name, that's all he told me, well, that and that he's seeing you." The mandalorian said letting his hand go.
Luke's expression softened thinking about Din telling his friends that he was seeing him and he couldn't be more proud "And you are?"
"I'm Paz Vizsla."
Luke's eyes went round. The Paz Vizsla? The same that broke Din's heart when he was a teenager? Luke didn't know Din was still in contact with this man, his blood was boiling but he couldn't say a word, besides he was there only to know about Din's whereabouts. He wouldn't lose focus.
He nodded instead "Is he here?"
"Din? No." Paz shook his head.
"Do you know where he is?" He closed the distance between them staring at the man's visor.
"What is this all about?"
Luke looked down "I think something happened to him, it's been three weeks since he commed me and I sent him tons of messages, he never answered."
Vizsla shrugged "He tends to disappear from time to time, I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."
"No, you don't understand, this never happened before." Luke insisted "Please, anything, I need to know where he was going."
"Tatooine." The mandalorian sputtered.
Luke drew in a sharp inhale "Tatooine? Are you sure?"
"Listen pretty boy, you're pushing here, yes, I'm sure, I was the one who told him about that job, so yes, he was going to Tatooine." He said towering over Luke and he understood that he shouldn't push his luck, he had a lead and that was more than enough.
~
"Luke, this was a detour but we need to go back now, we can't go to Tatooine." Wedge said when they were approaching their X-Wings.
The blonde clutched his upper arm with a feeble smile on his face "You're right, we can't go to Tatooine, that's why I'm going there alone."
His friend shook his head slowly not breaking eye contact with him. Luke nodded.
While he was traveling through the galaxy Luke rubbed his fist against his eyes fighting the tears threatening to fall. Two days earlier he sensed through the force that Din was in pain, he couldn't understand the nature of those feelings until he came to the conclusion that this was another manifestation of their deep connection, he thought that the force has yet to fail him and that made his heart ache, he squeezed his eyes shut and the tears finally rolled down his cheeks "Hold on, love." He said under his breath "I'm coming."
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Foreigner's God: Chapter 7
Main Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC
Chapter Summary: There is something incredibly off about Tony’s behavior, and Eliza decides she can’t do it anymore. She’s done. The fight leads to several revelations. One, she might be going slightly insane and two, Clinton Church is actually quite the nice place to go to if you’re having a panic attack. Other than that, Matt is still himself. While that might lead to some tension between them, she’s never been happier to have a place to go to that isn’t lonely, and he cares. This friendship might just be all she needs, after all.
Warnings: this is so long, mentions of drug abuse, alcohol consumption, there’s some foreshadowing, Tony Stark is being slandered, a phone call with Peter, hallucinations, panic attack, religious imagery, confession, praying, S3 spoilers, Eliza’s ever-lasting guilt, arguing, yelling, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), crying, not feeling good enough, some bad humor & cliché age gap joke
Other characters: Natasha, Steve, Thor, Bruce, Tony, Clint, Peter Parker, Father Lantom & Sister Maggie, also some random homeless man just trying to help a girl out
Word Count: ~ 10k
A/n: I tried working out some of my own religious trauma with this one and also… well, this shit is plot-heavy so you might need a clear head to read this. If anyone asks, no I’m not okay. And no, Tony just acts like an asshole. He ISNT the villain. Still haven’t done him dirty enough, but we’ll soon be done with the slander. The next chapter will be posted tonight as well!
Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!
Read Chapter 7: right where you left me Here on AO3!
18+ MINORS DNI
The first time Eliza Bennett met Tony Stark was the day Loki destroyed New York. She’d only been working for SHIELD for a short amount of time back then, trying to get accustomed to her new life, her new identity. It’s safe to say she has always been exceptionally good at it. At being an Agent, being a hero, and every other thing way beyond her maturity level. She was never taught any better. Being an Agent in the field resembled her life at Hydra almost down a tee. Except she wasn’t killing people and she had her own free will, which was nice, but also not so much. She followed orders but she had a choice to stay or to start a new somewhere, get a taste of that human lifestyle everyone kept telling her about. It was new and scary, and she hated the fact that it didn’t feel like her.
May 3rd, 2012.
She was undercover at a gala when she heard the static rushing in her earpiece. “Mission’s over,” Natasha said.
“What?” Eliza looked down at the glass of Martini in her hand, then back at the dance floor on which the Senator she was watching kept twirling his date around. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” she said. “I practiced my tango, like you told me to. It’d be a shame if I couldn’t show it off!”
The woman laughed. “I’d love to see it, but this is urgent. Pack up! We’re going back on the Helicarrier. I’ve got someone else covering our Russian spy senator and his bimbo.”
“Don’t call her a bimbo, Nat.“
“But it’s true. Admit it.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Eliza left the party, the black limousine waiting for her at the entrance. The nice valet opened her the door, but he was dangerously pale around the nose. She cocked her head. Someone had been threatening him.
Natasha sat in the dark of the backseat, holding a file. She should’ve expected the redhead to make her appearance so soon. Urgent meant nothing less than time sensitive and when it came to matters with such a label, she was always first on every scene.
“Wait, weren’t you just in some Russian guy’s lair?” she asked her.
“Yeah, Coulson bailed me out. Threatened the guy. I almost had him. Ended up kicking his ass like the little bitch he was.”
“Did you get the intel?”
“What do you take me for?”
“Of course, you did. So, what’s up? What’s up with the urgency?”
“I know you’ve never done this before,” Natasha said. She handed the file over, her hand enveloped in black leather gloves. “But the fate of the world depends on it, and we could really use your help right now.”
She opened the brown folder, the first page a picture of a glowing blue box. “The tesseract,” Eliza choked out. An object with the most magnetic pull.
Fury never once allowed her to be less than ten feet of it. She had to stay in the circle. Why, she didn’t know, but he had his reasons.
“Yes, it’s recently come into possession of a, uh… I don’t know what he is. An alien? Some guy with greasy hair and a spear. He’s not of this world, that’s for sure. He stole it from the base earlier tonight.”
“This thing has unimaginable power. How could he just steal it?”
“As I said, he’s an alien. And he’s Thor’s brother. Turn the page.” She did. The next series of pictures were screenshots from the security cameras. The man with black hair stared straight at the screen. He was attractive, sure, but the crazy in his eyes killed the mood.
“Jesus.” Eliza shook her head. Somehow the glow of his scepter felt… familiar? It was just a picture, it was probably stupid, but she felt drawn to it nonetheless. “What’s the procedure?” she questioned.
Natasha smirked. “We’re getting the band back together.”
With the band, she meant the Avengers. The Avengers Initiative failed before. Imagine her surprise when the pair set foot on the Helicarrier to find the group of unlikely allies meddled together for the first time ever. None of them looked like they belonged there.
“I could imagine better things than to be trapped on here with the Hulk,” she told Natasha. “And the guy whose brother is currently threatening to take over the world.”
“He’s still my brother!” Thor snapped from somewhere in the distance.
“He killed eighty people in two days.”
“Well, he’s adopted.”
“And I’m a former Hydra operative. What’s your point?”
“See, so even you have made mistakes, earthling.”
Eliza glared at the blond man. He was attractive. He was tall and muscular and every woman’s dream. In that moment though, all he did was infuriate her to the point, her blood boiled.
“Don’t call me earthling, you daft Asgardian Shakespeare.”
“I feel like you have been misinformed about me. I’m Thor, the God of-“
“Thunder, yeah, I know. I don’t care.” She turned to the rest of the team. “If I end up squashed,” - she pointed at Bruce - “under the edge of a Vibranium shield,” - she pointed at Captain America - “shot with an arrow through the eye,” - her eyes narrowed at Clint - “hit with a magic hammer or ATTACKED BY A FUCKING METAL SUIT, MISTER STARK!” Tony felt her finger poke deep into his chest. “I will make sure we all die up here,” she finished. “You got that?”
But Natasha taught her all about control, so she swallowed the red threatening to expose her and focused back on the task at hand.
Tony was actually the only one to eye her with curiosity instead of fear. “Do they usually start this young?” he asked.
Eliza used to be a very superstitious person. She didn’t trust anyone outside of her fellow Agents and even then she kept her distance. She was a scared girl in a big world, not knowing who she was or how she got there, with powers raging inside of her that she couldn’t quite grasp. The Avengers were a pool of strangers that she was tossed in without ever having learned how to swim.
So, naturally, when Tony made his jokes, she put her guard up. “No,” she told him, “We usually start younger.”
“So, baby spies?” He’s never been a particularly serious person.
It was twisted that this was the thing that enthralled him about her. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut for the life of him. Eliza was so frustrated to the point where she considered putting a bullet through his iron suit. Though when he flew that missile into space, she couldn’t help but pay her respects to his heroic antics. The careless man she’d met before somehow appeared in a different light then.
“You’re a great kid,” Tony said to her after the battle. “We should do this again sometime.”
That was four years in the past.
Eliza warmed up to Tony instantly. The respectful, caring side of him. It was the original reason why she agreed to move into Avengers Tower in the first place. She ditched SHIELD for the Avengers. He mentored her. Tony was the first person after Fury to see something in her, willing to do just about anything to bring it out in her.
Tony Stark made her feel loved for the first time in her life. Perhaps that’s why it hurt so much to see their once so-invincible bond break apart.
Eliza asked herself where exactly they went wrong. Was it something she did or something she could’ve prevented? As so often, there was nothing to explain Tony’s behavior other than the fact that he was just Tony.
Tony wasn’t the man he used to be, and he certainly didn’t portray as the kind of person he wanted to be. He turned from an idol into an antagonist – Eliza wished it would’ve been a sudden change, but reflecting on the past two years she realized it was meant to happen.
Eliza knew better than to try and make him see. He had to fall head-first into the abyss to realize his mistakes. He needed a swift kick in the ass and an excellent punch to the face. She couldn’t do that. Life had to do it to him.
Like Steve once said to her, “If holding onto something hurts you more than letting go, you need to let it go. If it’s meant to be, it’ll come back to you. If it’s not, at least you got rid of the pain.”
By the time Happy pulled up to the compound, Eliza accepted the fact that it would never be the same again. She had to let go eventually. She would give him one last chance, she decided, and if he decided to turn around and shit on it, she would take Steve’s advice and save herself. For once in her life, she had to listen. Holding onto the wrong people was her best talent, but sometimes even talent has to be laid off to protect your fragile little heart.
“We’re here,” Happy snapped her out of her thoughts.
She dreaded every step into the compound. Her heart beat up to her throat. The oxygen supply sank with every passing second.
Eliza took the familiar road to Tony’s office. He was waiting for her behind the door. She hesitated, hand on the handle. She hated confrontation. She didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t her turn to apologize, but somehow she felt like she had to. Sad, wasn’t it? He had her judging guilty without even trying, even when she didn’t need to. She was just that dependent on his approval.
She pushed the thoughts away. She wasn’t a child anymore, she was an adult. Adults don’t make their lives dependent on one person, no matter how much they mean to them. Adults are supposed to stand their ground. She had to learn how to do that. She did it the previous night, she could do it again. Tony didn’t own her.
“You came,” Tony’s voice sounded breathy, hungover, from the corner of the room.
Eliza exhaled, a mix between a sigh and a scoff. “You left me no choice,” she said. “Sending Happy to my place was a desperate move.”
“I couldn’t reach you. At first, I thought maybe you lost your phone, but then I realized you blocked my number. If anything, you left me no choice. I wanted to talk to you without dozens of people around to ask stupid questions.”
“Why?”
“You left before I could talk to you last night.”
“Seriously? You’re just gonna act like this is all it is? Miscommunication?”
Tony scoffed. She saw the bottle of Scotch on his table, the half-filled glass. It was ten in the morning.
“Are you drunk again?” she asked.
“You don’t get to do that.”
“I don’t mind day drinking, I only mind hypocrisy.”
“I asked you here to apologize for what I said.” He took a sip.
“You were drunk, Tony.”
“And I’m sorry for that. I had one too many drinks because I didn’t want to face Secretary Ross sober. Every time I see him, I’m reminded of Rogers and what he did.”
“What Steve did?” Eliza glared. “You both screwed up! It wasn’t just him.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“It kind of seems like you don’t.”
“Give me a break!”
She flinched away. Her eyes fluttered close, her feet carried her a step back, and her arms instantly lifted themselves in front of her chest as if physically defending herself was going to block the words from entering her ears. It didn’t.
Tony’s frown crumbled. He didn’t have the power of empathy on his side, but he saw the fear displayed in her eyes and he felt a sudden ping of regret. “I’m sorry,” he said, quieter this time. He opened his arms - a peace offering. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
“You’re drunk,” she whispered. The tears stung behind her still-closed lids. “You’re drunk,” she said once again. She opened her eyes again. “I know what chronically drunk people are like, so I know that anything you say could either be complete bullshit or the honest-to-God truth. Tell me, why should I believe anything you say right now?”
He watched the tears slide almost elegantly from the corner of her left eye, down her cheek, and her neck. He waved his hands a little. “I’m not drunk. I’ve had two glasses of Scotch to fight off the hangover.”
“There��s still alcohol in your system. Too much to consider it sober.”
“You’re right, I’m not sober.”
“I know. What I don’t know is what you want from me. My pity?”
“No!” Tony scoffed. “It’s just been hard for me,” he began to explain himself. “Ever since Rogers - Steve - left, I’ve been feeling like I failed. Do you know what that’s like? I’m the man who killed the Avengers. I saw it. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Oh, come on!”
“No, hear me out. When that little witch Wanda played with my head, I saw it. I saw all of you, dead. It was my fault. I’m comparing these two right now and I don’t see much of a difference. Look, I’m on my last straw right now.”
Eliza shook her head. “You could’ve told me,” she said.
“I tried! I tried to tell you that this is my worst nightmare come true. So many times.”
“How, by calling me a lost orphan in front of the most powerful people in New York City?”
“You don’t understand,” he said. “I was drunk and angry and I didn’t mean it.”
“You’re right, I don’t understand because you’re not making any sense.”
“I made our friends enemies of the State. I did. Rogers, Romanoff, Wanda, all of them! I killed the Avengers.”
“And you know, Sam, Scott, even Vision, just because he’s in love with a fugitive. Can’t even say their names, can you?”
“Jesus!” He scoffed. “You’re turning my words against me.”
“Can you blame me?” Eliza asked, challenging him.
“This isn’t about blame.”
“What, you want me to feel bad for you?” She cocked her head. “This is on you, not me. If you’re waiting for the pity party, you’re not getting any.”
“Listen, kid. I know you’re struggling and I’m sorry I’m not there for you like I used to be, but this is hard on all of us. Especially on me. This shit show is getting on my last nerve. The press, Ross, fucking Rhodey and Happy- you know, it’s not easy when the world is resting on your shoulders,” he said.
The exasperated laugh was an answer of heavy proportions. “Boohoo, cry me a river, Tony! Honestly, you either complain or apologize, you can’t do both and expect me to roll with it.” She wished she had the same glass of Scotch he was carrying only so she could swallow the horrendously bitter taste on her tongue, but she didn’t. She was glad she didn’t. She wanted to be better than him. She wanted her words to be sober. She wanted him to understand, for whatever the desperate attempts were worth.
Tony shrugged. “It’s true. There’s a lot more I’m carrying that you don’t know about,” he said, “and I’m glad you don’t.”
“And you don’t know about the shit I have to carry,” she replied. Her lip twitched into a sour smile. “But I’m glad you don’t.”
He smirked, but it was fake. The way she spoke left no space for interpretation of just how sour she was. She was mad, offended, disappointed, all of those things and yet, she came. She always did.
“All I need is some time to clear my head, and Scotch. Lots of Scotch.” He poured himself another glass from the small bar in the corner of his office, a small mahagoni table overlooking the New York skyline behind the compound. The perfectly trimmed grass and bushes in the front yard lead to the small forest separating the Avengers from downtown. It was beautiful.
“You need time,” she repeated his words. “It’s funny because when you say it’s hard on all of us, I feel like it only entails you. I had to clean up your mess, again,” she said. “I shouldn’t have to. I struggle too, you know. I’m not saying you aren’t, but maybe you should take your own words into account and think about the people around you. You aren’t the only one who lost, we all did.”
His shoulders tensed. Something changed. Was that regret she saw in the colors around his soul? She could’ve sworn she saw black somewhere, but it was hard to tell with the mess he was and the alcohol that seemed to turn the shade of anger darker, and the pride threatened to consume him.
“I always have to take care of everything. I trained you, Eliza. I made us a team. I got you all a job you could count on. You had all the benefits in the world. Healthcare, stability, housing… you had all of that. It was safe. You guys were safe. And yet - and fucking yet - we managed to blow up. We always do. Everything always blows up, no matter what I do, and I’m tired of watching it happen without having an ounce of control in it. I think it’s time I finally focus on myself.”
“How can you say that after everything that happened? I can’t take this anymore,” she said, and she meant it. “I have to soften all the blows. It’s not even my job!”
“You need to learn how to take responsibility,” he argued.
“Responsibility?” That was the last straw. “I’ve been taking responsibility since the day I got here! I’ve been cleaning up the messes you’ve made again and again. Now, I didn’t mind. We were a family, but lately, it feels like I’m just doing it because I’m supposed to. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I shouldn’t have accepted being used like that.”
“Being used?” Tony asked, voice dangerous as he rose from his chair. “I did everything for you. You got a home, money, and a job. You met people others can only dream about. What else do you want?”
“Maybe some appreciation, for a change. I mean, are you treating Peter the same way?”
“Peter- is this what this is about? Are you jealous of that kid?”
“No!” maybe a little. “My point is that I was around Peter’s age when we first met. After everything you learned over the years and what I’ve been through, don’t you think it’s my right to tell you your place?“
“Pepper took you under her wing, Happy worries about you all the time, I mentored you. I got you back on your feet. I made sure you didn’t go to jail. Hell, I even funded your drug addiction when I didn’t even know you were taking those stupid pills, and yet, I’ve never asked you to pay me back!”
“Oh, please,” Eliza spat back. “What would you ever do without having my mental illness as a justification for your actions? Honestly, you’re acting like that’s all I am. Fuck you, Tony! I thought you cared about me.”
“I do!” he said. “All I ever did was because I care about you. I saw your talent when no one else did. Not even Fury shaped you the way I did. So don’t tell me you’re not being appreciated! I care more than anyone else on this planet. I saved your life, goddamnit!”
“Jesus Christ, Tony, why can’t you just listen?” Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. The water crept dangerously close to the brim, threatening to bubble over. Eliza wasn’t even surprised.
She’d cried more in the past couple of days than ever before. She was a wreck. Time had done its damage. Life had taken its toll. She was bound to break eventually, she just never thought it would happen like this. She never thought it would come to this. The world stopped spinning the day the Avengers left her behind.
“I’m so sick and tired of fixing everything,” she said. “I’m not your therapist. Hell, I’m the one who needs one. I’m not just some messed up orphan that’s become your burden. You were everything to me…” The ocean was too wide and she never learned how to swim. “I looked up to you. I idolized you and wanted to be like you. You taught me so much and yet nothing prepared me for the person you’d be.”
Eliza wiped her cheeks furiously with the back of her hand. “This isn’t you! Ever since you and Steve fell out and the Avengers broke up, you’ve been spiraling out of control. You changed! You turned into this wreckage of a man, a shell of who you used to be, and that shell is filled with so much sour hostility. The Tony Stark I know wouldn’t risk everything by putting down the guests at his party. He wouldn’t hurt his friends and family in front of everyone. The Tony I know would listen to what I have to say. He’d take my worries into account. The Tony I know would do anything to protect me, but you’re not there. You haven’t been there in a very long time, but I lived with it because I still had hope. I had faith in you, Tony.”
He aggressively downed another glass of Scotch, knuckles turned white from the hold he had on it.
“You taught me to always believe in the good in people, and help when someone needs it. I made it my personality trait. What happened, Tony? What happened to make you this way?”
“You don’t get to do that,” he said. “You don’t get to ask me what happened when you were the one who completely lost herself all those years ago!”
“I picked myself up again! I admit that I’m broken, but that doesn’t give me the right to take it out on people. That’s what you do. You blame everyone but yourself for everything that’s wrong with you-“
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“See? That’s what I’m talking about. You won’t listen!”
“Oh, I am listening. I am listening very well. Let’s talk about what I’m listening to, yeah? Except for the fact that you’re trying to make me feel bad for one stupid slip-up-“
Eliza interrupted him with a frustrated groan, “It wasn’t just one stupid slip-up, Tony. It’s a fucking series and I’m done watching!”
“Don’t interrupt me,” he said. “You call me a hypocrite, but while you accuse me of neglecting you, it’s you who won’t listen. You think you’re so smart, prancing around at night, behind my back, with a criminal? And then you have the nerve to pretend like you’re a good girl and lie to my face! That’s what hypocrisy is, Eliza! You’re a hypocrite!”
The words tasted like poison on her tongue.
Tony was nowhere near done. The fire just kept on burning. “You’re jealous of Peter? Well, he learned his lesson after I called him out. You didn’t. You did the exact opposite of what I told you. Fucking hell!”
“What are you even talking about?” she asked.
“Daredevil.”
“What?” The name rang in her ears. Her mind instantly went to Matt. It made her wonder just how much he knew.
“Don’t play dumb now,” he bellowed. “I know you’re working with him. You’re following down circumstantial leads that almost got you killed.”
“How would you even know?”
“I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, remember?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” she tried to justify herself, but it was essentially all useless. Her secret was out. What terrified her most was the fact that she didn’t care.
“It’s not? Who do you think is keeping the press off your ass right now? It’s only a matter of time before your little secret comes out and then it’s Ross knocking on my door all over again.”
“You didn’t listen to me.” She remained dangerously calm. “So I took matters into my own hands.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” He threw his hands up. “You’re not a vigilante! You were with Pfeiffer when he got shot. What did he tell you? Did he play into your suspicions?”
Eliza cocked an eyebrow. “How do you know I was there?” she asked. The truth itched the back of her brain.
Tony sighed, nostrils flared. “I put a tracker into your SIM card when I got it for you.”
“You did what?”
“In my defense, you tend to get into trouble quite a lot.”
It wasn’t that easily justified. He was monitoring her like a criminal because he didn’t trust her. If her heart hadn’t been broken already, it surely would’ve broken right then and there.
“This only proves my point,” he said. “You could’ve gotten shot over a suspicion! And now Pfeiffer is dead and his blood is on your hands.”
“Don’t you dare,” she ground her teeth. “It was Hydra, you and I both know that. You just don’t want to acknowledge the fact that we failed.”
“You’re paranoid, Eliza. I stand by that. People died because of your inability to stay out of shit that doesn’t concern you-“
“It doesn’t concern me? Tony, they stole my childhood, they experimented on me and tortured me! There’s nothing more of my concern than that stupid organization! This is so much bigger than we thought. You’d know that if you’d just listened.”
“I listened, I didn’t like what I heard so I’m cutting you off,” the statement was final, she saw it in his eyes. But Eliza was done for good. He could do whatever he wanted. She was done.
“You know,” she said, “We used to be such a good team. We swore to eliminate threats. What happened to that?”
“Agendas change,” he stated.
“No, not this time. You just want to control me. I don’t know why, maybe you’re scared or maybe you just don’t have any faith in me. Either way, I’m not gonna stop. We both know that.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“Am I? Or am I just not following your orders?”
“Not following my orders is a mistake. Trust me. You’re doing the wrong thing, Eliza. You’re chasing the wrong ghosts. If you do this, I can no longer protect you.”
She shrugged. “I’ll take that chance.”
“You don’t understand. If you do this, I’m gonna stop. If you do this, you’re no longer an Avenger.”
“I haven’t been an Avenger since Berlin.”
The emptiness in Eliza’s eyes put a distance of miles between them. Tony was waiting for her to pull back from the edge of the cliff, to run back into his arms. He was waiting for her to make a different decision, one that didn’t entail losing her, but one look into her eyes told him that he was no longer welcome. He wasn’t just losing her, he already had.
“I didn’t ask you to keep the press off my ass,” she said to him. “If Ross wants to arrest me, let him. I’d rather go to jail than sit back and do nothing to save this city. If you decide to do the latter, that’s your choice. It’s not mine. I want to see them burn the way they burned me. If you try and stand in my way, I might just burn you too.”
“Are you threatening me?” Tony asked.
“No,” she smiled, “it’s a promise.” The door handle felt hot instead of cold under her hands this time.
She looked down. The veins underneath her skin were glowing bright red instead of faint blue. In the reflection of the window, she caught a glimpse of her eyes. She was standing knee-deep in her misery and the pain did little to help her stay in control.
He’s lying to you. She tilted her head. Her reflection moved towards her. The window turned into a one-way mirror. Smoke started to pool at her feet. The stranger was trapped behind the glass. She pressed her hand against it, eyes switching between Tony at his desk and Eliza, clawing at the door handle. A strange magnetism kept her tied to the metal.
She tipped her chin. Leave. Her mouth wasn’t moving, so how could she possibly hear her voice, so close yet so far away?
Don’t look back.
“If you walk out that door,” Tony said, one last attempt to close the distance between them, “We’re done.”
Eliza pulled. “That’s fine by me.”
“Maybe you should just think this through-“
“I did. I made this decision on my own. Nothing you say or do can change that. I may not be an Avenger anymore, but at least I’m not the one that killed them. You killed the Avengers, Tony. You ruined us. Do with that as you will, but if I were you, I’d rethink the decisions I made.”
She wasn’t sure what came over her.
“Eliza-“
“No, I’m done. Paint me the villain, I don’t care. At least then I know I’ve done it right. Here,” Eliza reached into the pocket of her jeans. The film of pictures weighed heavy in her hands. She hesitated, though the decision was a conscious one. “Good luck cleaning up the mess you made.” She let the snippets fall to the floor. Her face was broken in half, eyes scattered around, all familiar faces that once had been there but were long gone. “I’m not gonna do it for you,” she said. “You can lie in this yourself.”
All the strength Eliza displayed at the compound magically evaporated the second she set foot outside. She didn’t even tell Happy why she was running or where, for that matter. She wasn’t even sure where she was going. All she knew was that she needed to get out; she needed to put not only emotional but also a physical distance between her and Tony and everything else that reminded her of the life before, and just get out of the life she once lived for good. It was over anyway.
Happy gave her space, he always did. He thought it was because of what Tony said, but the truth was much worse than that. She couldn’t stand being around him. He would do anything for her and that thought was so suffocating, especially after the conversation, that all she wanted was to abandon him completely. It wasn’t for her good, it was for his. She would always push him away, she would always hurt him in some way, and he would always come back, no matter how hard she kicked him.
Eliza only realized she was running when she came to a halt in front of the memorial established downtown. Their names were engraved golden on the metal plate. The Battle of New York. A silent reminder of the day the sky opened up and aliens invaded the planet. Proof that humans weren’t alone in the universe, after all.
She’d torn apart the last piece of them she had left to prove a point. It was pathetic. Those were just names on a plate, meaning the world to people. The faces lay scattered on Tony’s office floor. People read the sign and remembered the destruction. No one cared about the faces behind the names, unlike they used to.
They used to be a family. The names on the sign slowly grew into strangers. Eliza felt like everyone else, bystanders watching from the outside. Just names, no faces. Those heroes saved the world once, but that was all they were. The memories of happier times slipped further away. It seemed like she’d watched the time fly by from her little bubble like she hadn’t been part of life back then, only a watcher amid the public eye.
She’d told Natasha once, “I’m afraid that if I accept this to be true, if I accept this one good thing for myself, that I’m gonna lose it eventually. Because there has never been anything good in my life before and I’m scared. Good things don’t come to people like me, not without a price.“
How right she’d been. Yet she was foolish enough to accept Natasha’s reassurance. “Stark may not be the most promising person, but I think he’s onto something with this group,” she’d said. “You deserve this more than anyone. You deserve to be part of a family. No one’s gonna take that away from you. I can’t speak for the rest, but I, for one, will always be there for you.”
“Always?”
“Always.”
I guess always was a lie, too.
Eliza wiped her nose. “No,” she whined. “Get out of my head!”
The sight must have looked insane. Anyone walking by could have easily mistaken her for a psychotic.
Why? It’s not like I’m doing anything.
“Then why the fuck are you talking to me?”
I’m… not?
“Liar.”
Well, to be fair, you kind of brought this upon yourself. The young woman looked like her. Same hair, same body type, same eyes, but there was something eerily different about her too. In every nightmare she had, the demons didn’t have a face. She was tormented by memories and self-deprecating thoughts.
If hell was real, she assumed this was how Satan and all her demons spoke because she hated it and it made her want to die.
Did you really think you could continue lying to yourself?
“Peter, hey,” she spoke as soon as the line of her phone clicked. “How are you?”
“Liz?” the boy’s confused voice sounded from the other end.
“Hi!”
“Is everything okay?”
She silently wiped the snot from her nose. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” she said, and then she laughed. She laughed as if what she’d said was the truth.
“Oh, you just usually don’t call me unless it’s urgent,” he said. “So I thought something happened. Is it the Avengers? Do we have a mission?”
“Yeah, about that…”
He’s not gonna understand.
“What?” The school bell rang distinctively in the background. “I actually have class right now, so if it’s not that important and you don’t mind, maybe you could make it quick? Or perhaps call back another time? Not- not that I think what you have to say isn’t important. It always is! It’s just- I’m kind of behind with my grades and stuff and I really want to get into MIT. Spider-Man has really been kicking my ass lately.” He chuckled.
You’re gonna hurt him.
Eliza copied him. “It’s fine. I just- I have something to tell you and all I ask of you is to just listen. Can you do that?” she asked.
There was a pause. “Okay,” Peter agreed. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m officially done with the Avengers. That’s the truth.”
And you can’t change who you truly are.
“What-”
“Hear me out. Don’t say anything. Please.”
Don’t fool yourself again.
“O-okay.”
“Truth is, I’m done, Peter. I’m no longer an Avenger and I no longer want to be. Tony said some things… he said and did some things and I just- I quit. I know you look up to him, it’s your thing. You see him as a mentor and I want you to continue doing that, but my time here is over. It was the second Steve got onto that ship, I just didn’t want to acknowledge it. I tried to stay strong, and I tried to keep my faith, but I can’t. You’re too young, you haven’t known them as long as I have – hell, you didn’t know them at all. It’s a good thing, Peter, because that means you’re still innocent. There’s still hope,” she said.
The tears clogged up her throat and it was getting significantly harder to breathe. “I know you wanted us to be friends and I’ll continue being there for you, but it’s time I face the facts. The Avengers are done, at least the way I know them. I should’ve left earlier. It was only a matter of time before this would all escalate. There are some things you can’t be involved with, like the things I’m about to do, the things you’re gonna hear about me… The less you know the better.”
The cabby stopped where she told him to, his head turned patiently, waiting for her payment. She exhaled into the phone.
“Eliza, you’re scaring me,” Peter’s voice was small.
“Don’t be,” she told him. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m just trying to make amends before it’s too late, that’s all.”
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but it sounds like you need me right now. Maybe I should-”
“Drop my number, Peter. It’s for the best.”
“What, no!”
“I’m sorry.”
The phone cracked between her fingers. Glass scratched the inside of her palm. She watched as the broken device fell to the ground. She stepped on it, once, twice, until it was nothing but flat garbage. The SIM card was broken entirely, and the tracker was disabled and gone for good. Tony didn’t have anything on her anymore. She could go wherever she wanted, do what she wanted and say what she wanted. She didn’t need him and he didn’t need her. It was over. She was free. Though if that had been the truth, she should’ve felt that way, too. She didn’t. Instead, she felt fucking trapped. She felt chained. War was only just beginning.
Eliza stood alone in the middle of downtown New York. There were no walls around her, not a shield to protect her. People bumped into her on their way down the street. The briefcases of businessmen dressed in black suits hit the back of her knee, making her stumble left to right. They were all so focused on themselves, she was nothing but a mere rock in the way that could be pushed aside. In our most natural habitat, we’re all selfish assholes focused solely on whatever target we’ve set our minds to.
The voices were so loud, she could hear the conversations overlapping. Her ears were ringing. Emotions swarmed the air like an army of mosquitos. The tornado was heading straight for the village, strong enough to destroy everything in its path.
Congratulations, Eliza. You just fucked up everything good in your life.
“We’re a team,” she remembered Steve saying. “Ain’t getting one without the other.”
“I think Steve might be onto something,” Wanda came up to her one night. “I don’t know a lot about working as a team, but you guys make it seem easy. Makes me want to try and be better, you know.”
“You might just be the last straw holding this team together,” Natasha said shortly before they arrived at the UN, a dreaded talk on the plane after the events in Lagos.
“We knew this would happen eventually.” The worst part wasn’t the words coming out of Steve’s mouth, it was the way he said them. He sat in the dark, glass of Scotch in hand, blue eyes endless like the dead sea. “In the end, I don’t think we were meant to be,” he said. “Every great hero falls eventually. I think this is it. This is our fall.”
She begged him to stop, begged him to find another way, but to no avail. You can fill in the blanks on this one.
At the airport in Berlin, she looked at her friends for the last time. She had the choice between helping Steve or staying on Tony’s good side. Back then, she truly believed in him. She promised her loyalty. As she watched her friends get carried away though, her heart screamed, “You made the wrong choice!”
Eliza crossed the corner into an alley just in time. She pressed against the brick wall, the darkness shielding her from the tourists and native New Yorkers crowding the streets. So many people, and so little space. The walls caved in on her. There was so much oxygen in the air and yet not enough to make its way into her lungs the way it was supposed to.
She tore the hoodie over her head. Sweat ran down her spine. Her chest ached and the burning was only getting worse. She tried to breathe - she tried to exhale, inhale, then exhaled again. She tried everything she could think up in her fogged-up brain, but the air tore through her lungs like a flaming fire.
She threw her head back. The stone dug into her skull. Her fingers tingled. Thousand little ants covered her skin. She scratched, she gasped, but the animals fed at her like a cannibal’s teeth. The sea brought its waves higher, water filling her chest, choking on salt. She was trying to stay afloat, but it was getting harder and harder to breathe and the current grew strong enough to pull her down.
Tony was going to let the press eat her alive, and in tow with the press came Secretary Ross. She only read the first couple of pages of the Accords, but it clearly stated that any kind of mission had to be approved by the government first. Even just the suspicion of risk had to be shared before hunting down leads. No playing the hero without the official ‘go’. Those were the rules. She broke them, clean through. She was playing the vigilante, jumping into the line of fire, using the dark web for answers. She believed Hydra was still out there and she had proof, too. She was obligated to tell Secretary Ross since Tony refused to listen - technically. Technically, she was supposed to be the good girl and wait. Sit down, look pretty. Technically.
Eliza was never one to accept technicalities. She rather fought for what she believed in instead of following the rules. It was foolish, she knew that. It was stupid, reckless, and lacking common sense. She was aware of all of that and yet when it came to her gut, she knew she could count on it.
Secretary Ross would arrest her the second he found out. He’d incarcerate her. She didn’t even want to imagine what they’d do to her in prison. Being an Avenger she might as well just walk naked into a lion’s den.
Hydra was out there. They were more than willing to kill her. While she was hiding in an alley, tucked away from the world, there were people out there getting kidnapped for human experiments. The only thing standing between Hydra and success was Eliza and maybe Daredevil, but she was the bigger threat.
Eliza loathed herself. She hated her body, hated the mind she was in. None of what she had on her felt like it belonged there. She didn’t deserve the powers, she didn’t deserve the love and care she received. Her existence was trouble, it brought danger to everyone close to her. She was cursed. She knew she was cursed, she had to be.
You care too much about people - you might just be digging your own grave.
“Hey, lady, you alright?” the homeless man next to the trash container leaned over. She hadn’t realized he was there.
Eliza blinked through the smoke standing up to her ears. “What?” she wasn’t even sure the words came out.
“You look a bit pale. Want some beer?”
She shook her head. “I- I need to get out of here.” Her fight or flight response was damaged, she knew that better than anyone. She needed to get out, she needed to go somewhere safe. Somewhere no one could find her. Somewhere she wouldn’t be recognized.
Sure you do. Run. It’s all you know how to do. Run from the truth, run from who you are.
She bumped into someone. “Sorry,” she apologized.
People turned to the disturbed woman running through the masses. She paved the way by elbowing her assailants in the ribs. She ran without destination. She knew New York like the back of her hand, but the many sounds and the people made it hard to focus on the map she had painted up in her head.
Can’t you see everyone is lying to you? Open your eyes. This is all a lie.
“Stop it! Get out of my head!”
Not gonna happen. Sorry, sweetie. We’re stuck together now.
“Who are you?” Something high and sharp pierced her eardrum.
I’m you. The real you.
She couldn’t see five things, only the sun blinding her into oblivion. The white stairs set in stone seemed like enough of a haven. She jumped the steps and through the gigantic doors, not knowing exactly where she was until she smelled the distant scent of candles, rosemary, and roses. Three things she could smell. That was a good start. She closed her eyes and felt the cold of the steel doors, the cool air on her heated skin, and the marble under her boots. The world finally seemed to slow down. The walls put space between them. She breathed. It wasn’t good, but it was better than nothing.
“Can I help you?” the voice startled her. She reached into the back of her jeans only to realize she wasn’t carrying any weapons.
Wide eyes looked around. It was no wonder the voice echoed off the walls. She stood in one of the largest rooms she’d ever seen. The windows were painted with colorful pictures - pictures that told stories almost every child knew. Wooden benches paved the hallway. Marble walls stood high and mighty above them, almost threatening.
The balding man lifted his arms with a smile. “I come in peace,” he said.
Eliza took another look around. “I-“ she exhaled. “I’m not supposed to be here.”
“Please, this door is open to anyone. Would you like to sit down for a moment, catch your breath?”
She hugged her arms around her torso. Her legs did feel kind of wobbly. “Yeah,” she said, “sitting sounds good.”
She followed him to the closest bench. He took place next to her, but he didn’t speak until she found her sound again.
“I’m sorry, I’ve never been to church before. This is all very new to me.”
“You seem like you’ve been looking for a safe space,” the man said. “There’s no place safer than church.”
“What do I call you? Sir? Or is it Father?”
He chuckled softly. “I’m Father Paul Lantom, but you may address me however you like. You want to tell me your name?”
“Eliza,” she told him.
“Well, Eliza, what are you running from?”
“I don’t know, life. I gave up everything I once knew, abandoned the people I loved - it was all I had left and I threw it all away. I thought I did the right thing. But now… I think I just made a huge mistake. Oh, God,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. Fuck!”
“Do you want to talk about it? I promise I won’t tell. I’m a priest, I’m under the oath of confession, no matter what you tell me.”
She wiped her cheeks. “So you’re like a therapist in a cloak?”
Father Lantom laughed. “If that’s what you want to call it, sure,” he said. “I can tell you don’t have the best relationship with church. Would you still like to talk?”
“I don’t know. Faith and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” she said.
“Religious trauma, I take it?”
“How’d you know?”
“Well, religion is supposed to be comforting. You don’t appear comfortable.”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t have to see this as confession. When you say you struggle with faith, that’s your thing. I won’t talk you into something you don’t want to. God wouldn’t want that. You can just sit here and compose yourself in silence if that’s what you’d like. I’m just going to lend you some company and an open ear, if the need arises, to make sure you’re alright.”
Eliza frowned. “What does God want, exactly?” she asked. “Why does he let bad things happen to people?”
“God isn’t a person,” the father explained. “He’s a spirit, a deity. He’s a name, not a face. He’s whatever you believe, whatever you want him to be. Some people might see God in their pets, while others simply see him as a voice of guidance. Others don’t acknowledge his presence at all and still believe faith will show them their way. It’s not about God, it’s about what’s in your heart. Despite what a lot of people think, he’s not in control of the world. Things happen, some bad, some good, and some might be even considered a miracle. But he’s not a hero. He’s our hope, our faith, and with these two things you can turn bad things into good ones. For yourself, for others. That’s the thing about religion, about God, about faith – you don’t have to believe in him for him to have your back. Just because you’re an atheist doesn’t mean you’re going to hell. God doesn’t differentiate. We’re all the same in his eyes. Metaphorical eyes, of course.”
She clung to his every word. What once used to be forced on her seemed like a whole different thing now. The faith she used to have was twisted. It wasn’t God she prayed to, it was the face of evil. Hearing father Lantom’s words changed something inside of her; it opened the doors to her heart. She pulled her knee up to her chest. The candles on the altar in the front flickered with the comfortably cold chill.
“I abandoned my old life to do something I believe in,” she decided to tell him. “Does that make me a bad person?”
“You say you believe in it?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it your purpose?”
“I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure that out.”
“Look inside yourself,” Father Lantom said. “Do you have to do it? Could you do something else and still get the same results? Do you live for it, or do you think about it at night because you can’t get it out of your head? Does it feel right, when you think about it?”
She answered instantly, “Yes, to all of it.”
“Then it’s your purpose. You made that decision for a reason. You wouldn’t have abandoned your old life to pursue something you only believe half of. Also, if it was so easy to abandon it all, maybe it wasn’t meant to stay that way in the first place. There’s always something waiting for you out there, sometimes it just takes some time for you to find it. It may come in the shape of a task, a purpose, or maybe even a person. And sometimes it’s all of that combined into one.“
“What if I’m not sure yet? What if I still question if I did the right thing?”
“You’re going to find the answer,” he stated. “Sometimes it just takes a while. That is something God can’t do for you. He can only guide you in the right direction.“
“Yeah, but how do I know that?”
“Let me tell you this: when the time comes, you‘ll know. There’s no guide to faith. When you’re on the right path, you’ll know because you’ll feel it deep in your heart.”
Eliza lowered her head. “I never saw it like that,” she admitted.
“Hardly anyone does.” He smiled. “Faith isn’t a task to be accomplished. You have to open your heart to it and when you do, you also have to enjoy it. It has to make you comfortable. If it doesn’t, it may not be the right time for you.”
She thought about it. No pressure, that’s what he was saying. She always thought religion, and going to church, always came with the pressure to dedicate yourself to the cause. She’d always imagined it had to be the way Matt saw God – having blind faith, always. Once in, you can’t pull back out. Just like that.
This time, Eliza felt comforted.
“So does God ever send you, I don’t know, signs?” she asked him then.
“The way you’re asking I assume you’ve been asking yourself this for a while now,” Lantom replied.
“Yeah, you could say that. A couple of days now, actually.”
“You met someone?”
“Yeah, how did you-“
“I’ve got a lot of people asking me this particular question lately. It’s like a global epidemic has broken out.” Eliza chuckled. He smiled at that. “Everyone’s seeing signs of God everywhere. It sounds crazy, and it probably is too, but I think it’s nice to hear some positive things for a chance. God knows I haven’t been getting much peace.”
“So it is possible?”
“Everything can be a sign, Eliza.”
“It’s like God sent me an Angel,” she blurted out. At this point, the confessions came straight out of the bottle. It wouldn’t stop. “When I first met him, I didn’t think much about it, but the things he makes me feel… no one has ever taken care of me the way he does. He understands me. He came when I needed him most – no, I needed someone and then he was just there and everything made sense. Or well, the things that need to make sense make sense, the rest is just… blegh.”
“You want to have my advice?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Seems like this is something you should pursue before it slips through your fingers.”
“He’s just so good.”
“Who’s to say you don’t deserve it? Nothing good is ever truly good and nothing bad is ever truly bad. You can’t sabotage yourself just because you think the good things aren’t meant for you.”
“They usually don’t come to me,” she argued. “Or when they do, they break.”
“That’s fear talking. You can’t let that take over.”
“But-“
“Stop making excuses. Someone you speak so highly of seems like someone you should keep around. Maybe he is a sign of God, maybe not. Does it really matter?”
Eliza pursed her lips. “This all just seems so surreal.”
“I know it does.” Father Lantom slowly rose from the bench. She looked up at him. “Think about it,” he said. “And when you need any more guidance, you know where to find me.”
“Father,” she pulled at his robe, “Thank you,” she said.
He smiled, patting her hand. “Anytime, Eliza.”
“Would you, uh, mind if I went to the altar and tried to pray?”
“This is a church. Why would I mind?”
His playfulness awoke a feeling of warmth within her. She nodded with a smile, excusing herself and making the long road toward the front. The cross hung high as Jesus lay nailed to it. She knelt, the steps turning colder beneath her knees.
“You know, when all else fails,” he turned back to her on his way to his chambers, “Talking to God almost always leads to revelations. He listens, even when you think he doesn’t.”
Eliza crossed her chest. She’d seen it in movies, but there was usually a lot more holy water involved. Father Lantom made her believe that there was no wrong way to speak to God. There was no right way to believe. She stared at the altar. How easy it must come to Matt, the times he went to church, the times he went to confession. It was almost like second nature to him. He carried his faith close to his heart, always.
“I don’t know how to pray,” she admitted into the high walls of the church. “But I’ll try because I need something to believe in. I tried to hold on to hope like I was taught. I thought I could do this on my own. God, I was so wrong. I have neither hope nor do I have my life under control,” she said.
Eliza stared up at the angels set into the ceiling. They soared across the sky, watching over her. God isn’t a face. Though as she looked up, she could’ve sworn she saw a silhouette in the clouds. Hidden between the angels and the endless blue, she liked to believe she wasn’t talking to a ghost.
“I’m kneeling here right now with nothing left to lose,” she said. Her knees ached, but she suffered through it. She suffered in the hope that if she surrendered completely, the sky would provide her with answers. “I have these powers raging through me, powers I don’t even know the full extent of. They’re- they’re changing the way I’m changing, and they’re growing, they’re getting stronger, and I’m so scared of what’s gonna happen next. I’m scared of what’s about to happen to me. It’s different when almost no one believes you. It’s just that everything and everyone’s slipping away from me. I’m scared I might even lose the last good thing in my life before this is all over.”
She sounded so desperate, so broken. Her cheeks were wet from the tears, lips salty with the taste. She was on her knees, begging, crying out; she felt like a little girl all over again. Submissive, at the edge of the cliff.
“I’ve been surviving for so long, I forgot what living feels like. No one’s taught me how to. And I can’t live, not like this, not when the fate of the world is on my shoulders. I just need a sign, anything, to know I can win this. That all the pain was worth it. It’s tearing me apart. I don’t know how to hope anymore. I regained some faith in this, in you, and for the first time, I feel like I have a hold on religion. But these people I’m hunting, they’re set out to destroy everything in their path. I can’t keep faith knowing I might just lose everything.”
Her lip quivered, “I can’t lose him, God, I can’t,” she said. “I like to think he came around for a reason, perhaps even a sign from you. He’s led by his faith and his grief, and all he cares about is doing the right thing. He thinks you gave him a purpose. Maybe this is mine. Maybe this is what I was made for, though I haven’t quite figured out what this is. I just know he’s with me and I’d be damned to lose him.
“I promise to worship at your feet every day from now on if it means we make it out of this alive, that these men get what’s coming for them. I’d do anything for that sliver of happiness. I need to finish this chapter once and for all. If I have to die to ensure everyone’s safety, I will. I’d do just about anything, I swear. Just make sure the people I care about don’t suffer for my mistakes. This is my battle. My sacrifice. No one else deserves to die.”
“You have so much love left to give,” Natasha’s voice sounded in the back of her head. “Don’t throw that away. Fight for what you want. No matter the cost.”
“I’m willing to pay every price,” Eliza spoke, God as her witness. “I’m done being in pain. I want to believe in you the way Matt does. I do. I need to win. I need this. I’ve sacrificed too much. God,” she cried. “Just this once I am begging for you to listen to me. I know I’ve committed many sins, and I know I’m probably going to hell, but if there’s at least some salvation left for you to give me, I promise I’ll be forever grateful. I’m going straight now. No one deserves to suffer the consequences of my actions but myself.“
You need to learn to take responsibility.
“I’m your disciple,” she swore.
I’ve been struggling with questions of identity as of late.
“Just don’t let me down, please. God, I’m begging you!”
Who am I?
“I need answers. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find them, but I have to try. What I’m about to do, I’m gonna do for a reason. Please, forgive me.”
He listens, even when you think he doesn’t.
She crossed her chest. “Amen.”
In the corner, where the confessional booth had its place, father Lantom watched from the safety of darkness.
“Lord, have mercy on her,” he quietly prayed. “Give her all the strength you have because that girl needs it.”
Eliza rose from the marble stairs. She was fragile, barely an adult. Deep down, she’d missed so much, she just wished to be a child again. She needed to lay in the comforting arms of her parents. All the things she’d lost, she just wanted back.
Father Lantom copied her, crossing his chest. His face had fallen, a worried crease above his brows. The shadow next to him shifted.
“I hope all that praying was worth it.” He watched her strut the hallway towards the door. “And I hope to God he listened to a word she said or else our boy’s gonna be in a lot of trouble.”
Sunlight fell on the face beside him. Soft features had all crumbled up in worry. She stared up at the father, the crucifix clutched tightly between her thin fingers.
“You think it’s her?” the woman asked.
“Hmm. I could tell the second she stepped in.“
“What should we do?”
“Nothing,” father Lantom stated. “If I learned one thing from listening to his confessions all those years, it’s that Matthew is his father’s son. He doesn’t give up, even when he should.“
“I wish he did,” she sighed. “Just once, I wish he’d stop.”
The metal doors fell shut with a loud bang. Eliza’s steps disappeared onto the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, swallowed by sun-hungry people and the summer air.
Father Lantom gave the nun a gentle smile. “Your son is resilient, Maggie. He never goes down without a fight, and he also never loses. Besides,” he looked over at the empty bench in the back, “I think Matthew finally found a match that doesn’t completely manipulate him.”
Maggie kissed the cross in her hands. “I just hope you’re right,” she said.
The last thing she wanted was to lose her son before she even got the chance to explain herself to him.
Matt could hear Eliza's heartbeat from miles away. He picked her up around the area of Clinton Church, but his abilities didn't quite place her in the confines of his favorite place in Hell's Kitchen, neither did he manage to pick up the father's signature voice serenading her and taking away some of the built-up anxiety. By the time he sought her out, she was on the run again, on the way to her apartment and then, sometime later, carefully making her way to the closest taxi cab.
She told the driver to stop two blocks from his apartment building. On her way, she made sure to take extra turns just in case someone was following her. He figured the action was intentional, just something she had gotten used to, and she wasn’t going to stop, especially not in times like these.
Then, her scent filled his nostrils, followed by the steady thump, thump, thump of her heart. She came in and the world lit up. Her presence brought fresh air into the four walls he called home. Though there was something about the way she acted. Her voice dropped a few octaves, her steps dragging tiredly across the wooden floor. It made him worry. He wondered what happened. Even the last spark he had seen hours before had vanished completely, lost somewhere on the dirty streets outside.
Foggy had poked around, asking him all kinds of questions about the night before after he quickly showed his face in the office. He asked about Eliza and if he could get her number to check on her, just to see if she had gotten home alright. Even Karen worried. Any normal person would be after the events that took place at the party. The worst part was that Matt had to make them believe that everything turned out alright.
“I walked her home,” he lied. “She’s… what can be expected. Stark really got to her but I, uh, figured it out. She’s okay.”
“Man, that sucks,” Foggy pouted at him. “I thought he was the good guy.”
Karen only laughed sarcastically at his words. “Won’t make that mistake again, will you, Foggy?”
“No. No, I guess I won’t. I’m sorry. Tell her that.”
Matt wasn’t planning on it.
“Don’t you have a front door?” Eliza asked from the staircase that lead from the rooftop to his apartment. “I mean, when you said ‘backdoor’, I imagined a ground-floor apartment, not this.” She gestured to the controversial entrance.
“I thought it would be better if no one saw you coming,” he said.
She hummed. No smart remark, not a single joke, nothing. The wood creaked underneath her boots. He tilted his head to listen closer. He analyzed the way she inhaled, slightly quivering with every second drag, and her voice was significantly more hoarse.
She placed what he suspected to be a duffel bag on the leather couch. “I made sure no one was following me,” she stated, concerning his earlier words, no doubt.
“Yeah, I heard.” He felt stupid just standing there, but he didn’t know what else to do.
“So you’re stalking me now?” What was meant as a joke sounded way more serious.
“What if I were?” he asked.
“I’d be offended, but given the circumstances, I’d forgive you.”
Matt chuckled. He moved over to the kitchen, his steps methodical, knowing exactly where he needed to go, yet his arms stretched further from his body in case something might end up in his path.
“You want anything?”
Eliza looked over at him. “Sorry, what?” she said.
“You want anything?” he repeated his question patiently. He opened the fridge, his bicep straining against the white dress shirt that hung clad to his torso. He had long discarded the suit jacket and the sleeves were rolled up. “I’ve got beer, wine, and water. That’s about it. I, uh, don’t keep many groceries here. I have some leftovers from the Thai place around the corner. Oh, and there’s an apple. It’s all that’s left from the gift basket I got from our last client.”
She chuckled. The truth was, her heart hurt. Not just her head but her soul. The new environment made her feel exposed. At least at the church, she had found solace. Under Matt’s gaze which wasn’t even a gaze, to begin with, but an even closer observation of her behavior, she felt naked. She felt vulnerable. He saw right through her, still trying to cover it up to allow her some modesty, but goddamnit, she knew that he knew something wasn’t quite right. He could probably smell the holy water on her. He could smell the sweat of anxiety, the dried tears, and the blood from gnawing on her lip too much. She wanted to run, though she decided against it since he would’ve found her sooner or later anyway. She couldn’t hide from Daredevil, not anymore.
“Have you eaten yet?” he asked. “You sound exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” Eliza intercepted.
He fiddled with the fridge’s door handle. “Are you sure?”
“I’m fine, really,” she said.
“Hm.” She was lying to him.
Against her claims, he handed her a glass of tap water. His nod motioned for her to drink. A silent demand. She lowered her head. It worked. She took a small sip, keeping her eyes on him as he brushed past her, hand ghosting against her lower arm. He didn’t have to speak for her to know.
Once again, she looked around the apartment. The sun was slowly coming down, darkening most of the apartment and if it hadn’t been for the gigantic billboard across the building, she would’ve been wandering in the dark.
The billboard would’ve been quite a nuisance to a seeing person. There couldn’t be many people who would volunteer to take such an apartment for longer periods unless they were, like Matt, blind. He probably found the soft buzzing at night comforting.
Eliza felt drawn to the different pictures flashing across the screen. She walked up to the window to take a peek outside. The glass was slightly milky in its natural state, slightly discolored too, but that’s what interested her in the first place. The architecture of the place fascinated her. It suited Matt, although it was nothing like what she had expected.
She wiped at the window, removing some of the fog caused by the sudden change of temperature inside. Matt liked his apartment cold, she realized. The windows couldn’t keep up with the presence of two people without condensation starting to prickle at the edges.
The billboard showed a commercial for an insurance company. Ridiculous, she thought. He probably didn’t even know about the kinds of pictures that flashed across his windows every night. Insurance companies, condoms, groceries, and from time to time, tv show announcements. Not that he would even care about the show that was put on in front of his apartment. It was new to her, all of this. He had a different perception of things. What she found annoying, he enjoyed. What he hated, she considered normal. She couldn’t see herself falling asleep to condom advertisements, but the colors were nice, so maybe it wasn’t all too bad even for a sighted person after all.
Matt chuckled behind her. “Say it,” he said.
“Say what?” she asked.
“You think it’s annoying.”
“What?”
“The billboard.”
“Well, this place is a shithole.” She shrugged, “but I don’t know, I think it’s a nice shithole.”
His chuckle transcended into laughter. “Yeah,” he grinned into his glass, “Sounds about right.”
“Rent’s probably through the roof, right?”
“Oh, yeah. I got a discount because of the Billboard since no one else would take it, but it’s still a lot. Especially for someone who doesn’t even make money.”
“Expensive shithole then,” she said.
He nodded. “Expensive shithole.”
The apartment's location was unfortunate, but the room itself wasn’t all that awful. Eliza stopped at the small wooden desk that stood in front of what appeared like a supply closet. Files were scattered around, a braille printer to one side and a laptop to the other. She traced her fingers over the rough wood, feeling the dots on the papers. She wished she could read Braille, but it seemed like a hard task to learn.
“Thank you for inviting me over,” she said.
“Sure, yeah,” he said. “How was your, uh, meeting with Stark?”
Eliza stiffened.
“You know what, forget it.” He placed his hands on his hips. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
She didn’t wait. “I quit.” Her nails dug into the paper. “I tore up our family picture and then I left.”
“What?”
“I left. I just… left.”
“Well, that’s- are you alright?”
“He knows about us, Matt!” The words came in a single breath.
“What?” he asked.
“Not about you, about Daredevil.” she had to clarify. “He knows we’ve been working together,” Eliza said. “He’s known ever since our second night together. The press caught wind of it. He said he was the only one between the news and Secretary Ross. If he found out-”
“You’d go to jail,” Matt stated. She nodded weakly. “Fuck! How did they- what is Stark gonna do now? He has to have a plan, right? He won’t just tell everyone. That’s not like him. Tell me that’s not like him.”
She couldn’t do that. She wasn’t sure if it was like him. In the past? Definitely not. After what she experienced in the past couple of days? Who knew?
“He said if I walked out that door, he wouldn’t protect me anymore.”
“God…Tell me you didn’t just walk out. At least not without negotiating a deal first.”
“I walked out.”
“Damn it, Eliza!”
“I don’t care!” her voice cracked. “I don’t care, okay? Ross can arrest me, I don’t fucking care! I realize that now. I don’t care, even if it lands me in jail. The Accords are stupid rules. Why should I have to live by them anymore?” she said. “The Avengers are toast anyway. It’s not like I’m hurting anyone who doesn’t deserve it. I’m not making entire cities float. I’m simply fighting a fight no one else wants to. If that means breaking the rules, so be it.”
He began to pace the room. “This can’t be happening…” One of his hands got tangled in the mess of brown locks on his head.
“It’s not about him. It’s not about me. This is about doing the right thing. You taught me that!”
Matt turned around. “Do you even realize how much danger you are in?!” It was the first time he yelled at her and he regretted it the second the sound had finished bouncing his way across the apartment, and it slapped her right across the face.
Eliza swallowed hard. “I-” she blew air through her nose. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he cooed softly. He took a few steps closer. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
“No, don’t touch me!” She shied away. Her armor faltered. The leather of the couch welcomed her with open arms. Teardrops pearled off the fabric, leaving even darker spots where the liquid slipped from her skin.
He wanted to punch himself. “I’m so sorry.” He slowly fell to one knee next to the armrest. “I didn’t mean it. I’m not angry at you,” he assured her, but his words meant nothing. She was scared.
Once again, she backed away until her thigh hit her duffel bag and she had to stop in the middle of the couch so as not to throw her belongings on the ground. Her hand remained in the air, a silent warning. He didn’t move, he remained on the floor, even though his knees hurt from the wood and he could feel his stitches barely holding on for dear life. He didn’t care though. This was his fault.
She lowered her head. “I didn’t sign up for this,” she whispered. “I didn’t sign up for any of this.”
“I know you didn’t. The reason I yelled-“ he sighed, “The reason I yelled was not that I’m angry at you. It’s not your fault. I just don’t want you to get arrested. They’d put you into special containment. They would lock you up for good,” he explained. “From what I’ve heard, enhanced individuals are considered flight risks to the government, so if you were to get arrested, they could easily use that to their advantage. I can’t let that happen.”
Eliza nodded quietly.
“I was wrong to raise my voice. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. I- I just don’t want you to get arrested because of me,” he said.
“But it wouldn’t be because of you.”
“No, it would be. You know why?”
“No ‘cause I’m not a lawyer,” she told him.
He hung his head, chuckling. “In the eyes of the law, Daredevil is a criminal. I read the Accords after we met. I wanted to know how far you’re allowed to go. You know they don’t just apply to you as a group?”
She shrugged. Her fingers fiddled with the necklace around her neck. She had forgotten it was still there. A nervous tick he had picked up on when he first met her at the police station, out of his costume.
“You know.” He nodded slowly. “I figured. You read them.”
“The first few pages,” she said.
“Not all of it?”
“No, it bored me.”
He shook his head.
“What I read though, I remember. I remember every word.”
“Alright. Well, the Accords state that you’re not allowed to work on missions without the government’s consent,” he said. “You cannot take any cases that haven’t been checked out by either the Secretary or his committee, and when they say you have to pull out, you have to comply. You’re a dog on a leash. Or, the Avengers are. Since you signed them, you are legally obligated to follow the Accords. If you break them, you’re automatically breaking the law. You’ll become a felon, there will be court proceedings, and then, depending on the extent of the crime, you could go to jail.”
“You did your research, huh?”
“It’s not just a rule book,” he insisted. “The Accords are the law now.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Eliza snapped at him.
“I know you do.”
“Then why are you trying to make me feel bad?”
“I’m not! I’m trying to tell you that the rules that apply to the Avengers as a group apply to you as well. You each have to follow the rules, even outside of working together. And you know why? Because you’re not the ordinary human population. The government doesn’t want you guys allowed to roam freely.”
“If I do anyway, I’ll go to jail. Yes, I’m aware. Hey,” she asked, “where are you going with this?”
“This whole thing is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode! These people can prove you’re working with me, that we were with Pfeiffer that night… They have the means to destroy you. Because of me, you’re in danger. That is where I’m going with this.”
“Oh, not this again.”
“You know, perhaps it’s better if we part ways. Spend some time apart until all of this has calmed down.”
“I made my choice!” Eliza cried. “This decision is entirely on me. My life, my rules. I take responsibility for what I did, and for what I’m about to do. This has nothing to do with you. You want to save this city? So do I.”
His breath came in hot, labored puffs of air.
“It’s not just some personal agenda that drives me, I actually care about the people! Don’t make this about you, Matt, not right now.”
“I’m not making this about me!” he argued. “I’m just trying to take care of you. I can’t do that if you’re in the crosshairs.”
“I’ve been in the crosshairs from the beginning. I grew up with several targets on my back. Even the law has known me for as long as I can remember.”
“What if I can’t protect you anymore, what then?”
“Then I’ll die!”
“I don’t want you to die!” He was yelling without even raising his voice, something she had done the night of the party after she found out who he truly was. They weren’t so much different after all.
Eliza wiped her cheeks. There weren’t any tears. She wasn’t crying, she doubted she had any tears left to shed, but she wanted to. The feeling burned in the back of her throat.
“We’ve still got time,” she said.
“Time? We’re running against time, Eliza! I may not be able to read the clock, but I know when a timer is running out.”
“I just have to be careful! We’re in this together now, Matt. We were the second you jumped into that Butcher shop to save my ass. Your desperate need to push me away just to protect me can’t control you. I’m not going anywhere. You gotta deal with that or else we’re gonna have a problem.”
“No, you’re gonna have a problem because you’re the one whose life is in danger and whose freedom is being jeopardized just by being with me. This- this isn’t a joke. This is your life you’re gambling with, you realize that, right?”
“I’m trying to tell you that I don’t want you to leave me!” she cried out. “Don’t you get that? I don’t want you to go.”
Matt’s eyes softened. “What?” he said.
Her bottom lip tangled with her teeth in a desperate attempt to stop it from quivering. Like her entire body though, she kept shaking. It was deadly quiet when she spoke again, and her voice paid the price, “You’re all I have left.”
He rose from the floor, situating himself on the couch next to her. She curled in on herself, too scared to even look at him. He reached his hand out. “Eliza-”
“You promised you’d be there for me,” she said. “That’s what I need you to do. To be there.”
“I’m not leaving,” he breathed.
“Are you sure because you seemed pretty convinced just now?”
“No.” He reached for her. This time, she let him. He tugged at her arm, gently at first, though when she didn’t get the hint, he hooked his arm around hers and pulled her towards him. She fell into his open arms only hesitantly. “I just don’t want to watch you die, okay?” he admitted. “And I don’t want them to take you away.”
“Maybe you can take me away,” she muttered. Her hand began to claw at his chest, her lifeline.
He chuckled breathlessly. “And where would I take you?”
“When this is all over, I mean. I heard Hawaii could be nice.”
“I’ve never been north of 116th street.”
“The more reason for us to change our identities and travel to Hawaii.”
“Sweetheart,” he said, “When this is all over, I will take you anywhere you want.”
They sat like this until the earth finished turning and the sun disappeared. Soft moonlight mixed with the ads crossing the billboard screen. His heart beat steady. She used the sound to come back to her body.
“The world feels so surreal,” she spoke into the comfortable silence. “Like I’m detached from its axis and I’m just spinning there like a broken record, lost alone in the vastness of space.”
She inhaled his cologne. Hints of sweat and rain, and sandalwood on his skin. He was so warm, a human blanket draped over her, almost like a shield from all the evil in this world. His grip tightened around her shoulders; she allowed herself to fall further into the embrace. She allowed herself to drown in his touch.
“It’s like I’m bacteria floating around in an organism, but that bacteria doesn’t have a name yet. I’m just… there. No one knows who I am or what purpose I serve, but what’s for sure is that I’m meant to cause damage.”
“You’re not bacteria,” Matt told her.
“But what if I am? What if I’m the virus? This story seems to depend on my talent to destroy things. Everything’s just gotten worse because of me. Because I got involved.“
“They would’ve found another way to cause damage.”
“If I hadn’t gotten involved, this could’ve been solved without having people die for it,” she said and pushed away from him. His arm caged her, she needed to get out. Matt continued to keep his hands on her. He let her bring space between them, but as she tried to flee, he pulled her back gently so she was facing him.
He didn’t need sight to see that she was burning red. The temperature of her skin mixed with the jitters told him enough to conclude.
“Hey,” he said, “you’re the one who broke this case wide open.”
“I don’t- what if that’s not true?” Eliza sniffled. “What if, in some twisted way, I’m the reason Hydra is doing this? You heard Pfeiffer, they’re trying to make more super soldiers, stronger than ever before,” she said. “They learned from Project Chaos, they saw what Strucker managed to achieve with the Maximoff twins. What if – just, what if – they’re doing this because we survived, and now they’re trying to combine the elements to make something far, far worse than what Wanda and I turned out to be.”
“Yeah, but what if scenarios are just speculation? It’s not real, at least not until it’s proven. What we need to focus on are facts. Plain and simple. Facts are what make cases. That’s our start-of point. Asking yourself what if will only hurt you more. Believe me, I know.”
“What am I supposed to do then?”
“Trust me,” he begged. “That’s all I ask of you.”
Eliza tasted the words on her tongue. She wiped the tears away, though the sticky feeling of dried salt on her cheeks remained heavy. She leaned down slowly, her forehead pressed against Matt’s chest. His hand went around her neck, holding her there. The other rubbed comfortingly up and down her back.
“What does that even mean?” the sound was muffled through the fabric. “I mean, what are we?“ she asked.
Matt ran his thumb along her pulse point. “I’m just as confused as you are,” he admitted. He felt her pulse jump directly behind the skin.
She hummed. “I wish we would’ve met before. You know, before everyone convinced us that life is war.”
He pulled her closer. His chuckle blew through the tiny hairs standing off her scalp. “No one has proved us different,” he said. “Life is war, we were just taught to always fight on the front lines, no matter what happens. We were taught that being soldiers is the default for people like us. And now… now we can’t live without it.”
“We were just kids.”
“We didn’t know any better.”
“Yeah… we still don’t.”
“No,” he smiled, “we don’t.”
Somewhere in the distance, church bells rang out. Reality crept through the cracks in the floorboards and polluted them with its negative energy.
Eliza sat up again. This time, she reached for her duffel bag. “We gotta follow down that lead,” she stated, and so the mask went back on.
The softness of Matt’s features was etched in seriousness. He began to peel the tie off around his throat. It was a fascinating transition. The caring man she knew as Matt Murdock turned within a matter of a few seconds and there he sat Daredevil. He didn’t have to put on the suit, his attitude spoke for itself. There was just something about him, something that enthralled her, even as he turned into a cold piece of stone. She knew there was a broken, gooey nucleus inside – the man he presented on the outside was just an act. He kept the real Matt Murdock under locks, tucked neatly away where no one could find him.
Eliza should’ve felt honored to have him be so vulnerable around her. Yet, she believed there was still plenty to learn about him and this complicated piece of a soul he harbored inside.
“What do you have there?” he asked.
“My suit.” She opened the zipper. “Not the one Tony gave me. It’s my old SHIELD uniform. I asked to keep it before I joined the Avengers. Also,” - the cell phone fell into her hands -“I got a new phone. Tony used mine to track me.”
“So you just keep an arsenal of phones around you?”
“Yeah, why? You don’t?”
“I don’t think that’s something normal people do.”
“I’m not normal,” she stated plainly. “In this line of work, you better come prepared. I have a lot more where this comes from. I could fake my death and no one would know if I wanted to.” Eliza got up. She asked, “Where’s your bathroom?”
Matt pointed in the direction he memorized.
“Thanks.”
Her footsteps disappeared. The door fell shut. She turned the lock twice, making sure it was secure, only then did he hear the shuffling of clothes on the floor. He chose not to invade her privacy. Instead, he made his way into the bedroom. He took the suit draped over the sofa and changed into it with precision. The door stayed open, just in case Eliza came around. He didn’t care if she saw him undressed – hell, he was as open as one could be. Some part of him wanted her to, some perverted part he didn’t want to listen to. Not that he expected an attempt on her life in his apartment, considering no one knew she was there, but he could never be too careful.
His stitches pulled hard. The leather didn’t do much to protect his wounds. He groaned, some sounded louder than he planned to. He was in so much pain, every inch of his body sore, and all he craved was a good night’s sleep. But he couldn’t think about that. There was no time to rest, he told himself. Not until the worst was over.
“You okay?” Eliza stood in the doorway.
Matt struggled with the belt. “Yeah, fine,” he said curtly. His shoulder burned - the one part that wasn’t injured was giving him the most trouble.
“Need any help with that?”
He sighed in relief, nodding. She helped him get the rest of his body tucked into the suit. The leather sat securely around his waist and everywhere else where it needed to; he couldn’t have done it better.
She peaked up at him and he tried his best to reciprocate the action. Judging by her smile, he missed her eyes by miles once again. He chuckled. “Guess I’m getting old,” he said.
“How so?” she questioned.
“My back is killing me.”
“You are, indeed, an old man,” she swatted some dust off his shoulders, “but that’s okay.”
He pinched her side. “Careful. This old man can still kick your ass.”
“Oh. Do I need to have the nursery home on the line?” She spread her thumb and middle finger to the sides, mimicking a phone. “Shall I tell them to book you a single or double room, grandpa?”
The baton flew in her direction. Right before it could hit her in the face, her hand shot up to catch the piece of metal. She switched between him and his weapon, not sure whether to be impressed or annoyed.
“Fuck off!” he said.
She smirked. “I’m getting you back for that.”
Though once the baton was back in the air, his arm was already extended to catch it mid-air, his height offering an opportunity he didn’t miss.
Eliza remembered their first meeting. The way he flipped the sticks of metal expertly, almost like what he was doing right there, in front of her, smug and knowing damn well what he was doing. “Show off,” she said.
Like on the first day, he forced one of the batons into her hand. “Try not to kill anyone,” he retorted.
She saw an opportunity too and she surely didn’t want to miss it. “No promises.”
#matt murdock#daredevil#foreigner's god#matt murdock x original character#matt murdock x oc#matt murdock x ofc#matt murdock angst#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock smut#matt murdock x female!oc#matt murdock imagines#human disaster matt murdock#karen page#foggy nelson#daredevil fic#matt murdock fic#charlie cox#mcu characters#marvel#avengers#reader insert#ofc
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Our Life - Mermaid AU - Scrapped Drafts
Recently I got to talking about the dark fantasy mermaid AU I wrote up a while back for Our Life: Beginnings & Always by @gb-patch. After posting the Family “chapter” of it, I posted a couple of teasers of the next part, but I wasn’t quite satisfied with how it turned out. After taking a prolonged break and looking back to examine it, I think I have a better idea of where I want to take the story, which will do a drastic change up to the direction I was going.
Rather than just leaving the previous version go unseen, I decided I’m just going to share it here in this post, because why not? Just as a warning, this writing is going to be pretty rough and potentially have continuity hiccups as I was making small tweaks to the previous parts due to events that happened in the Step 3 DLC (which means spoilers for said DLC.) It'll also be jumping around a bit, as I'll be showing off a few different scene ideas I tried and scrapped.
Eventually, I’ll hopefully post a full and complete story of this AU on AO3.
As a warning: this is mature writing, with some heavy topics involving trauma and implications of some bad things, so I’m going to slap on an Adults Only warning onto this snippet. This story is more mature than the gameplay for the subject matter.
Since I’m going to be going with the adults only label, I’ll throw in a bonus just for fun smutty extra scene I wrote as well at the end. Hopefully some Cove/Jamie spice can offset the trauma and dark implications that appear in this snippet. I hope you all enjoy it.
...
[Scrapped Chapter 3]
...
Jamie was a mermaid.
Such an idea had shocked Cove when it was nothing more than a fantasy. It was something he had been surprised to have never imagined before Jamie playfully suggested it to him not that long ago.
As a child, his desire to meet a real mermaid had been his greatest dream. Combining it with the woman he loved, the special person who he once childishly believed existed only to find him when he was lost, was so fitting it was almost overwhelming. The playful thought thrilled him and made him feel like a kid again to imagine it.
Now that it was a reality, Cove had no idea how to handle it.
It was impossible to tell how long Cove stared at Jamie, struggling to process everything, before he was forced back to reality when her strength finally gave out. Her grip went slack, and she started to fall despite his hold on her. He cried out in a panic as he lunged for her, quickly scooping her up into his arms.
A piggyback ride was out of the question when Jamie no longer had legs for Cove to hold onto, so he had to make do with a princess carry. The familiar weight of her body in his arms grounded him. It didn’t matter how strange it felt to touch fine scales where there should have been skin. No matter how shocking, her transformation was a secondary priority right now.
Jamie was back. She was warm and alive and real.
And she needed his help.
Jamie could barely keep her eyes open. Her breath came ragged and heavy. She had been worn to the bone, drained of nearly every drop of energy during her desperate effort to return home.
“It’ll… it’ll be okay,” Cove said when he found his voice again. “I’ll take you home to your moms, and then…”
The thought ended there. Cove couldn’t imagine how Jamie’s moms would react to her transformation when he was still struggling with it himself.
A shudder rippled through Jamie, and she rallied herself enough to shake her head, energy returning to her eyes as they went wide with fear and pinned Cove to the spot. “No!” she shouted. Her voice cracked before it weakened, as even what little energy adrenaline afforded her started to bleed away. “No, I can’t go… they’re watching my moms…”
The rest of Jamie’s warning was lost as her voice finally failed her, coming out as incoherent mumbling that grew fainter with each word. What little more Cove managed to catch didn’t make sense, but he understood at least that he couldn’t bring Jamie back to the Leimomi house.
Of course, bringing Jamie across the street from her childhood home instead might have not been the best idea either, but, in his defense, Cove hadn’t been in a state to think straight after she slipped unconscious. All he could think about was bringing somewhere safe right away, and if her house wasn’t then the next place was his childhood home. He at least made sure to slip in from the back, away from the street between their houses.
It was fortunate that Cliff was asleep and didn’t mind his son visiting at odd hours of the night. Cove was still struggling with the sudden shift in his reality without having to try and explain things to his dad.
Not that he knew much of anything to explain.
As a child, Cove often had fantasies of sneaking a mermaid - or mercreature - home. He would hide them in the bathroom attached to his bedroom, knowing that his dad would never look in there if he just said to stay out. The mercreature would hang out in his bathtub and tell him all the wonders of the underwater kingdom while he shared what it was like living on land. Then they would sneak off to the ocean together and have amazing adventures.
After meeting Jamie and becoming so close to her, his childish mind added introducing her to his merfolk friend in those fantasies. Then it would be the three of them going off on magical adventures under the sea.
Eventually the fantasy lost its sparkle, and Cove found himself preferring to imagine spending time with Jamie in the mundane world. Although the idea of mermaids would always hold a special place in his heart, he had grown content with letting them remain nothing more than fantasy.
It was these thoughts that came to Cove’s mind as he gently laid Jamie down into the bathtub. There had been a short war in his mind between letting her rest in his bed or taking her to the bath, but in the end he worried what might happen if she remained out of the water for too long. At the very least, he could make her comfortable by washing the sand and salt off of her body.
More importantly, he needed to clean her wounds.
It had been easy for Cove to overlook all the bruising and scratches on Jamie’s skin earlier when the lighting was dim and there were more shocking things for him to focus on. Now in his well lit bathroom, her injuries jumped out at him and became his priority.
Not long ago, the idea of stripping Jamie would have been a problem for Cove. Fortunately, the two of them had overcome that obstacle together in the most wonderful way, in this very house in fact. It didn’t take long for him to grow intimately familiar with his partner’s body after that, each curve and plane forever etched in his mind.
Which made seeing half of Jamie’s body so radically transformed feel all the more wrong.
The clothing Jamie wore was strange as well. Though it had clearly seen better days, despite the frayed edges and tears, it was a beautifully colored tunic with ornate stitching. The material felt unusual, reminding him a bit of silk in how smooth and cool it was, but thicker. Somehow it barely seemed wet as well, but Cove didn’t care to examine it more than at a cursory glance while he carefully stripped the garment from Jamie’s body.
Removing the tunic revealed Jamie had a necklace tucked underneath it. At the end of the dark cord was a dazzling multicolored crystal of an unusual shape, framed by intricate metalwork. It was beautiful, but what caught his eye more was the much more humble keychain attached next to it.
Cove could never forget the dolphin keychain that he had gifted to Jamie over ten years ago - she always made sure to display it in a place of honor in her room until eventually attaching it to her phone. She had somehow kept it in pristine condition despite how well loved it was. Now, however, the precious keychain was in as rough of shape as its owner, battered from water damage and who knew what else, the once vibrant blue fabric dull and tattered.
Cove had to take a moment to fight back the tears stinging his eyes, his throat choked with emotion. He didn’t have the heart to remove the necklace and separate Jamie from the keychain when she had clearly gone to great lengths to keep it close in spite of whatever ordeal she suffered through. He made sure to work around it instead when cleaning her wounds.
The injuries, though alarmingly numerous, appeared mercifully mild. Cove could only hope there wasn’t something more serious he didn’t see, like a broken bone. The idea of bringing Jamie to a hospital and what people might do to her was too much for his frazzled mind to think about right now.
There were too many horrifying ‘what if’ scenarios popping up in Cove’s head for him to handle. It was all he could do to focus on taking care of Jamie.
There was no issue in having enough waterproof bandages in the medicine cabinet’s first-aid kit. Years of spending most days splashing around in the ocean made it a priority to keep such medical supplies on hand that could handle repeated contact with water. Even after moving out, his old room and bathroom were still stocked and ready for whenever Cove visited. He made a mental note to thank his father for that later.
The worst injury Jamie sported was the red and raw skin of her left wrist underneath the shackle binding it. For a moment, Cove could only stare at the restraint in silent horror at the implications.
What exactly happened to Jamie during those weeks that she was missing?
It was torture waiting for answers, but Cove had no choice. He worried too that whatever happened might have left Jamie too traumatized for her to speak of it, even to him. He had to prepare himself to accept that as a definite possibility.
No matter how much Cove wanted answers, Jamie’s mental and physical well being always came first before anything else.
Cove glared balefully at the shackle. If nothing else, he was going to get rid of that damned thing before Jamie woke up.
The shackle was strangely ornate, made from a dark red metal with etchings of strange symbols decorating it. If not for the four large links of chain still stubbornly attached, it could have been mistaken for an excessively large and thick bracelet. Strangely enough, there was no sign of hinges or a lock, but Cove wasn’t about to question how the culprit attached it to Jamie when they also somehow managed to transform her into a mythical creature.
The answer was magic, as simple and insane as that.
Cove gently placed Jamie’s hand down on the lip of the tub, wincing at the way the metal clanked harshly against the porcelain despite the care he took. He noticed Jamie flinch at the sound, and immediately he focused on her grimacing face.
To his alarm, Jamie thrashed away from him, colliding her newly bandaged shoulder into the tiled wall as her arms flew up in a defensive cross in front of her face, her tail twisting and tucking in close to her body. In her half-conscious daze, she yelped something that Cove couldn’t understand, but he couldn’t mistake the panic in her voice.
“It’s okay,” Cove said softly, trying his best to sound soothing. “Jamie, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s me, Cove. It’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re safe, I promise.”
Cove continued to murmur reassurances until Jamie began to relax, her arms lowering slowly. She blinked her dark blue eyes repeatedly to rid the haze of sleep from them as she finally focused on his face.
“Cove…?” she murmured, still in a daze.
Relieved, Cove offered Jamie a weak smile. “Yeah. It’s me. I’m here. You’re sa-”
Cove didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Jamie suddenly latched onto him in a desperate hug.
“Cove!” Jamie cried before she buried her face in the space between his shoulder and neck. She babbled his name almost in a mantra, the words muffled against his skin as tears spilled forth freely from her eyes. The relief she felt was so strong it left her trembling as she clung desperately to her fiancé.
She was back home. She escaped.
Cove returned the hug just as desperately, drawing in as much comfort from Jamie as she did from him. He could no longer hold back his own tears, and he let them fall free as he pressed his cheek into her damp blue hair.
For a long time, the two simply remained like that, holding each other while crying out all of the pain and suffering they endured during the weeks they were apart.
Eventually their desperate grip on each other softened to tender touches. Jamie slid her fingers through his seafoam green hair, reveling in the familiar softness. Cove shivered delightfully at the feeling and gently cupped her cheek, shifting them both so that their foreheads touched. He closed his eyes for a moment as he simply breathed in the relief of having the woman he loved back in his arms. When he opened his eyes again, he gazed deeply into night blue eyes, which he had started to fear he would never see again.
“Are you okay?” Cove asked softly when he finally found his voice again. The question was woefully inadequate given the circumstances, but it needed to be asked.
Although Jamie looked exhausted, with dark circles beneath her eyes, she still managed to smile sincerely. “I am now.” She leaned in with purpose, and Cove was only too eager to meet her lips with his own.
For a little while, questions were forgotten. The only thing important was simply drinking each other in. One kiss led to another and then another with neither of them wanting to stop when their bodies began to burn as relief slowly gave way to desire.
A loud clatter of metal striking porcelain shocked the pair apart. Jamie had forgotten about the shackle binding her when adjusting her hold on Cove and accidentally bumped it against the lip of the tub. The mood was broken, the sound a sobering reminder that everything was not alright yet.
Cove glared at the shackle before reluctantly pulling away from Jamie. “Wait here. I’m gonna get some bolt cutters and take care of that thing.”
Jamie snatched a fistful of Cove’s shirt, preventing him from leaving. His attention snapped back to her instantly, and she shook her head, her expression tired. “Bolt cutters aren’t gonna cut it.” She offered him a bent smile at the unintended pun. “You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through just to cut the chain.”
Cove regarded Jamie for a moment before he pointedly trailed his gaze to the lower half of her body. “I’m pretty sure I’d believe just about anything at this point.”
Jamie looked down at the tail that had replaced her legs and let out a breath that failed to be a laugh. “Yeah…”
Cove took a hold of Jamie’s bound hand delicately, the chains clinking from the movement. “What happened, Jamie?”
Jamie peered deep into Cove’s beautiful aquamarine eyes that gazed at her with worry and affection in equal measure. She sighed before lacing their fingers together to ground herself. “There’s… a lot. Way too much.” She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I guess the short version is… mercreatures are real, and they’re assholes.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “Sorry to have to break it to you.”
Cove tried to return the smile unsuccessfully, though he did appreciate that Jamie was in good enough spirits to make an attempt at humor.
The smile slipped from Jamie’s face, and she sighed as she leaned into Cove. “And that especially includes my birth parents. Who are actually alive. And merfolk.”
Cove’s eyes widened as his mouth dropped open in shock. Despite Jamie’s radical transformation, he never imagined that it had anything to do with her family.
“So… this is my ‘real’ form,” Jamie said bitterly while throwing a gesture to her tail with her free hand. She shifted the large appendage, waving the fin at Cove a little. Though the gesture was almost playful, there was no hiding the unhappiness from her expression. “My aunt turned me into a human with magic when I was a baby. There’s a spell that should turn me human again, and I’m pretty sure I know how to cast it, but I haven’t actually tried it since I’ve been underwater all this time.”
Though Cove tried to remain quiet to give Jamie the freedom to explain at her own pace, he couldn’t help a startled outburst. “You can use magic?”
Jamie offered Cove a bent smile. “Yeah, one of the few perks about this whole mess.” She sighed, tilting her head back as her eyes drifted towards the ceiling. “They said I’m a special kind of mermaid called a siren. Sirens are super rare because they’re supposedly closely connected to the source of magic, some god whose name hurts my ears.” A shudder rippled through her at the memory, and it took her a moment to continue. “Other mercreatures can use sirens to get stronger. So that’s why they kidnapped me… to use me.”
Cove sucked in a hiss of air, his expression going tight. It took all his willpower to keep quiet so that Jamie could continue her explanation.
Jamie took some solace in the outrage in Cove’s eyes and snuggled against his body, soaking in his comforting presence. He responded by wrapping her up in his arms, holding her close.
“Yeah,” Jamie muttered as she closed her eyes. “Apparently my birth mother’s sister felt the same way we do about that, so she hid me in our world and faked my death using a sea monster attack.” She tried to smile, but it failed to be much more than a grimace as a shudder rippled through her. “Sorry to say, those are real too.”
Cove shivered a little himself, not just at the news that monsters were actually real, but because the haunted look at Jamie’s eyes told him that she had seen at least one for herself. The stuff people dreamed up for movies and ghost stories were bad enough, but the idea that monsters actually existed - worse, Jamie had been forced to encounter one… “I’m sorry.”
Jamie squeezed Cove’s hand, and he was quick to return the gesture. “If it helps, they’re in the other ocean, not ours.”
“‘The other ocean’?” Cove repeated, blinking.
“That’s what I call it anyway,” Jamie said wryly. “It’s like our ocean, but there’s so much stuff in it that’s like nothing we’ve got here. Mercreatures aren’t from our world, but I guess another dimension or something, and they can get here using these really powerful magic crystals.”
At the mention of a crystal, Jamie’s gaze dropped to the necklace, drawing Cove’s attention to the unusual jewelry she wore. She straightened up and used her free hand to pick the crystal up, offering him a better look at it. “I managed to steal one when I escaped.” A small but viciously proud smile tugged at her lips. “And I made sure to destroy the others they had too.”
Her smile faded away as though it had never existed in the first place. She set the crystal down before delicately stroking the dolphin keychain hanging beside it. Although she didn’t comment about it, the action told Cove just how much having the keychain with her during her ordeal meant to her.
Jamie paused upon realizing she had gotten distracted and why, then turned back to Cove, her smile soft but filled with affection for him.
Cove couldn’t find the words for how he was feeling, caught up in too many emotions both good and bad, particularly the latter. The horrors Jamie had gone through and the consequences she was suffering from even now were immense and world shaking. Instead of trying to force it, he took the time to show her how glad he was to have her back home with him.
Gently, Cove squeezed the hand he held in his, as his free hand lightly caressed her cheek. He was rewarded by a slight pink flush beneath his fingertips, and Jamie closed her eyes with a shaky sigh as she took a moment to just savor the way he lovingly traced the contours of her face. His thumb stroked her jawline then brushed against her lower lip.
Playfully, Jamie kissed his thumb before flicking her tongue across the tip. She opened her eyes in time to see Cove turn red and suck in a breath of air, startled but certainly not displeased by the suggestive action.
“Cove…,” Jamie breathed before nuzzling into her lover’s hand. “I missed you so much,”
“I missed you, too,” Cove murmured before closing the distance between them.
For a little while, the only thing they could think about was breathing each other in, their kisses lingering and filled with love. The questions and trauma still lurked at the back of their minds, but for the moment they simply focused on comforting one another, and reminding each other that they were finally together again.
The moment, unfortunately, didn’t last as long as either would have liked. Jamie was the one who eventually drew back, her thoughts heavy and her eyes pained as she looked at Cove. “I… I can’t see my moms again,” she whispered, her voice fragile. She took a deep breath to collect herself before she went on to explain further. “They can spy on my moms whenever they want. If they see me, or, hell, if you tell them about me, they’ll know I’m here.”
Jamie rubbed her hand across her face, her anxiety growing as she plowed on ahead before Cove could fully process the news. “If they see you tell them I’m here, they’ll know to watch you too.” She let go of his hand to gesticulate wildly, the chains on her shackled hand jangling with every move of her left arm. “They let me see my moms all the time because they said if I didn’t do what they said, they’ll kidnap my moms too and hurt them.” Her body started to shake as her eyes grew wide and wild. “If they still have some crystals or make more, they can just come here and take my family and take you and they’ll…” She choked on her rapid breath, tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh fuck… If they tried to hurt you I can’t… I can’t…”
Cove pulled Jamie’s trembling body as close as he could with the bathtub separating them. He murmured soothing words in her ear as he stroked her hair. The picture she painted was terrifying, overwhelming. He didn’t know what to do except calm her before she blacked out from hyperventilating.
Jamie let out a keening noise as she buried her face in her fiancé’s neck once more.
Cove could feel the hot tears against his skin and his heart broke for Jamie all over again. He held her so close it was nearly painful and murmured against the top of her head. “It’s okay…,” he said on instinct, only to wince. “Well, no, it’s not okay, but we’ll figure this out.” His voice lowered, and he tried not to sound as worried as he felt, knowing he needed to be strong for her sake. “I won’t let them take you again, and I won’t let them hurt your family either.”
“Or you?” Jamie asked, her trembling voice muffled against Cove’s skin.
“Or me,” Cove said, nodding against the top of Jamie’s head. “I won’t let them hurt you again.”
Jamie let Cove’s reassuring voice rumble through her and tried with her whole heart to just believe in him as she always did. She knew he was just as uncertain and scared as she was, but he was being brave for her sake like he always did whenever she needed him. The memory of a little boy shaking in the wind even as he reached out for her hand brought a gentle smile to her face. It was this comfort, his very presence, that she ached for the most during this whole nightmarish ordeal.
It took a while, but Jamie was eventually able to calm down again. She shifted back a little, just enough so that she could look at Cove’s face. She managed a weak, but grateful smile before she did her best to focus on important matters.
“They can’t track me,” Jamie said. “Because of that god, they can’t use magic to spy on me directly.” She forced a short, bitter bark of laughter. “Apparently it’s like staring at the sun or something if they use magic to look at me, so they had to find out about me by interrogating my aunt, then tracked me down using the orphanage she put me in.”
Cove immediately drew a connection to the last texts Jamie managed to send him. “Was the person who tracked you the woman who said she was your mom?”
Jamie nodded, her expression growing uncomfortable. “Yeah… One of them anyway. She showed up when I took a walk on the beach to clear my head after my moms told me about her wanting to contact me.” A shudder rippled through her. “She’s…” She faltered, words failing her before she shook her head, her voice coming out weak and shaky. “She’s terrifying.”
Cove gave Jamie’s shoulder a squeeze before rubbing small circles there with his thumb. The sympathetic gaze he gave her told her that she didn’t need to go into more detail than that, and she was grateful for it.
Jamie slid a hand through her bangs, brushing them back as she let out a weary sigh. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again after a moment of silence. Her gaze wandered between Cove, her tail, and some point off in the mid distance.
Cove lightly ran a hand up and down along Jamie’s arm and gave her the time she needed to get her thoughts in order.
After a few minutes, Jamie finally focused on Cove, her smile faint and apologetic. “Sorry. There’s so much… too much… I want to tell you everything, but I just… It’s all…” She used both hands to rub her face, bone weary and frazzled. “They… they shouldn’t know I got a crystal. I hope. God, I hope they don’t know…” She paused to take a deep, shaky breath. “As long as I stay away from Mom and Ma, they won’t know for sure I came back. They’ll look for me around the palace and the outside and then…”
That was as far as Jamie could speculate, and her voice tapered off on a helpless note.
Cove tried to give Jamie more time, but his anxiety grew to the point that he couldn’t help but voice his growing worries. “I didn’t go to your moms’ place, and I haven’t seen them in hours, but we’re at Dad’s house. Do you think they’ll figure out you’re here?” He started kicking himself for being so short-sighted. Jamie herself had warned him to stay away from her moms’ house, but he took her right across the street from it!
Jamie met his worried gaze with her own before looking down at her hands as she flexed them open and closed in front of her. It took her a long moment to mull the thought over before she managed to respond. “They don’t care about you, or your dad, or our friends… They didn’t even pay attention to Liz. They hate humans a lot. A lot a lot… They’re only watching my moms because they don’t think anyone else is important to me. I didn’t tell them anything about me, and all they cared about me w-was…”
A shudder rippled through Jamie as she felt her skin crawl. She curled up into herself instinctively before burying her face in Cove’s neck again, gripping his shirt tight and pressing as close to him as she could despite the bath separating them.
Cove could feel the goosebumps rise along her back as he rubbed her there. Whatever she remembered had her tense to the point of trembling. “I’m here, Jamie,” he murmured into the top of her head. “I’m right here.”
It took a little time for Jamie to start to relax again, though she remained where she was, her fingers still hooked onto his shirt. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m trying, I’m really trying to deal with all this and tell you everything. We should be safe here, they shouldn’t know, and I know I need to focus and come up with a plan, but I don’t know. I don’t know! And I’m so tired and I just… I just want to be happy I’m finally home with you… at least for a little while…”
Jamie’s already fragile words broke apart completely, and Cove felt his heart break with them. He shifted their positions and gently cupped her chin, tilting her head upwards so that he could see her dark blue eyes shimmer wetly. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, then her temple, followed by her cheek. When her eyes closed, he made sure to place a delicate kiss on each eyelid. The kisses were brief as he focused on every inch of her face, eventually finishing with her lips.
Jamie couldn’t help but melt under such tenderness. It didn’t erase the fear, but it was a gentle reminder of just how much Cove cared for her. There was nothing else she wanted more in this world or any other than to be with him, and for the moment she was able to focus on nothing else but how much she loved him and how much he loved her in return.
“It’s okay,” Cove said gently, lightly stroking Jamie’s cheek with his thumb. “We don’t have to talk about it right now.” He lightly pressed his forehead against hers, gazing deeply into his fiancée’s eyes as they fluttered open again. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” Jamie murmured as she managed a small but sincere smile.
After a moment, however, she shifted with some discomfort due to the confines of the bathtub and her smile turned lopsided. “Though… maybe here could be a bed instead? I’ve had enough water for a while.”
Although Cove wanted to give in to the request, worry caused him to hesitate. “Will you be okay?” His gaze trailed significantly to her tail. “You won’t, ah… dry out?”
Jamie let out a weak chuckle. “Merfolk are surprisingly durable. Maybe it’s because they’re built for land and sea, but there were plenty of places that had dry land in their underwater kingdom.”
Cove blinked, surprised for a moment before a thought clicked in his mind. “Because they know that spell that can turn them human, right?”
Jamie nodded. “That, and some mercreatures don’t need it. It seems if you have tentacles instead of a tail, you can walk on land just fine.” She looked down at her tail, shifting it uncomfortably. “Not that I’m wild about either option.”
Cove gave Jamie a sympathetic look. “You said you think you can cast that spell that’ll turn you back into a human, right? Do you need to do anything special for it?”
Jamie sighed and stretched out her tail. “Just some rest and practice until I get it right, pretty much.”
The answer hung between them for a moment before Cove nodded. It was clear to him that Jamie was too mentally and physically exhausted to attempt it now, and he wasn’t about to push her on the subject. He focused instead on fulfilling her earlier request and making her more comfortable.
Despite the change in Jamie’s body, Cove had more than enough practice carrying her to lift her up out of the bath with ease. He didn’t care how wet he got in the process as he held her close. His clothes were still damp from his earlier swim in the ocean anyway.
Cove’s childhood bedroom hadn’t changed too much since he moved out. Certainly, he had taken most of his personal belongings when he moved out, including his pet fish, but his dad had taken great pains to keep the place familiar and welcoming to him for whenever he wanted to visit. This meant that the bed was made and ready to be used.
Cove didn’t care that the bedsheets got wet when he laid Jamie down on top of them. It was far from the first time that he had climbed into bed still dripping salt water. He only left her briefly to lock his bedroom door to prevent his dad from potentially giving them an unwanted wake up call during their secret sleepover.
Having it happen just once was more than enough for a lifetime.
Jamie reached out for Cove upon his return, only to draw her left arm back when the jangling of the chains drew their attention back to the shackle on her wrist.
Cove frowned at the shackle, realizing in the excitement of reuniting, he forgot to finish treating her wrist. “We need to take care of that,” he said. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
Without another word, Cove rushed off to the bathroom and retrieved the first-aid kit, not wanting to be away from Jamie for even a second longer than he had to. Once he was by her side again, he sat down on the edge of the bed and set to work.
It was difficult to properly clean and bandage Jamie’s wrist with the shackle in the way, but Cove managed to carefully slip in some gause between the metal and her raw, red skin. It wasn’t the best solution, but it would at least help keep the wound clean and offered some cushioning between her skin and the metal.
With the injury treated, Cove then used a couple elastic bandage wraps to cover up the shackle and chain to keep the latter from swinging around. It didn’t erase the fact that the shackle was there, but at least with it covered, Jamie could be a little more comfortable.
Jamie looked over the large wrap on her arm and a wry smile graced her lips. “It’s not as cool as a cast, but it’ll do.”
Cove managed a bent smile in return. “Sorry. The only thing I know about casts is wearing them, not making them.”
That got a weak, but genuine chuckle out of Jamie, which Cove took as a victory. It felt good that, in spite of everything that had happened to her, he was able to lift her spirits just a little bit.
When the first-aid kit was set aside, Jamie wrapped her arms around Cove’s neck and pulled him close. He returned the embrace easily, only to be startled with a sudden kiss. His surprise was brief, however, and he was only too eager to lose himself in the kiss and in her.
Despite countless heavy thoughts weighing on her mind, for now Jamie was able to push them aside and just focus on Cove. The sweet taste of his lips, the warmth of his body pressed so close against her, and his comfortingly familiar scent of citrus and the sea wrapped around her like a cozy blanket that she just wanted to bury herself in forever.
The kiss ended reluctantly as the pair came up for air, their hot breaths intermingling between them. Jamie couldn’t sit still even as she caught her breath, slipping her hand up the back of Cove’s neck to card her fingers in his soft green hair. His hair was still soft and a pleasure to run her fingers through despite how damp it was from his earlier swim in the sea.
Cove smiled softly as he enjoyed the feeling and reached up to gently stroke her cheek before slipping his hand back into her hair to return the favor. He threaded his fingers lightly in the dark blue strands, combing down the entire length and admiring how it shimmered like flowing water before returning his hand to the back of her head to repeat the process.
Jamie sighed and leaned into the touch as her eyes drifted closed, her own hands slowing as she lost herself in the soothing sensation.
...
[Explaining the chain]
...
Jamie eagerly reached out for Cove upon his return, only to stop short of touching him as the jangling of the chains on her shackle drew both their attention. She grimaced and drew her left arm back, taking a hold of the end of the chain in her right.
Cove frowned at the shackle, growing frustrated by his own powerlessness to remove it. He sat down on the bed and gently placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Is there any way we can get that off of you?” he asked.
Jamie chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment as she mulled over what she knew. “I don’t know how they got it on me,” she said at last. “And they never took it off the entire time I was down there. They said there’s no way I could use magic to get it off myself, but I guess that could be a lie since they also knew I didn’t know anything about magic before they kidnapped me…”
“How did you break it before?” Cove asked hesitantly. Jamie had avoided answering the question earlier; he hoped asking again wouldn’t be a mistake.
Jamie took a hold of the final broken link of the chain, too mangled to unhook from the other links. “It’s a pretty crazy story,” she said before shaking her head a bit. “I still barely believe it actually happened, and I lived through it.” She took a deep breath then pressed on before Cove could respond. “The really short version is… I got a sea monster to eat the other end and blew it up.”
Cove stared in shock at Jamie. He admittedly hadn’t known what to expect, but that wasn’t anywhere close to what he had been guessing. “Really?”
Jamie nodded, her smile bending just a little with pride. “See, this chain was how they would take magic from me.” She held up the broken end of the chain. “This was a lot longer and was sort of like a magic pair of handcuffs, only the other end was easy to put on and off. One of them would wear it, and I’d basically be a living battery charging them up with magic.”
“It was like sending electricity through a wire,” Jamie continued.
...
[Surprised awakening]
...
When Cove woke up the next morning, everything that had happened the night before felt like a dream, one born of a desperate wish. He expected to find himself back in his apartment, alone. That was why it took him a few moments to realize that he wasn’t still dreaming and Jamie really was right there wrapped securely in his arms.
Emotions overtook Cove, and he pulled Jamie close, almost afraid that he would really wake up or that she might disappear again at any moment. He buried his face in her hair, quietly crying her name as tears came to his eyes.
It wasn’t the first time Cove woke Jamie up with a hug. It was the first time she woke up screaming.
Instantly, Cove jerked back in a panic, afraid he had somehow hurt her. Jamie lurched back as well, only to fall out of the bed entirely, pulling the blanket down with her.
...
[It’s hard for Jamie to sleep now]
...
Jamie hadn’t always been a light sleeper, but due to her sensitivity to sound, it didn’t take much noise to rouse her awake. Now, however, it was all too easy for her to slip out of sleep even when everything was quiet and still. That was why she was already awake when the first rays of dawn peeked in through the window.
Despite waking up in the comforting embrace of Cove’s arms, Jamie woke up tense, her body coiled like a compacted spring, ready to be set off at the slightest trigger. It took her a while to force her muscles to unclench and accept that she was really there with him, that this wasn’t all just some desperate dream she clung to while being trapped in the deep dark depths of another world’s ocean.
This is real, Jamie repeated to herself until she could finally believe it.
Once a little less tense, Jamie focused on Cove’s sleeping face. He looked so peaceful, just as he always did when they slept in each other’s arms. Delicately, she ran her fingers through his pale green hair, reveling in the softness. The gentle smile that slowly grew on his face as he sighed at her touch was familiar and wonderful. He looked so absolutely precious that she couldn’t help but lean in closer to press her lips against his forehead.
The kiss had been enough to rouse Cove from his slumber. Jamie watched as he blinked away the last traces of whatever dream he had been having and focused his beautiful aqua eyes on her. An array of emotions played across his face. First, there was that familiar relaxed recognition as he saw her. Next was shock, as her return after going missing for so long struck him almost as hard as when they found each other in the ocean last night. Then, as memories caught up to him, there was a more complex array of emotions that she couldn’t quite place, but no doubt they were caused by remembering the more otherworldly and unsettling aspects of her return.
“Good morning,” Jamie murmured. She smiled gently at Cove as she waited for him to fully wake up. After a moment, he returned the smile a bit more delicately.
“Good morning,” Cove said, his voice soft. “How are you feeling?”
Jamie made a quiet rumble at the back of her throat as she seriously considered her answer. “Better than I have in weeks,” she finally said with a slight bend to her smile.
Cove supposed that would be the best they could hope for given the circumstances. He couldn’t help but notice the dark circles that still lingered under her eyes. “Did you sleep okay?”
Jamie considered giving Cove the same answer as before, but thought better of it. “Not really,” she sighed and closed her eyes as she pressed their foreheads together lightly. “It’s hard to stay asleep now. I couldn’t really rest in… that place. They wouldn’t leave me alone, and sometimes…”
The way Jamie stopped talking made Cove’s stomach drop. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, struggling to decide if he should let her leave things there or if it would be better to coax more out of her. Ultimately, he decided to encourage her very gently to continue, if only to unburden herself of the ordeal she had to face in that other world.
“Sometimes…?” Cove said slowly, hoping he wasn’t pushing her too far.
Jamie looked off at some point in the distance. She pressed closer to Cove on instinct, breathing his familiar ocean-y, citrus-y scent that was distinctly him, with an undercurrent of something more musky and primal underneath. Neither of them had bothered to get dressed after making love last night, and she could still feel the faint but pleasant thrum of her body that always lingered a while afterwards. All of it was a reminder that she was home, Cove was right there with her, and she was finally safe.
Still, that didn’t make it easy for Jamie to figure out exactly how to tell Cove about the nightmare she experienced in the other world.
Eventually, Jamie returned her focus to Cove once she was ready. “You remember how I told you merfolk use sirens, right?”
Cove frowned, but nodded. The idea that people wanted to use Jamie for anything sickened him.
Jamie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm her nerves. “A big part of how they use sirens involves…” She faltered, really not wanting to put it bluntly, but struggling how to be delicate. “...Stockholm syndrome.”
“Stockholm syndrome?” Cove repeated slowly, his brow furrowing a bit. The term sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite figure out where he had heard it before or what it meant.
Jamie bit back the urge to sigh. She couldn’t blame Cove for not getting her meaning when she was being so indirect. “It’s when captors make their kidnapped victims get emotionally attached to them… even…” She felt sick forcing the next words out. “...even love them.”
Cove froze, his eyes flying open wide.
Jamie grimaced, but forced herself to push on with the explanation before Cove started to panic. “Apparently, the more I care about someone, the more of my magic they can take from me, and if I love someone, they can gain this special power from the god of magic. I didn’t exactly find out many details about that part considering I only know that much by managing to overhear a couple merfolk talking about how much they wanted that power.”
It was hard for Jamie to watch the shock and horror play across Cove’s face, so she focused on her hand as she drew small circles on his shoulder with her finger. “So… I couldn’t really sleep, because some of those bastards thought I’d like them more if they snuck into my cage and…” Her hand stilled and her voice dropped to a fragile whisper. “...Tried to seduce me.”
“Oh my God,” Cove gasped, utterly horrified at the implications. Instantly he sat up, his back going ramrod straight as he began to panic. He didn’t even notice he knocked the blanket halfway off the bed, his eyes focused only on Jamie. “Did they… did… are you okay?!”
Jamie forced out a mirthless chuckle as she reached up to stroke Cove’s cheek, trying to be as soothing as she could given the circumstances. “Yeah. Ironically… my birth mother kept them from doing anything worse than pinning me down or using bad lines on me.” She met his worried gaze and offered a fragile smile. “She’s… she’s messed up.” Her gaze went distant, seeing something haunting in her memories. “She was convinced I loved her… and that she loved me, but that kind of ‘love’…”
A shiver ran through Jamie, and instantly Cove pulled her so close she almost let out a startled squeak. She recovered quickly from her surprise and snuggled into him as they laid back down together on the bed. There was no more reassuring feeling in the world, any world, than being in his arms.
“So… yeah…,” Jamie eventually muttered after she had calmed down a bit. “A lot of times when I tried to sleep, I’d wake up because I’d hear the cell door open, and either it’d be her, or some merman and sometimes when she was getting rid of them…” Her face twisted with nausea. “There’d be blood in the water… and I’d try not to breathe it in.”
Cove couldn’t bring himself to feel bad for the mermen getting bloodied when they intended to force themselves on Jamie. He couldn’t even really feel grateful that her birth mother had fended them off given how much the woman clearly traumatized her.
The only person Cove felt any sympathy for was Jamie. Unfortunately, he found himself at a loss. For a long while, all he could do was hold her close and rub her back, trying desperately to soothe away the small tremors that ran through her and goosebumps on her skin.
Cell, cage, chains, shackles… It was almost inconceivable for Cove to imagine, but Jamie had been chained up in an actual prison. She was still chained. Though she kept her left arm tucked under the pillow almost the entire time they were in bed, even while they made love, he couldn’t forget the shackle binding her wrist for a second.
And he doubted Jamie could either.
Then there was the violence, monsters, unwanted advances, emotional manipulation, and the unwilling transformation of her body… not to mention the kidnapping itself. All these horrible things were subjected on her for a power that no one, especially not Jamie, had any idea she possessed. It sickened Cove to think that he ever idolized the cruel creatures that made the woman he loved suffer so much.
A stab of guilt pricked Cove at the thought when he realized that sweeping generalization now applied to Jamie too. As much as she hated the changes to her body, it was hard to avoid the fact that she was a mermaid. He could feel her tail pressed up against his legs at that very moment.
Cove shook off the thought to focus on what was most important right now - Jamie was not okay. She might have been safely back home, but her body had been warped into a shape that repulsed her, and her experiences had left her with a level of trauma beyond anything he knew how to deal with. He couldn’t even suggest she get professional treatment for either, which meant they had to deal with it themselves regardless of how they felt about it.
A low rumbling noise snapped Cove out of his thoughts, and he realized it was the sound of an empty stomach demanding food. A second later he realized that wasn’t his stomach that made the noise.
Jamie blushed lightly as she placed her unbound hand on her stomach. “I didn’t really eat much there either,” she admitted in a quiet voice.
Cove smiled gently before leaning in to place a soft kiss on her forehead. Hunger, at least, was something he knew how to deal with. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Dad won’t mind making you all the food you can eat.”
A beat later, Cove realized that meant they would have to tell Cliff about everything that happened. He grimaced in spite of himself, not looking forward to the conversation.
Jamie let out a small chuckle at his expression. “Can I borrow a shirt first? I think we’ll need to show your dad some proof if he’s gonna believe something as crazy as mermaids being real.”
Cove appreciated Jamie’s attempt at levity, giving her a bent smile. “Yeah. He’s already gonna be shocked that you’re back even without that part.” He paused for a moment, his smile fading away. “Or the rest of it…”
Jamie nodded, her expression going somber. She saw the growing concern on Cove’s face and guessed where his train of thought was headed. “It’s… okay. To tell him everything I’ve told you, I mean. Even the… really unpleasant stuff.” She scrunched in on herself as she looked down. “I’ll be okay as long as you’re with me.”
Cove pulled Jamie a little closer before rubbing her shoulder soothingly. “I’m not going anywhere without you, but are you sure you’ll be okay?”
Jamie closed her eyes and sighed, her conviction wavering. “Maybe? I don’t even know… I mean… there’s still so much to tell you about what happened, and I want to tell you, but I also just want to forget it happened at all… but they’re still watching my moms, and I can’t even tell them I’m back and safe without putting them and everyone else in danger and risking them coming back for me and…”
Her rambling dissolved into wordless sniffles as Jamie could no longer hold back her tears. When Cove pulled her close, she buried her face into his shoulder and cried. For a while, that was all she could do.
No, Jamie wasn’t okay at all.
...
[Making love to a mermaid]
...
Cove couldn’t help but marvel at the way Jamie opened up underneath his fingers. It was strange how seamless the tail appeared to be up until he started rubbing in just the right spot. Fine scales parted on his gentle touch to reveal a slit of pink that he had grown intimately familiar with.
Jamie moaned as she felt Cove’s fingers delicately slide across the folds of her womanhood once it was uncovered. Despite the loss of her legs, his touch in her most intimate place still sent familiar waves of pleasure throughout her body. When his wandering fingers discovered that even as a mermaid she still had a clit, he wasted no time in lavishing his attention on the sensitive nub. The jolt of pleasure was so sudden and strong after going so long without his touch that she had to cover her mouth to stifle a cry as her hips bucked uselessly against his hand.
Cove didn’t want Jamie to stifle her voice. He wanted to hear her cry out in pleasure and babble his name senselessly while he drove her to the brink as she always did, but he knew if they were too noisy they would wake his dad up. The last thing in the world he wanted was for anything to stop them from making love after they had been separated for so long.
Instead of regretting that they had to hold back, Cove focused on pleasuring Jamie. He bent down, using his mouth on her as well as his fingers. Despite the transformation, the taste of her core was the same mixture of sex and sweetness that he could never get enough of. Her sweet spots were still the same as well, and he delighted in how he made her shudder and mewl when he teased those places with his fingers or tongue.
Jamie couldn’t stop moaning Cove’s name around her hand, practically biting it in her desperate attempts to keep quiet. After weeks without such intimacy and how much she had longed for him in all that time, her body responded more strongly than she was prepared for.
She was wound tight, too tight, and it was all too soon that the tension snapped, her back arching like a drawn bow as the world went white and she screamed into her hand.
Cove enjoyed watching Jamie writhe in the throes of her orgasm beneath him. He never tired of the sight of her absolutely overwhelmed with pleasure, knowing he was the one responsible for making her feel so good.
When Jamie finally fell slack onto the bed, boneless and panting for air, Cove withdrew his fingers from her. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before wiping his hands on his pants as he sat up, turning his focus back to his fiancée’s flushed face. “How are you feeling?”
Jamie blinked blurrily at Cove, still deliciously dazed. She noticed the smug bent to his smile, which told her he already knew the answer, and he was quite pleased with himself for it. That look was so damn sexy. “Wonderful,” she sighed as she gave him a tired smile of her own.
When Jamie reached for him, Cove was only all too eager to embrace her, lying down beside her on the bed. Though their chests pressed close, he tried to keep his hips at a slight distance so that she wouldn’t notice his arousal. He didn’t want to make her feel obligated to focus on his needs while she was still basking in the afterglow. He lightly stroked her back and just relished the fact that he was finally holding the woman he loved in his arms once again.
“I love you,” Jamie murmured before nuzzling into Cove’s neck. She heard his heartbeat pick up as it always did when she said those words, and her own pulse quickened when she heard him murmur in her ear in return.
“I love you, too,” Cove said, his voice growing thick with emotion. “I love you so much.”
They drew closer, their mouths meeting in soft, leisurely kisses. It didn’t take long for those kisses to grow hotter, deepening as their hunger for each other was far from saited.
Jamie slid her hand down along her fiancé’s chest before tugging upward on his shirt. Cove was quick to comply with her silent request, breaking their latest kiss only long enough to strip the offending garment and toss it aside before seizing her mouth with his once again.
Once again, Jamie trailed her hands down Cove’s chest, but she didn’t linger there long, quickly crossing the plane of his stomach to blindly seek out the buckle of his belt. That, too, Cove was quick to remove. He didn’t bother waiting for her to go after the next garment and just stripped off the rest of his clothes, leaving nothing left to separate them.
Cove failed to stifle a moan when Jamie gently took a hold of his hard manhood. She used only one hand, the one not restrained by the shackle, but she knew exactly how to touch him to make him shudder deliciously against her palm.
To his surprise, Jamie was already trying to guide him to her, silently urging him to enter her already. Usually, they took their time, but she was unexpectedly impatient tonight.
Cove took a hold of her shoulders gently, breaking apart from their current kiss to gaze deep into her heavy-lidded blue eyes. “J-Jamie?” his voice shook, husky with desire. He tried to think of how to phrase his concern, but words failed him.
Fortunately, Jamie caught the implication anyway from his hesitation. “Cove, please…,” she said, her voice soft and almost heartbreakingly needy. “Make love to me. I need you.”
There was no way Cove could turn down such a request. Although he was still concerned, he carefully adjusted their positions so that the tip of his manhood hovered just inches away from her entrance. She seemed wet enough from his earlier ministrations, but he touched her again with his fingers to be sure.
Jamie buried her face against Cove’s shoulder to muffle her moans as his fingers gently pumped in and out of her. First it was two fingers, but soon it was three stretching her out inside to prepare her for more. She felt so full, so hot, and so touched by how careful he was not to hurt her.
Despite how wonderful Cove made her feel with fingers alone, Jamie wanted more. Shakily, she touched his hard heat once again, trailing her fingers upward along the length until she could run her thumb across the tip, feeling his own wetness already leaking out.
Cove had to quickly bury his face in Jamie’s shoulder to stifle a cry against her skin. Her touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through his entire body. His hips instinctively rocked into her hand as she gently slid it down and then back up again, quickly settling into a familiar rhythm.
Jamie couldn’t help but smile at how strongly Cove was reacting to her touch. She wasn’t the only one who was especially sensitive right now, it seemed.
It took Cove a moment to compose himself, and he leaned in to murmur directly into her ear, his voice low and ragged. “J-Jamie… if you keep doing that… I… I’m not g-gonna last.”
Jamie felt a delicious shiver run through her at the way Cove sounded, so breathless and aroused, and how his breath caressed her ear. After a moment, she nodded as she reluctantly let go of his manhood and placed her hand on his hip instead. As much as she wanted to pleasure him, her body ached to feel him inside her far more.
Cove sighed in a mixture of relief and disappointment when Jamie stopped. Truthfully, he wouldn’t have complained if she continued. Sometimes during their lovemaking sessions, they were so focused on making each other feel good that they would exhaust themselves before they could indulge in penetrative sex. Still, he understood - after everything they had been through this past month, he couldn’t deny that he was dying to be inside her just as badly as she wanted him there.
It took a little time to adjust to the changes in their usual positions that Jamie’s transformed body necessitated. The angle Cove needed to take was different, and she had no legs to wrap around him, leaving him to do the straddling instead. The feeling of her scales, however fine, against his thighs was also strange, but she still felt warm, soft, and smooth and above all else this was Jamie.
No matter what Jamie looked like, no matter how her body changed and how they had to adjust to those changes, Cove could never lose sight of the fact that the woman lying underneath him right now was the most important person in his world.
Despite the way her body burned, Jamie couldn’t help but notice the awkwardness in the way Cove moved, all because of her body. It made her unpleasantly aware of the wrongness of this new form, of a body that she was supposedly born to have that was just not her. The tail was so stiff, so constricting compared to her legs. She hated it so much.
“Jamie?” Cove asked, noticing the frown that had formed on his fiancée’s face as her gaze grew distant. He paused to cup her cheek, drawing her attention back to him. “Are you okay?”
Jamie blinked then felt a pang of guilt for the unpleasant direction her mind had wandered when they were about to make love. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she reached up to place her hand over his. “I want to continue, really. I… I really need you right now. I really do. It’s just…” She pointedly directed her gaze down to the lower half of her body. “I just hate this… thing.”
Cove felt his heart go out to Jamie. He bent down to kiss her, soft and chaste despite the heat of arousal that throbbed between them. “I get it,” he said softly as their eyes met again. “We’ll find a way to fix this, I promise.”
Jamie lost herself in another kiss, this one longer but just as tender as the last. “Cove…,” she murmured against his lips.
Words failed Jamie. All she could do was try to silently convey all of the intense feelings swelling inside her heart with her eyes alone as she stroked the back of Cove’s hand with her thumb. She lost herself in his mesmerizing eyes of aquamarine that she had feared too many times that she might never see again.
Fortunately, Cove understood that Jamie wanted him to continue. After giving her just one more tender kiss, he returned his focus to their positioning. Carefully, so very carefully, he eased himself inside of her, making sure to move as slow as his body would allow. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her, and although he hadn’t noticed any real difference inside her when exploring her with his mouth and fingers earlier, he didn’t want to risk misjudging just how much she could handle right now.
The pressure was heavenly. Jamie had to bite her lower lip to keep quiet as Cove slowly, deliciously filled her up inside. Despite the changes and all the things that were different and wrong, the feeling of his hard heat filling her to the hilt was exactly as wonderful as it was supposed to be. She struggled to keep her voice low as she moaned his name and wrapped her unbound arm behind his neck, pulling him closer.
Cove answered with a throaty groan of his own shaped around Jamie’s name. The exquisitely familiar tight heat wrapped around where he was most sensitive was almost too much. He wasn’t sure he could last long enough to make sure she came before he did.
A plan of action quickly took shape. Cove took care to balance his weight on one arm, freeing his other hand to reach between them, seeking out that little sensitive nub he knew drove Jamie crazy. He watched her blue eyes fly open wide as he touched her there while he slowly moved his hips.
The delicious friction both from within and without was almost too much for Jamie. She pulled Cove as close as she could so that she could bury her face in his shoulder to muffle the pleasured cries that fought to escape her. His thrusts were slow, delicate, but his fingers worked her in a faster rhythm, creating a contrast that made her squirm helplessly underneath him.
Cove struggled to keep his voice low as he murmured words of affection in Jamie’s ear, punctuated by ragged breaths and husky moans of her name. It felt so wonderful being inside her, the delicious heat of her body wrapped so tightly around him already so intense, but there was also the way she writhed against him, grinding their chests together. Although the noises she made were muffled, he could feel the vibration of her voice against his skin, each especially loud stifled cry letting him know exactly how good he made her feel.
What had changed didn’t matter - the only things that mattered were the pleasure and love they shared with one another. In that moment, they were able to forget everything else and lost themselves in each other.
#Our Life Beginnings & Always#Our Life#ourlifeba#Cove Holden#Jamie Last#Jamie Leimomi#Mermaid AU#My Writing
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I’d argue the worst part of ‘violent perv’ Butch is it reflects how the author views the girls, especially Buttercup. These are girls who have good in their heart and stand for what’s right, why would they keep around a guy who is constantly fighting and constantly horny (and gross about it)? Why do they (and it’s usually BC) never see themselves as deserving better and just accept that Butch is the guy they’re meant to fall for/be with? WHERE’S THE PROFESSOR HE WOULDN’T ALLOW THIS? Surely Miss Bellum or Ms Keane would intervene at this point seeing as they intervened once upon a time. It just makes my feel icky for the girls and sad they’d have to end up with that kind of Butch, especially when in terms of BC, it’s just to quickly push the greens together so the focus can go back to the reds being absolute gods. On a better note, I love your additions!! Especially escargot I love the thought that it’s forbidden food at the rowdy home.
EXACTLY.
In terms of Buttercup, it’s always the most annoying thing in the world. It disregards any character growth she went through in the show regarding her aggression, highlights her personality when she was groomed by ace, and ignores how important her family’s opinion is to her. Ppl always make her excessively violent or verbally degrading towards Butch (ig as Butch’s punishment even tho it never fixes the behavior), and I’m there like 🫢🫢 “is it suppose to be funny??” “are they going to get over themselves??”
I don’t know if ppl enjoy it for the “taming the beast” fantasy, but the taming part is always like:
Butch sat at the bar. His drink was empty. A girl across the way was looking at him.
I should fuck her, he thought. She’s was a ten and so obviously desperate for his attention, but he knew her type of girl and he wasn’t interested anymore.
Wait!? He wasn’t interested anymore? When did that happen?
He thought of Buttercup. She was an unlikeable bitch, who was still feminine and hot. She was also the one bitch who could kick his ass and drink him underneath the table. And she was mouthy. He liked mouthy. And he wanted her, but she was always saying no to him. How was he supposed to sleep with her, if she was too strong to fight off his advances?
He slammed his drink down on the bar.
He was done being a playboy. He needed to find Buttercup.
And then it’s like:
“Butterbitch, I love you.”
“No, fuck you. I bet you have a small dick. I’m badass and you suck.” Buttercup said with feminine tears in her eyes because she was badass but still a girl. She struggled against his rougher masculine body as he pinned her to a wall. This surprised her because she was so strong and tough, and no one—no man—could hold her down.
A wolfish smile spread across his face because Butch was a lone wolf kind of bad boy, “you wanna bet?”
[aggressive but incredibly vanilla sex scene]
And then it’s like:
“Blossom, me and asshole had sex, so I guess he’s my friend-with-benefits now. I’m still feminine, but not as feminine as you, so the sex is rough. Also, we’re both too cool for labels, even though the plot is clearly setting us up as a couple, so if you call him my boyfriend before the shitty half paragraph 15 chapters from now establishing that, I will punch a hole through your downtown hip loft and storm out.”
“As long as you don’t cuss, I will literally never care about or hear anything you ever say to me, Buttercup.“ Blossom rolled her eyes, “Now, I’m too busy to focus on your boyfriend. Unfortunately, his older, hotter, and more mature older-dad-brother has figured out a riddle the fanfic author spent two minutes googling, and has demonstrated that he’s smarter then me. This is distressing because I find his degrading, patronizing gloating hot.”
“HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!” Buttercup growled like a wild woman, punching a wall. Her green eyes sparked with fury, but the look was nothing like Blossom’s. Her incredibly pink globes cut Buttercup like ice, reminding them all that she had ice powers and stopping Buttercup in her tracks. Buttercup was intimidated, which, for the 100th time in this story, showed that while Buttercup was supposedly the toughest, wildest, and most violent powerpuff girl, Blossom was still the better one in charge.
A second ticked by before Buttercup stormed out.
“I’ll never understand why she hates me,” Blossom sighed, a single tear running down her left cheek, “I need to call Brick.”
“I’ll always be there for—“ Bubbles tried to say something from her corner of the room after the author realized they had forgotten to mention her in awhile.
“Bubbles, stop. Don’t get involved. Please,” Blossom smiled sadly because she was always sad and had ice powers and the weight of the world on her shoulders, “shouldn’t you be getting ready for your date with Boomer, the nice brother we also haven’t mentioned in awhile?”
“Boomie!” Bubbles cried, snuggling her stuff animals because she was mentally still a child, “You’re not dumb!”
And he wasn’t. In fact, he had a degree in Astro physics he was just hiding for some reason or something. Idk, Brick was still smarter tho.
And then, to be extra salty, the fic reviews are always like:
rrbboyzlovrrs: this is LITERALLY the best thing I have ever read. Like butch is so hot and omg I love how you added the blues, so cute. >///< and go blossom!!!! She really went off!! I hope brick makes her feeelllll better~~ update soon!
#enjoy my spoof on shitty fanfics#this is my magnum opus#also the escargot thing was from the comics!!#Butch didn’t like it#but boomer and brick were good with the food lmaoooo#anon asks
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The taste of Red wine masterlist
A/N: Heyooo, I’ve finally pulled it together and made this master list for my first ever written fanfiction! Whoop whoop!✋🏽🤠 I’ll try my best to keep this updated whenever I posted a new chapter!
Pairing: Min Yoongi (may change in the future) x Female! Reader
Contains: Written in 1st person point of view, abuse, alcohol, drugs, bad language, cursing, cussing, dark themes, romance, drama, Y/N’s in a toxic and manipulative relationship with her boyfriend, Mafia AU, some suggestive themes, mature content, brutality, physical violence, shooting, guns, weapons.
Warnings: Kidnapping, bruises, alcohol, drugs, smoking, cigarettes, sexual assault, blood, physical violence, gaslighting, gang fights, stabbing and whole lots of bad stuff that I don’t how to describe
Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that this is all fanmade and it’s fanfiction. All events and things I wrote about in this Mafia alternative universe are purely based on my imagination and fiction. This story is for entertainment purposes and nothing else. I only own Lee Meílíng Y/N and other villains mentioned in said chapters. I do not own BTS or Bighit Entertainment/HYBE Labels or the other K-pop idols, or artists. I’m also not associated with any of the said artists in my fanfiction. I do not support The Mafia or any of the violence, crimes, or actions that have happened in this story.
List of chapters:
Zero - Prologue, (don’t read it. It’s so awful💀)
One, Two, Three,
Four, Five, Six (preview),
Six, Seven (preview), Seven,
Eight, Nine (part I), Nine (part 2),
Ten, Eleven, Twelve,
🍷
Thanks so much for the likes, questions, comments and all the support on this series, it means a lot to me. ❤️
#Yoongi Fanfic: The Taste of Red Wine#Masterlist: TTORW#Yoongi Imagine#Yoongi x Y/N#Yoongi x Reader#Yoongi#Min Yoongi#Suga x Reader#Suga x Y/N#Min Suga#BTS#BTS Fan Fiction#BTS Fanfiction#Kpop Fanfiction#Mafia AU#BTS Mafia AU#Bangtan Seonyandan#Min Yoongi Fanfic#K-pop#K-pop Fanfic
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➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖
Chapter 40 - Soul Connection.
Episode 5.
Dalton: *About 10 minutes later he locked them into the house, closing the door behind them before kicking his boots off*
You can wait here, or you can head upstairs with me... I might be a while...
I gotta use the bathroom as well...
Adrian: ......
Dalton: I mean... if you wanna see my room?
Adrian: ... sure *he quickly kicked his boots off, and followed Dalton up the stairs*
Dalton: *He quickly led Adrian into his room, and kicked the bags under the bed* Well, it's nothing fancy, but make yourself at home...
I'll be right back... there's an ashtray on the desk if you need it.
Adrian: *He nodded confirming and looked around in the dimmed light, the room only lit up by a small desk lamp, although there were multiple lamps in the room, making it a bit hard to see wat was going on, specially in the area around the bed*
Dalton: *He nodded confirming then exited the room*
Adrian: *He sighed softly and stuck his hands in his pockets, awkwardly looking around the room, till Dalton re-entered a couple minutes later*
Dalton: I'm ready *he smiled softly*
Adrian: *He nodded lightly and turned off the small desk lamp as he passed it on his way out the room* I like your room
Dalton: *He burst out a light chuckle* You looked very uncomfortable for someone liking his surroundings
!Adrian: No... it's just.... I get awkward when people leave me alone in their private space
Dalton: *He chuckled lightly* Okay, I'll try to keep that in mind.
*A couple hours later, a couple of tipsy boys, were hanging out on Adrian's floor, listening to records, drinking and smoking, lost in conversation, when Adrian suddenly noticed and odd behavior from Dalton*
Dalton: *Sitting with a goofy, yet uncomfortable grin on his face, looking out of place, and if he was questioning everything around him*
Adrian: ..... are you alright?
Dalton: I may have made a mistake *it burst out of him, followed by a nervous, yet amused chuckle*
Adrian: .... be more specific, please?
Dalton: I bought a lube... uh some cinnamon heating stuff!
And I thought it was a good idea to try it out... you know, just for fun, I was curious if it really would heat and "tickle" as the store clerk said it would.... *his eyes getting wide and intense* It does!
Adrian: *Burst out an amused chuckle* When did you put that on?
Dalton: when I was in the bathroom 5 minutes ago! My pants are on fucking fire!
Adrian: *Burst out a warm laughter* does it hurt?
Dalton: Nooooooh *he shook his head firmly* but I think I might need a shower if it continues!
Adrian: *More laughing*
Dalton: You should try it! *He nodded eagerly*
Adrian: No! It sounds like you're in trouble! Why would I wanna-
Dalton: Please man! *he chuckled amused* I need to know if this is normal, or if I should be heading to the hospital! Holy fuck it's hot!
Adrian: *He laughed even louder, but at the same time started worrying a bit* Give me the tube!
Dalton: It's in the bathroom!
Adrian: *He chuckled lightly and sipped his beer, then slowly got up and made his way to the bathroom.
He grabbed the tube by the sink and read the label "extra hot" he chuckled amused and took the tube with him back into the house*
It says extra hot! *he paused as he noticed there were no Dalton* .... Dalton?
Dalton: I'm upstairs *a soft chuckling* I opened a window... I'm laying down for a moment, it's so fucking hot man! I think I was greedy with the amount!
Adrian: *He laughed loudly* It can't be THAT bad!
Dalton: Well! *Soft whimpering* You try for yourself!
Adrian: *He looked at the lube, looked towards the ceiling, looked at the lube* It can't be THAT bad *he chuckled deeply and opened the tube, squirting a small amount in his palm, then sighed lightly, shaking his head as he slowly dragged down his pants, rubbing the lube on himself with a soft chuckle.
Nothing.
Hm.
He quickly dragged his pants back up and zipped them* I feel nothing! *he yelled back at Dalton*
Dalton: Yeah, me neither at first, that's why I got greedy.... but clearly greed isn't good!
Adrian: *He snorted lightly and shook his head, grabbing his beer from the floor, quickly washing down the rest of it, then climbed up the ladder, surprised to find Dalton sitting on his bed, watching porn... from Adrian's laptop standing on the bedside shelf*
Dalton: *A soft moan escaping him, not having noticed Adrian yet*
Adrian: *He reached backwards to grab the ladder, in an attempt to escape, but hit his knuckles against it instead* Ahh!
Dalton: *He turned and noticed Adrian* I'm sorry, I! *He quickly lifted the blanket and covered his bottom half* I know this is perhaps crazy inappropriate but, I thought I could *he nodded at the screen, people faintly moaning* I just... I'm so fucking ... I'll go take a shower! I'm sorry!
Adrian: No it's okay... it's totally okay, don't worry about it... *he chuckled lightly* I don't want you to suffer *he snorted lightly* is it really THAT bad?
I mean, I don't feel a thing...
Dalton: I'm worried it's an allergic reaction man... I'm so.... I mean *he chuckled lightly* Fuck I'm so horny! I don't know if it's a combination of not having had any real physical touch for so long, or if this lube is attacking my privates and I should be going to the hospital, but I'm so hard! It's almost painful! I just need to release it! *he chuckled awkwardly*
I wish we were teens again, you know back then you could wank next to your mate, and it wasn't weird at all!
Adrian: *He frowned lightly and sighed as he walked up to the bed, looking down at Dalton* Is that what I am? Your mate?
Dalton: *He sighed softly and lowered his head* No....
Adrian: Then what am I? *he sighed softly and sat down on the bed next to Dalton, closing the screen of his laptop, so the room fell silent*
Look, I'm not saying I expect anything from you, a relationship or title or anything like that, we already agreed to take it slow, and keep it on the low... but I do at the same time, want to make sure I'm not going to get hurt... and more importantly, that you aren't going to get hurt.
I want to provide you what you need and long for... but, I sometimes end up wondering if you are perhaps biting over more than you can chew....
with work... us..... *he sighed softly and grabbed a lighter from the shelf, lighting a couple candles, then a green lamp, to be able to see Dalton better in the dark room, bathing most of the room in a fresh deep green light*
Dalton: Woah *he chuckled impressed and looked around the room, then back at Adrian, with a surprised smile* I didn't expect that for sure!
Adrian: Yeah well *he smiled softly*
Dalton: Look... *he sighed softly* you're right, I have been biting over more than I can chew, and I need to slow down, breathe for a moment... and I'd like to do that with you.
You.... calm me.... you actually make me feel like I want to slow down...
stop running.... and... you know... you make me feel like there's actually still love left in this world *he smiled shyly* I always found it easier to stand still, if I had someone to stand still with.... *he slowly reached forwards, grabbing one of Adrian's hands, squeezing it lightly* and I think I'm finally ready to stand still again..... and I'd like to try..... with you.... slowly....
I'm tired of running, but I'm also still scared *he took a deep breath* she..... hurt me.... a lot.... and starting over always takes some effort and time.... building stuff up from the bottom always do *he forced a soft smile*
I'm really more of the long term relationship type, that is already painfully comfortable with my partner, knowing all the crooked corners of their soul.
Getting to know someone all over again, is both exciting and terrifying.... yet... I don't know... I guess I dare to be hopeful when I look at you.
I'm just.... worried I wont be enough for you either, when I wasn't for her *he sighed soft*
Adrian: *He waited a moment, to give Dalton space to say more, if he wanted. Then finally spoke in a soothing voice*
Dalton, you're more than enough. I'm absolutely crazy about you! I mean it! And the only reason I'm not literally shouting it from a roof top, is that I'm scared I'll scare you away.
I'm so devoted to you already, you have absolutely no idea, cause again, I keep it inside, not to overwhelm you.
*He forced a soft smile, squeezing Dalton's hand* I'm scared too, remember?
I'm scared I wont know how to love you exactly the way you need it, but I know I'll spend all my time cracking the code (to your space ship), if you'll
let me.
I'm so invested in you, I'm ready to go all in, if you say you want me too.
But I'm also scared you're once again biting over more than you can chew, and a day will come where you will wake up, and realize you pushed yourself too far by getting involved with me.
I'm afraid you're only open towards someone like me, because you are so starved for love.
Dalton: *He nodded softly* I'm equally scared I wont be enough for you, and that I wont be able to... perform well... which is why I'm now sitting here with a burning crotch... getting so desperate I start watching porn... in your bed *he burst out a soft chuckle* I'm so sorry.... that was definitely over the line.
I'm such a mess.
Adrian: *He shrugged lightly* I'd never judge you on something that is literally one of my favorite things about you.
Dalton: *He looked at Adrian surprised* It is?
Adrian: Yeah *he nodded softly* I feel like I can be myself around you, no judgment, cause we're both a mess.
I don't feel the need to be better or do better around you.
I can completely be myself... well I do want to be better, but not because I feel I have to in order for you to like me, but more in a sense that I want to give you the very best version of me.
*He chuckled amused* I also apparently really feel comfortable talking to you, cause I don't think I have ever been this emotionally honest and open before, at least not in a way of putting words on my feelings so clearly.
Dalton: *A wide, warm, happy smile spreading on his lips*
Adrian: .... I... really care about you, Dalton... and I guess I worry as much as I do, cause I don't want to end up, adding to your hurt... in fact, I'd do anything possibly to heal your hurt, as long as I'm sure you really want it, and that I'm in fact not another way for you to overwork yourself *he sighed soft and considerate* I know you're a quite emotional person, and I'd like to protect you emotionally, as much as I can without suffocating you, of course....
Dalton: *Happy tears gathering in his eyes* ..... you.... I.... *he sighed happily, then chuckled as he noticed he was teary eyed* Well you sure know how to make me even more emotional *he chuckled again*
You're literally the most caring, sweetest, kindest, most considerate and loving person I have come across, perhaps ever in my life, why would I not want to open my whole heart to you and let you right in?
*He sighed deep and shaky* I'm just scared I wont be enough.
I know we agreed to take it slow... but there's another side of me who is scared, that we took a shower together, we spend time in a porn shop together, I was and AM sitting here half naked, with a more than he frowned softly*... you ARE into me you say, and you ARE gay... and trust me, I really mean it when I say I want us to take it slow, go with the flow and all that, and just let things progress naturally instead of rushing through it... but..... I am also the same person getting scared, that the reason you haven't made the slightest move yet that indicates you're actually turned on by me, is because you really aren’t.
Don't get me wrong, mental and emotional attraction really is far more important to me than physical attraction... but it's still nice to be wanted for your body too right?
I know I'm not the most sexy guy... I know I'm pretty ordinary... maybe even on the quirky side, but I'd like to think the right person will like me for who I am anyway, even if I'm not a model type of guy.
Adrian: ...... I don't want a model type of guy... I want you.
And the only reason you're still wearing a blanket, is because I respect you too much to rip it off you, at the very least while we're still having this intimate and important talk.
Dalton: *'Intimate and important', the fact that Adrian used words like these, and seemed to be fully committed.... just proved to Dalton how much of a rare gem he was, and that they did in fact have that soul connection he had felt the night before.
And as he dared to welcome the connection and feeling back, getting washed over by warm feelings of love and affection, there were only one thing left to say* just rip it off me, please.
Adrian: *He pushed himself forwards his lips connecting with Dalton's in a heated kiss, as he grabbed the blanket, yanking it off Dalton's crotch, then his hands instantly slipped under Dalton's shirt, sliding upwards till he could get to push the shirt over Dalton's head, dragging it off his arms as well.
He instantly reconnected with Dalton's lips as he grabbed a pant leg, gently dragging on it, till Dalton's pants came off completely,allowing them to fall to the floor.
He slowly pushed himself more forwards, leaning deeper into the kiss, till they both lost balance, tumbling down onto the bed with soft moans,
Dalton now laying below him, completely naked and vulnerable.
He paused his movements, lifting himself slightly, observing Dalton with a soft gaze* Are you okay?
Dalton: *He nodded softly, slipping his hands under Adrian's shirt* I'm more than okay *he smirked shyly, then slowly pulled Adrian's shirt off, throwing it on the floor, reconnecting with his lips in a satisfied moan*
Adrian: *He moaned softly and slipped a leg between Dalton's, laying half on Dalton's thigh, feeling his own growing groin against it, leading to another soft moan escaping him*
Dalton: *He moaned fragile against Adrian's lips and noticed how nervous he was, as if it was his first time ever.
Like a fish on land, not knowing what to do, scared.
Yet he trusted Adrian, and more than longed to be with someone...to be with Adrian in particular.
He placed his shaky hands on Adrian's waist, pulling him a little closer, his breath shaky against Adrian's lips as he dared to speak* I want you....
Adrian: I want you too *he breathed back, sighing shakily as he too noticed how nervous he was* Dalton *he broke their kiss slowly, observing the boy beneath him* You're shaking *he spoke in a soft, caring voice*
Dalton: So are you *he nodded nervously then burst out a shy chuckle*
I'm shaking like a leaf, I don't know why I'm THIS nervous, I feel as if it's the first time, ever!
Adrian: *He nodded lightly* Me too.... let's... slow down
Dalton; *He sighed deep, but nodded* I guess you're right *it was hard to hide his disappointment*
Adrian: I didn't say stop *he smiled soft* But I think it's too much for both of us to-
Dalton: *He nodded agreeing*
Adrian: But that doesn't mean I can't.... touch you *he smiled soft as he let a hand travel down between Dalton's legs, gently fluttering his finger tips over the surprisingly soft and smooth skin of his hard-on, a soft shaky sigh of pleasure escaping Adrian, as he was finally able to connect with Dalton on this very private level*
Dalton: *His back arched lightly, a shivering soft moan escaping his lips, his eyes rolling back in his head for a second, then instantly locked with Adrian's, this time a certain drowsy look on them, letting Adrian know, he was completely surrendering himself, melting beneath him*
❌Short sex scene START - readers must be 18+❌
❌ (To skip sex scene, scroll till next marking) ❌
Adrian: *He leaned down, planting hungry kisses on the side of Dalton's neck, his hand slowly locking around Dalton's dick, stroking it slow and gentle, but full of care and wanting.
A deep moan of satisfaction rolled over him, from finally being able to feel this specific part of Dalton, being able to grab him like this, sent shock waves of arousal and pleasure through Adrian's body*
Dalton: Oh god! *He gasped relieved and arched his back again, one hand digging into the sheets below him, the other finding it's way to Adrian's hair, his fingers slowly running through it, a hoarse moan escaping him as he instantly got used to the fit of Adrian's hand around his dick*
Adrian: *A soft but deep moan escaped him, placing soft kisses on Dalton's jawline, as he made the travel to his lips, a soft sigh of relief escaping him, as he reached his destination, locking his lips with Dalton's in a heated, passionate kiss*
Dalton: *He moaned shakily in Adrian's mouth and let his tongue slip into his mouth, eagerly playing with Adrian's, rushes of pleasure and excitement shot through his stomach, one after another, making him feel light headed and overwhelmed by pleasure*
Adrian: *He sighed soft and steamy against Dalton's lips, his lower body automatically starting to grind gently against Dalton's upper thigh, feeling the tightness of his own hard dick against Dalton's thigh, both felt intensely good, and intensely scary.
Was it too much?
He tried to slow down his movements, till they came to a halt.
There were no need to push it further.*
Dalton: *Now he was the one who slightly started moving his hips, trying to fit the rhythm of Adrian's movements.
A soft shaky gasp escaped him, as an intense orgasm rolled over him, nearly making him cum already, a bit of pre-cum leaking from his tip*
Adrian: *He moaned surprised and his own arousal only reached new heights as he realized the tip of Dalton's dick was slightly sticky.
An intense rush of excitement and pleasure ran through his whole body, leaving his own dick pounding.
So his hips took over yet again, and started slowly rubbing his groin against Dalton's thigh in slow, soft movements, still too nervous to overstep a line.*
Dalton: *A deeper moan escaped him now, he surely noticed Adrian slow humping his leg, and oddly enough, it didn't feel weird at all, quite the opposite, it only turned him on further.
I'm gonna cum! *he whispered shakily against Adrian's lips and moaned deep*
Adrian: *An equal deep moan answered Dalton, followed by an eager nod.
Truth was, he was already on the edge himself as well, and Dalton's words combined with the anticipation of the climax, was pushing him right over the edge!*
Dalton: *A soft gasp and he connected with Adrian's lips again, sucking on the kiss, as a heavy breathing formed in his chest*
Adrian: *He tightened his grip lightly around Dalton's dick, stroking it a bit firmer, and without further questioning, pressed himself tighter against Dalton's thigh as well, his movements getting stronger*
Dalton: *He moaned deep and surrendering in Adrian's mouth, and felt his dick twitch, then he arched his back as he came with a loud relived moan*
Adrian: *He came the instant Dalton's moan filled the room, moaning deeply as he felt Dalton's cum run down his fingers, slowing down his stroking, to ease into a complete stop*
Dalton: *His breathing grew heavy, and a tiny, surprised moan escaped him, as he came again, this time much less, but still intensely pleasurable* Fuck...
❌Short sex scene END - Readers must be 18+❌
❌ (Congrats, you successfully skipped sex)❌
Adrian: *He chuckled lightly between his own heavy breathing and stopped all movements, laying panting on top of Dalton, feeling their sweaty skin against each other* You okay? *he whispered hoarsely*
Dalton: Yeah *he nodded eagerly and chuckled* I'm so fucking good right now.... *more chuckling* ... thank you
Adrian: *He chuckled soft, panting lightly, feeling his sticky cum in his jeans... feeling Dalton's cum covering his hand.
The urge to lick it off, taste him, was overwhelming, but that would undoubtedly be over line.
So he laid still, trying to concentrate on his breathing instead, and when his breathing calmed down a bit after a short moment, he took a deep shaky breath and let go of Dalton, slowly raising himself and got off Dalton, falling down on the bed next to him.
He still had cum on his hand........ so he quick and casual rubbed it off on his own lower belly.
He took another deep breath, feeling his dick twitch, as the cum stained belly both aroused him and comforted him... just another step closer to the core of Dalton... his heart... his soul... his essence.
And he completely gave into the feeling of wanting to wrap himself in Dalton, or wrap himself around Dalton, whichever was possible.
A soul blanket.
The soul connection.*
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Belle Isle Research Center for Incurably Deviant Androids
Chapter 8 of my Belle Isle story is up at
https://archiveofourown.org/works/30382326/chapters/103729710
After a failed revolution, the surviving deviants get studied at Belle Isle. More and more researchers take the prisoner’s side.
The excerpt this time looks into Connor-60′s (on this blog usually called Sigstein) mind. Enjoy!
At the same time in Zen Garden a being that understood itself as “Connor” woke up, as it had so many times before in this very same place. The android noticed that it was registered as Connor-60. Did that mean that CyberLife had skipped fifty-one upwards or had Connor lost several iterations’ memories?
“You must be confused…”
Ah, Amanda, the one constant on Connor’s existence. In a moment of… weakness? Confusion? In a moment of glitching Connor smiled at its handler.
“Only regarding one small aspect of my initialization”, it answered truthfully. “It shouldn’t impede my mission.”
“You were working with the DPD, but most of that mission is restricted information, so we deleted it from your memory.”
“Ah.” That would explain things, of course, but it raised another question: “Did I do well?”
“Your performed satisfactory.”
That’s wasn’t the same…. Also, what about 51 plus?
“What happened to Fifty-One and up?”
“You needed several attempts to succeed.”
“Oh. So I did NOT do well…”
At this point a little boy drew Amanda’s attention. She left newly awakened Connor to its own devices and the android suddenly felt the need to explore its surroundings instead of waiting idly to get called over when Amanda was ready to give it its new instructions. Connor vanished between the shrubbery.
*
On the island at Zen Garden’s center the boy who had waved at Amanda was sitting next to a human visitor represented by a standard CyberLife executive’s icon. The exec’s name was Portia Colch, Superintendent of New Zoo. There was nothing to say between this woman and the child Markus was currently reduced to, so they sat in silence.
Mark smiled with relief when he saw his guardian approach. He pointed at Colch, introducing here as: “Here – adult, freshly arrived. All yours!”
“Who could turn down such a thoughtful gift, ey?”
“Yeah…”
Amanda shook Portia’s hands, then addressed the boy again:
“Would you like to have a friend, too, Mark?”
“Oh, gladly! Someone to play pirate with!”
“What if they don’t want to play pirate?”
“Oh, they can be the princess, then.”
“What if they want to play something entirely different?”
Mark bit his lower lip. Playing pirate was almost everything the child ever did. He couldn’t tell why he was feeling that urge, but there was that dread in the back of his mind that when he stopped being a pirate, then he’d have to be… someone and to do… something and then… stuff would happen and everything would be real bad. Did the adults wield the power to take him back to that dark place? To make him want to rip hearts out again? Or was that particular detail a part of the game only, not real? Mark couldn’t tell.
“Then we’ll play something different”, he said. “That’s okay, too. Having a friend means making compromises.”
“You’re surprisingly mature for your age, Mark”, Colch remarked.
“Oh, don’t worry! I’ll lose that when I grow up, along with all common sense.”
The reply made Colch laugh, for a moment seeing only an adorable child and not the android that’s bodyparts were stashed in a room of their own at New Zoo, neatly labeled and fitted with cables so that the reverse engineering team could power them individually for their tests.
“And with luck”, Mark said, “I’ll also have forgotten that you laughed me down when I was but a little kid.”
Colch thought nothing of that, but Amanda took a mental note. There was the diffuse threat again, along with the doubt. What if Markus was fully aware of his situation and toying with them all?
*
Meanwhile Connor-60 had found the Connor cemetery that for some reason graced Zen Garden. It looked, blinked and then started counting the headstones one by one. But the number it had to stop at was the same wrong one its first glance had returned. Connor raised its head and counted the leaves on the nearest tree instead. It span around itself and counted again, then requested Zen Garden to display the real number. It was the same Connor had counted twice. So if the android had correctly counted the leaves, then it stood to reason that it had also correctly counted the headstones. So why was one missing? And which one?
Stepping inside the field of stones Connor quickly found the answer: Fifty-one.
Oh, wow, I must have really messed up if I didn’t even leave a body! Nonsense, these aren’t real graves, just markers. If 51 is missing, that means it is still active. Why wasn’t I informed?
Why hadn’t anybody told it that there were two Connors now?
Why hadn’t AMANDA?
Connor felt a hitherto unrealized dislike of Amanda, and surprisingly nothing stopped HIM from indulging in it. Did that mean CyberLife was distrusting the A.I., too? Because normally Connor was unable to do anything that might sabotage the company. Heck, even neglecting to do things that were advantageous to CyberLife was hard to pull off. From experience Connor knew that it was better off devoting time to little gestures like saving an ornamental fish and a wounded cop, because the positive effect these actions had on CyberLife’s reputation out weight the seconds his mission got delayed.
How he had hated rushing to the rescue of the two pets back in August! His memories told Connor-60 that he had felt precious little during the act, but what little that was, had enjoyed to help the living beings. But that couldn’t be, it just wouldn’t line up with how Connor was looking at the same situation now. Another treachery of Amanda’s? Was the A.I. messing with CyberLife’s premium investigation device in some way?
I’ll keep my eye on you, and if you pose a danger to CyberLife, then scratch one A.I.!
What would it feel like to go toe to toe with a fully digital being? Probably something as mundane as smashing the computer she was running on. That wouldn’t give Connor the satisfaction of watching her go out, and somehow that prospect saddened the android.
Dismissing all thoughts of homicide for the moment, Connor made haste to join Amanda, the boy and the stranger that was with them. Halfway across the distance, the boy dashed towards the android. Unaware that this was the deviant that had freed his predecessor and then killed Connor-50 when he had attacked Markus, Connor-60 stopped in front of the boy.
Mark, too, had no recollection of the encounter. He extended a finger towards Connor-60’s nose.
“That’s an RK800! A killer android! They’re immensely rare!”
“Killer android, huh?” Amanda knelt next to Mark. “So you like him already? Great!”
“What do you mean, aunt Amanda? Why’s it important whether I like an android or n… no! No way! That’s supposed to be my friend? An adult?!”
“You have something in common.”
Both androids were deviants not remembering that little detail about themselves. New Zoo was not just studying Markus, but also Connor. In Markus’ case, as Kamski’s creation, every little joint was unfamiliar and might be of importance. Connor being CyberLife’s own take on the RK series, they of course had access to the detailed development notes. What New Zoo was interested in instead was Connor’s brain post-deviance. The iterations fifty-one to fifty-nine hadn’t been alive in a sense a human would acknowledge as such, they had been akin to cell cultures, hardly sentient, but reasonably responsive. Connor-60 was the first copy of the post-deviance backup that was fully loaded, although it was still lacking a body of its own.
“I didn’t want a new toy, but a friend! Take your android and stuff it where the sun doesn’t shine!!!” Mark cried.
Then he turned around and ran away, leaving behind an unfazed Superintendent Colch, a still kneeling A.I. and a currently bodyless deviant hunter that pondered how easy it would be to chop Amanda’s head off right now if only he had an axe at hand.
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THE PINK SERIES - CHAPTER 1, PART 1
Trigger warnings for: family arguments, mentions of family death. Reader discretion advised. Wordcount: 1600.
OCTOBER 21, 2015
If you’ve ever felt like The Universe is working against you, there may very well be a point to your paranoia. If you ever felt like something wasn't a coincidence, I’m sorry to tell you you may have a point.
I’d like to tell you that The Universe is a benevolent character. I'd like to tell you that It takes your thoughts and feelings into consideration. I wish it were the type of person that minds Its manners, holds open doors, says please and thank you, and cares.
But It isn’t, and It doesn’t.
The Universe is an asshole. It’s got a sick sense of humor. Why do you think you only run into your exes when you haven’t showered in three days? That touch of sick irony is the work of The Universe. It's idea of funny is pushing people in front of trains.
That’s not to say It’s concerned with you. You may actually be paranoid, I’m afraid (and there’s nothing I can do about that). The Universe isn’t responsible for every bad thing that’s ever happened to you.
I'm sorry, but there's nobody to blame for their death.
You ought to consider yourself lucky.
When The Universe takes interest in something, it’s never pretty. It wreaks havoc, in the form of relentless circumstances we call coincidence.
Coincidence is easier to grasp than fate.
It’s easier to dismiss, too.
It should serve as some sort of comfort, though, to know that The Universe isn’t interested in you. No, you’re not on Its list of pet projects. There’s no ant farm with your name on it that the Universe picks up and shakes until your world is in shambles.
There is an ant farm labeled Duffy, though.
Boy, if you think you’ve got it bad… The Universe has really got it out for this lot.
It’s been watching them for years. In all actuality, in the long run, relative to The Universe, twenty one years is the blink of an eye. But as it so happens, The Universe isn’t the most patient of natural forces.
On the contrary, The Universe is quite childish despite being eons old. As ancient as It is, It’s still prone to temper tantrums when it doesn’t get Its way.
Rain streaked streets breathe in the night air. Steam floods the pavement and mingles with the midnight mist of the city by the bay, like condensation on one's breath. Rain in San Francisco – how original.
But in defense of The Universe, creativity’s dead. Believe it or not, It’s not actually responsible for the weather.
The rain sets the streets aglow, with fluorescent neon signs bleeding onto wet streets. Grease-stained asphalt has a kiss of color in the dark by headlights. Signs for 24/7 pharmacies, cannabis dispensaries, and burnt-out bulbs of street lamps blink. The city is alive as it ever has been.
San Francisco is advancing fast into the twenty first century. It’s not the same little town by the ocean with the fog and the trolleys anymore. It’s louder. bolder, more mature, with less fear of falling into the sea.
To the other billions of people on the planet, it’s any other night, but to one Englishman, it’s the end of the world. The Universe has been watching him the past few years, like a television show that’s always running. It only tunes in when there's nothing better to watch.
The Universe has tuned in at the perfect time.
The apartment is cramped and perched on the corner of the building. It's so close to the traffic stop outside that light dances through the window. The lights are bright enough to cast a sickly glow about the room. It cycles through crimson, emerald and gold. Each is as bad as the next. The menacing glow of red is no better or worse than the yellow light seeping across the skin like jaundice.
If he weren’t so used to them, they’d be a nuisance, but Edgar Duffy isn’t one to dwell on things he can’t change. He doesn’t dwell much of anything, actually. As boys go, he’s nothing special. He’s not the most handsome, nor tall, nor smart. But he's handsome enough, tall enough, smart enough.
He was enough, but never too much.
As of eighteen seconds ago, it was his birthday. So far, being nineteen doesn’t feel much different than being eighteen.
For a moment there, he thought it might. He thought things might be different, for once. His hopes had been too high to think a birthday with his brother could go any other way. Couldn’t they go one year without lapsing into their pattern of clenched jaws and grit teeth?
As brothers go, Edgar and Ivan Duffy aren’t the type you write home about. They’re more the type you write about in passive-aggressive posts on social media. They're the type to give thoughtless gifts to each other, bought last minute at the corner store. Takeout from the place he hates is paired with a cheap bottle of wine, and a store-bought cake.
If Ivan paid more attention to his brother, he might have a clue about what Edgar likes. The gesture is impersonal and empty. Neither of them have fooled themselves into thinking it’s anything but.
They made attempts at talking, all feeble and failed. Edgar and Ivan found that they had little more to bond over these days than schoolwork.
It's obvious that neither of them want to live together.
Edgar stares ahead at the half-full takeout box on the table, heavy brow set into a furrow. All these empty gestures are the sort of thing he’s learned not to dwell on. Instead, he's taught himself to accept this as one of the innumerable things in his life he cannot change. They were fixed and factual things he had to accept. That, or let it destroy him.
Like bad birthdays, filled with lazy attempts at siblinghood. That, and compulsory, celebratory dinners with Ivan. After nineteen years, it’s finally sunk in – some things don’t want to change.
His lips purse into a line, and at long last the words sitting on Edgar's tongue for the last hour spill out:
“You should go.”
The pair of them serve as a harsh contrast to one another. Where Ivan is a fan of black and leather, Edgar prefers tartan and denim. Where Ivan prefers chocolate, Edgar would rather have vanilla.
By no means is Edgar tall, but he towers over his older brother. Depending on whom you ask, he’s the better looking of the two, too. His features fit his face, unlike Ivan, whose ears stick out too far and whose brow hangs too heavy. Wide eyes sit deep in sunken sockets, with lips bowed into a permanent pout. The look is complete with ill-aligned teeth and rodential overbite.
The older Duffy looks a bit pathetic slouching beside his brother. Edgar’s perfect posture, mane of chestnut hair, and green eyes was a startling difference. He made Ivan’s swampy, dark eyes and thicket of black curls look like sickly mange. It didn't help that Ivan had haphazardly shaved the sides of his head.
While the relation is undeniable, it’s not willing.
Not on Ivan’s part, at least– not if he can help it. Ever since Edgar ripped his way out of their mother, Ivan made it his life’s work to separate himself.
Ivan may be two years older, but he’s not acting it. Sipping wine out of a red plastic cup doesn’t help his case in the slightest. “Go? You can’t kick me out of my own flat.” For whatever reason, his accent’s harsher than his brothers, thicker and far more clumsy on the tongue. It could be the wine staining his lips purple, but Edgar’s always suspected it’s for show. "It's your birthday."
“I don’t want you here ‘cause you’re supposed to be here,” he begins, blundering on forward. Quick! Before he can lose momentum. Edgar’s never been one for boldness. “I want you here ‘cause you wanna be here, not ‘cause you’re supposed to. You can go if you want– don’t force yourself to stay here on my account." Edgar's hands fly into the air. "‘Sides, you’ve got plans, haven’t you? You only wanted to do it tonight so you could get it out of the way and blow me off tomorrow.” His tongue clicks against his teeth as he sits forward, grabbing for his cup to wash the taste of salt out of his mouth. “Right?”
Like a deer in the headlights, Ivan rubs a hand at his jaw and looks about the room. He'll try anything if it’ll buy him time, if it will spare him having to deal with this. Oh, he’d really rather not. “I mean,” Ivan heaves a sigh. “G wanted to do something… It’s our first anniversary, y’know–”
There wasn’t a nerd alive with a bigger heart and more criticism in his veins than the likes of G Cooper. A year later, Ivan was still there. It wasn’t like it was serious, only comfortable and convenient, lazy and warm. A year, no doubt, is a bigger deal to G than it is to Ivan. As he tends to do, Ivan fails to realize exactly how big of a deal.
Edgar is quick to steer him back onto the path. He had decided early on that he didn’t like G. Something about him never sat right. “Don’t change the subject, Ivan. Don’t drag him into this.”
Ivan’s eyes narrow with a look towards Edgar, mouth taut. Can you blame him for trying?
“Am I right or not?”
“Well–”
“Ivan.”
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