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yellowcry · 8 months

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Deeper through

chapter 5

It would be a blatant lie to say that Luisa felt okay by now. It was better, but she couldn't really feel good. Not here. She held her breath for a second to keep herself together and looked at the shades of leaves in front of her. It was good... It was okay. Her breathing was still shaking a bit, but she managed to lift her head from the ground. She squeezed the flask in her hand, trying to stay awake, remember what was real. She squinted away from the sun and leaned on her arms to sit up. Her head was still pounding from anxiety as she clutched her fists, listening closely to any danger. Any risk from this world. But with how many sounds there actually were, Luisa doubted that she could actually react to something at any time. She twisted her ribbon worriedly, looking at the frogs jumping on the trees, most likely poisonous, but she didn't dare to come close enough to check properly. The big leaves hanged from the bushes; a couple of mice hid under them, probably also wanting to avoid the direct sun. Luisa scratched her hand worriedly, bending down to find anything. She saw sleeping snakes hanging from the trees; their green, squamous skin juggled like another vine. Luisa covered her mouth not to disturb snakes nearby, as she felt like she was about to cough.

Luisa kept getting through the wild, variegated nature. Her arms were covered in scratches as she was trudging between trees. At that point, she wasn't sure what she needed. She wanted to go home so badly, but she was also hungry and getting out of water too quickly. The physical exhaustion didn't help either. Luisa did her best to stay calm and not lose her brain for the second time today. Especially since she was still clutched, even the slightest possibility of dying was too much to handle. Just a few days ago, Luisa would never believe she ended up in this situation at all. But here she is. Unable to do anything but push forward. A lack of people didn't help. Of course, Luisa didn't want anyone in the same situation as her, but she had to admit how lonely she felt. In Encanto, she had her entire family and village to back her up if needed. Of course, it didn't, but the knowledge was still pleasing, even if she never realized it before this entire situation started. Now, Luisa didn't have anyone to talk to but herself.

Ouch!" She let out a short, painful scream as one of the thorns in the tree cut her arm expessialy deeply. Luisa clutched her hands into a fist for a second, staring at how the blood dripped down. She ignored her own trembling and pressed her other hand against the wound for a minute, taking a deep breath to calm down. "I'm fine..." She tried to calm herself down, but it didn't help at all. Instead, she grabbed her own skirt, which was seriously damaged by now. There was a sound of tearing fabric; the amount of gaps allowed Luisa to destroy her cloth freely. She was stunned for a moment, now realizing that she had no idea what she was supposed to do. Her knowledge ended with the fact that people have to wrap their wounds in cloth. A few drops of blood dripped from the cut—not too painful but sertanly unpleasant. She wrapped the blue fabric around it tightly, biting her lip out of worry.

"I'm not nervous..." Luisa muttered to herself, but it sounded more like a weak attempt to deny what was going on. She wasn't sure when she started to use those words, the same that she sang to Mirabel a few days ago in the first verse, as a way of grounding and self-assurance when anxiety was creeping in. Usually, it worked better than this. Of course, usually things are better than this. Luisa knew that she had any right to be scared and alert right now. But it didn't mean that her mind was actively agreeing on that. Because Luisa was never scared or worried. She was just... She was always the one who was supposed to stay calm when there were some problems, or at least she thought that she could do so and not fall on the floor crying. And now her brain refused to keep her at least a little calm. Maybe it was a good thing at some point; it helped her to avoid some danger and stay aware. But the fear was also making it hard to think of something to get out of this. The burning feeling of despair didn't help; the thought of possible death still pulsated in her head.

Luisa looked up, squinting from the sun, trying to find something. Stomach pain kept reminding her that she had to eat after walking so much. But Luisa cletched her fists, squinting from the bright sun. She could see a big, tall tree maybe a kilometre away from her. She read about those in the book once. A Brazilian nut. Luisa never saw one in Encanto; as far as she knew, they weren't growing in their village. But she saw pictures in the textbook. The most important thing is that it was edible.

Luisa walked through the bushes, making sure not to touch anything in safety of what she wasn't sure. She already didn't feel well, and testing her luck wasn't an option.

She winced from a loud thump; her shoulders raised a little, tensing her entire body. It took a second to realize that there wasn't anyone. Only a round nut in a thick shell. Luisa put a hand on her chest, taking deep breaths to calm down. Her eyes widened as she looked at the fetus on the ground. She didn't want to think about what would happen to her if it fell on her head. Luisa grabbed the big ball and ran away from the tree, still breathing heavily.

Was this paranoia normal? She didn't know.

Luisa looked at the food in her arms, now realising another issue. She had to break this putamen somehow. She helplessly twisted a nut in her hands. "Maybe I can..." She muttered to herself, trying to squeeze the shell. But what she would be able to crush with a finger a few days ago now was indestructible for her bare hands.

She tried to ignore another wave of despair as she thought about her missing gift. She wasn't thinking about it much for the last few days due to her circumstances, but it was still painful. If only she had her gift... Luisa would probably avoid all this madness altogether.

She winced at another loud sound, repeating it a few times before there was a crack. "H-huh?" Luisa muttered, looking to see where the sound was coming from. A monkey was holding a sharpened stone, hitting it against the nutshell. Luisa could see that it worked well. The solution formed in her head quickly. If monkeys could break the nut, she could probably do the same thing.

***

Agustin looked at the flames of the cracking campfire as two of them were drying their soaked equipment. The silence was too heavy; he stayed as positive as he could, but it didn't lower his worries. It turned out that the camp really had some problems, leading it to drown in rain. But at least it actually managed to stand the whole night. Honestly, it was way longer than he could ever hope for with his luck.

He saw how Julieta was staring down with an impenetrable facial expression, whispering prayers for Luisa. Agustin wrapped his hand around his wife. "We'll find her." It was not a promise, but knowledge. They would find her no matter what.

Julieta shook her head exhaustingly. "I hope she's okay right now." It wasn't likely, despite Luisa's strength, that this place wasn't for children to play. And Agústin had to admit, they were lacking some skills because the magical gift made it unimportant to learn how to avoid injuries or search for food. But he didn't dare say it, not willing to make Juli even more worried.

They couldn't stay here for too long; it was getting hotter as the sun was going up, until it was way too uncomfortable to sit next to a burning flame. Becides, they had to keep looking for Luisa, she wouldn't just appear out of nowhere. Agustin groaned, standing up to put out the fire. Julieta rubbed off the dust from her pants, grabbing her backpack, before two of them went forward.

He stoically ignored the number of times he hit his own fingers while making nicks. Well, it's not like Agústin never hit himself with an axe while chopping wood.

"Honey..." Julieta breathed out, and he looked at her, surprised. For a second, he thought that maybe she found Luisa or anything from her. She pointed somewhere, and Agústin had to squint to see what she wanted to show. Julieta had already rushed there and tried to understand what was going on.

Only when they got closer did Agústin see a little light lilliac, almost white, ripped-off piece of cloth. It didn't say anything itself, but... It's color looked exactly like Luisa's blouse.

"Do you think..."

"Yes." Julieta didn't even let him finish this sentence. Maybe somebody would think that she had gone mad and assumed things out of nothing. But her motherly instincts were screaming, saying that it couldn't be anything but a sign that Luisa was here recently.

They both looked around; the ground was filled with the chirimoya peels, cut off so well that they were obviously made by a human.

The knowledge that Luisa was here made Agústuin both happy and desperate. They were on the right way! But... It was too late; Luisa wasn't here anymore. The only thing she left here is this little ripped-off piece of her blouse and, most likely, dozens of rinds on the ground. Agústin could say that the fruits that were left were all very high, definitely too high for him to grab even one.

Logically, they should come back to Encanto to tell about this. The other search groups needed to know any important information about where Luisa might be. But Agústin's heart ached from the thought of leaving Luisa, even for an hour. Julieta has the same expression: separating wasn't an option; leaving each other would be too dangerous. At the same time, the idea of stopping looking for their daughter even for an hour was heartbreaking, despite the fact that this was better for her in the long term.

#encanto #fanfic #ao3 author #luisa madrigal #julieta madrigal #agustin madrigal

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neptunianashes · 7 months

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Loneliness is dangerous, every person in the world even the most normal avarage happy ones, feel loneliness at some point in their life. But loneliness can get really seriously dangerous when it becomes severe loneliness. It can happen for several different reasons it can happen that was depressed for a very long time, it can happen to people who was socially isolated for a time or it can happen even to people who are very social and they talk to many people and have a normal life and work but they cannot to connect with any friend or person they know for a long time. You can crave a hug, a meaningful conversation, a kiss, a real deep emotional bond and connection but the thought of even thinking about social connection disgusts you and makes you sick to the stomach and you start to push away even the nicest honest people who only said hello and did nothing wrong. It is like slowly dying of thirst without being able to drink water or any type of liquid. You aggressively withdraw to yourself more and more to the point not only social activities are exhausting but also normal activities that you do alone with yourself. At that point you are pretty much fucked, cooking and eating can become a nightmare because you feel depleted of your energy, and no matter how many hours you sleep, the exhaustion will not only do not reset but also get worse. At that point you are pretty much truly fucked and it is no longer about being unable to connect to other people, but also unable to connect with yourself and reality for survival.

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theold-ultraviolence · 1 year

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oh sweetie, my weekend was fine just a bit unsatisfying because I had a lot of plans cancelled + I have been feeling a bit anxious about a whole lot of things about uni (like you know when you have been working/focusing on more things and can't do any of those? that's me) + I got a stiff neck (just as I was exiting a cold). definitely showing my 25 years of age. but mentally I am trying to regain my balance, so I should be fine.

also I am sorry to hear about your relative, as always there is a limit to what I can do, but I absolutely am sending you the best vibes possible and all my love and warmth. I also do hope that even thought you might not see 'Scream' now, you'll get to do so, soon, in a calmer time!

in the meanwhile, I'll distract you with my unserious rambling.

yeah, Turin is very pretty and one of the cities where I'd love to work (still bitter about the fact that I was supposed to attend a wedding there but they changed the location, ugh).

and I'll definitely check them both out. I have heard about 'the shape of water' but always got discouraged from watching it but never heard about 'cronos', I'll definitely look it up.

(also would I be one of the people using the backdrop for selfies? maybe... but that's just because I need to further up my artsy instagram feed, as the arthoe, I am inside).

ALRIGHT NEW THING ABOUT MUSEUM CURATOR! AEMOND (writing it down before I fall asleep and forget about it!). but basically Aemond being interested and he doesn't want to lose you but also... he can't just ask for your number... can he?

it'd be unprofessional and he'd probably intimidate you (joke's on him buddy I am 100% intimidated and horny for him). so, he'd be like 'what if you came one day and I gave you a private tour?'

like... you just seem so interested about the topic... and I... I have been aching to have somebody to talk with about it' and he rambles on and you are just like 'private FREE tour + FREE museum entry + hottie. I... where do I have to sign' and you end up accepting going like 'it isn't a date' (it totally is in Aemond's mind).

and you show up and he is like even more amazed by your day style, because your nightly one at the museum was a bit more reserved on who you are, instead you are... you and he... is a sucker for genuine people and it's awkward and nervous and he needs you cracking up a stupid joke to completely feel at ease. he totally offers you coffee at the coffee shop inside of the museum and you leave your number on the napkin at the end of it. 'if you set up anything interesting exhibition obviously' you blush as you admit it '... but also... you don't need any cool exhibitions to text me'.

ok that's it, I am going to sleep hoping to dream about museum curator! Aemond.

-🌗

Sorry to hear you had cancelled plans! it is literally the worst if you're really looking forward to it. And I totally get what you're saying about working on a lot of things at once and being unable to. It's how I'm currently feeling ngl! I'm just yearning for spring break because I have 0 energy to do anything at all. So sending you all the good vibes, and hope you can find the ease and balance that you need at the moment! with the chance of a good rest as well, of course. And thank you for your kind words, it really means a lot right now. It feels as though I've been preparing myself for the worst possible scenario and I'm very exhausted and anxious. So the warmth and good vibes are definitely appreciated :')

Omg 'private FREE tour + FREE museum entry + hottie. Literally the dream!? And the hottie in question is one Aemond Targaryen!???? what else could I ask for?? if only this scenario could come true! it's seriously the ideal way to meet someone, I can't think of a better one. Dying over letting him see you on a casual attire and just getting more and more intimate with him through coffee dates at the Museum's coffee shop, oh my GOD, yes yes yes. And in turn he does the same, one day you meet up for a regular date in a conventional place so he's also dressed down than usual when he's working. (Wearing some Adidas maybe? Adidas Aemond sponsored by one Ewan Mitchell). And lunch at the restaurant! TIFF had a special floor (yes, a whole floor) for members only. It was like this lounge where you could chill at and get some food. The gallery curator that was my coordinator when I did my internship got me in there and I was LIVING). Aemond would be like, oh yeah I can totally get you in <3

And it also had like 2 different restaurants, one that was a bit more open to the public and the other one I think was more exclusive, as well as a bar (if I'm remembering correctly. Sigh, I wanna go back to TIFF). So I'm imagining dates at the exclusive museum restaurant, and just hanging out there with him all the time. Also, when you finally get together? dressing up all fancy and being glued to his arm during the opening, and just being by his side all night looking oh so proud that you're the partner of the hot curator. *SIGHS DREAMILY*

#🌗#museum curator!aemond #modern!aemond rambles #this curator Aemond is seriously such a vibe and it makes me feel way better so thank you dear!!

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morvantmortuary · 2 years

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for the obsessive prompts: has anyone considered 54 and hector? 👀

54: "I think this calls for a little punishment, don't you?"

sorry for the delay, babe :’D happy valentine’s day, though <3

no confíes en me -

(18+ below the cut, mdni. fluids play/eating, masturbation, light possessiveness some definitely stalker-y behavior on Hex’s part bc come on, we all know why we’re here. any suggested tweaks for Hex’s spanish appreciated bc I am def not fluent yet :’D mea maxima culpa in advance)

Today had been entirely too much by half.

You collapsed into your bed with a sigh of exhaustion, your room soothingly dim in the soft glow of the fairy lights over your bed, your fresh pajamas and the scent of your shower soap still not enough to soothe the ache you felt from head to toe. It seemed like everything that had gone wrong could go wrong: your car had been acting up, work was crazy, your coworkers had been sweet but less than helpful during the busiest moments of the day, and the customers had acted like the store was having a ‘Bring A Bad Attitude for Half Off’ special since you’d walked in that morning. Between this and the regular obligations that came with, oh, having a Life, you were ready to slip into sweet oblivion at least for a few hours.

So when your boyfriend Hector texted you as soon as your head hit the pillow, with his usual eerily perfect timing, you were at once immediately certain it was him, and almost considering just not picking up your phone. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty: he was genuinely kind, he was clearly crazy about you (maybe sometimes a little too much?), not to mention the man was hot as hell himself. But you weren’t sure you could manage being a person right now, even for him.

When your phone buzzed a second time with the two minute reminder, you reluctantly lifted it, reading it with half your face still shoved in your pillow:

H <3 <[heyyy querida <333 how’s my baby?]

You grumbled to yourself even as you managed to smile a little. He had no right being so fucking cute. What the fuck.

[i’d like to sleep for a million years thanks, hbu]>

A moment of absurdly quick ellipses:

H <3 <[aw pobrecita, we can’t have that <3 what’s wrong? can I make it better??]

He attached to this a photo of him clearly laying in a dark room somewhere, winking at you cheekily from where his head rested on his folded favorite hoodie. It looked weirdly sparse and kind of cramped, compared to what you’d seen of his actual bedroom at the family mortuary, but you figured he was just hanging out somewhere for a shoot. Being a freelance photographer combined with his own ferocious levels of dedication meant he sometimes spent the night in all sorts of weird places for the sake of getting one specific hour of lighting, or for a time-lapse in an unexpected spot.

“Oh fuck you, you adorable asshole,” you mumbled to yourself, still unable to help a smile as you said it.

[no, not even your absurdly handsome face can fix me this time, sorry <3 I think I’m dying no matter what]>

His only response was a photo of his infamous puppy dog-eyed pout, at which you couldn’t help a laugh as you briefly smacked your phone screen down on your pillow. You were still giggling as you picked up your phone again, at last able to absorb his silly expression and type at the same time.

[nope, still nothing. looks like I might be dead to the world XP sry babe, try not to move on too quickly~]>

H <3 <[i’d die first]

You blinked at just how fast he sent that - Hex could be goofy and then intense again in the span of a minute, but never in a way that made you feel uncertain around or about him. It was mostly when you made jokes about yourself in even a slightly self-deprecating way, or about him ever being interested in someone else, that he immediately snapped back to a seriousness that sometimes left you feeling like you’d missed a step. But then again, he was an artist, right? Intensity was part of that whole shtick, you figured. Not to mention it seemed to run in his family in spades, based on the times you’d both hung out with the twins; the three of them together could rocket from being ridiculous to morbid to re-litigating decades old family feuds in the same conversation. You supposed he just came by it naturally.

Hex seemed to have realized how quickly he swung from one to the other, though, because he was already typing again.

H <3 <[no fr you sure I can’t help?? I’d be happy to bring you some food, or just come hang]

You couldn’t help but sigh just a little, contentedly. What the fuck. You happened to find the one artsy space cadet in the entire world who seemed just as devoted to you as he was pretty, but even the idea of him coming around wasn’t enough to keep the dark shadow of exhaustion from looming ominously at the base of your brain.

[you’re the best and I love you, but I think I really do wanna sleep though <3 we can get lunch tomorrow though, if you’re free? <3]>

H <3 <[perfecto <3 can I get a photo in the meantime though? :3]

You rolled your eyes, but not in irritation; you’d just never had a boyfriend who was so eager for selfies, no matter what you were doing. You’d heard of couples who made each other take selfies of where they were in some weird controlling way of keeping track of one another’s whereabouts, but Hex never seemed to want them for that - he genuinely just seemed to like looking at you. All the time. When you’d first started dating, you’d always been tempted to touch up your makeup or change into something cute, but eventually - and again, in that weirdly prescient way of his, one day when you’d been standing in front of your closet - he’d said he’d just wanted you as you were. That that was enough for him, just you in the moment. So now you made it a habit of sending him just brief snapshots of your day when he wasn’t around: you making a face when you snuck away for a break at work, you with your morning coffee as you showed off one of your vast collection of cute travel cups, you looking especially cute when you went to hang out with your friends.

Today, though, you’d barely had time to catch your breath, much less send him a photo where you weren’t making a face akin to a frazzled muppet. Glancing down at your pajamas now, you weren’t particularly compelled to find yourself particularly attractive - especially if how tired you felt was anywhere on your face.

[trust me babe, you don’t want any of this rn :’D I love you though <3]>

You knew he disliked it when you talked about yourself like that, even off-handedly. It was just habit for you, though - for almost everyone you knew, really. You didn’t know how it wasn’t for him, but you supposed when you had eyes like his and a smile like a fox, he might run into that feeling a lot less than you.

You watched the ellipsis appear and disappear at least three times, and you knew he was preparing to argue with you. But you were tired, and as sweet as he was, you were beginning to doze lightly then and there as you waited.

Before you at last fell asleep in the dim glow of the string lights that lit your room, you saw one last reply:

H <3 <[you’re gonna make that up to me, you know. ;) love you, querida. see you later x]

Sure he would. Lunch tomorrow, right?

Or at least, as your phone hit the pillow with a thud, that’s what you thought.

You fell asleep so quickly and so completely, you didn’t see the hand cautiously creep from beneath your bed to unplug the lights from the surge protector.

He was willing to wait a while. You did genuinely seem zonked, after all.

You dreamed about Hector often enough that the first kisses to your face weren’t enough to rouse you. You knew the soft scratch of his beard against your skin so well that it was entirely possible your brain was constructing it entirely from memory. Nor did you wake up when his hips slotted against yours, and he was already impossibly hard through your shorts and what felt like the soft fabric of sweats. That you knew well too, and your hips were more than happy to rise and meet his even in the depths of slumber.

No, you only woke up when one hand slid under your shirt, his thumb impatiently circling your nipple to draw it to a peak as he kissed further down your neck.

It took you a minute for your brain to quite catch up - it wasn’t often you woke up from a pleasant dream straight to a pleasant reality, especially with the kind of day you’d had.

But between the press of his cock against your thigh, and the way his teeth grazed your clavicle as his other hand pulled the collar of your shirt down, you caught on fairly quickly.

“...Hector?”

“Hi,” he said simply, as if he’d been here the whole time. He laved his tongue over the hollow at the base of your throat, and you were unable to hold back a quiet gasp of surprise. Your hands reached up to tangle in his hair - longer now than it had been in a while - and he laughed low in his throat.

You moaned, half from your interrupted sleep and half from the way he sucked fervently at the crook of your neck. “What’re you… doing here?”

“I missed you,” he said, again as if everything was simple and obvious and it wasn’t at all weird that he was kissing you at whatever godforsaken time this was in the morning on your day off.

“I missed you too, baby,” you said, still half-asleep and not quite firing on all cylinders in the logic department yet. You sighed as he moved to the other side of your pajama shirt, kissing over your breasts with a feathery sweetness that felt like a prayer. It was only when he gently took the underside of one in his teeth and bit down that you hissed, your eyes finally fully open for the first time since you’d woken up. “Jesus, Hex, what—“

Hector pulled away and shook his hair out of his eyes to look at you.

There were the occasional moments where Hector’s… particular intensity looked like those dark eyes of his had a fevered glow all their own, from something internal. This was one of them. You stared into their depths, both slightly mesmerized and more than a touch confused.

“I told you, querida,” he said, his voice rasping in a hushed way that went right to your insides. “You were gonna have to make that up to me.” He nodded to your phone, which was still resting exactly where you’d left it on your pillow.

You followed his gaze and blinked, your brain trying to recall the fog that had come right before sleep. “What’re you…” You looked back to him, squinting slightly. “You mean when I didn’t send you a photo?”

“No, he said, shaking his head slowly like he was explaining how rain worked. “What you said.” He moved the hand that had pulled down on your shirt to take your chin in his grip, examining your face like it was a rare jewel before he met your eyes again. “We talked about this, bonita. You don’t get to talk about yourself like that anymore, remember?”

You blinked as it finally clicked. “Oh, Hex,” you sighed, trying to let your head fall back against the pillow (and finding yourself held still instead). You rolled your eyes. “I felt gross and I’m sure I looked gross, it wasn’t a self-dig as much as a statement of fact.”

“No,” Hector shook his head again. “I’m serious. It’s not good for you.” He leaned forward, kissing the exact center of your forehead. “We both said we’d be kinder to ourselves this year, remember?”

“We were also drunk off our asses, sweetheart,” you pointed out, remembering only the foggiest elements of celebrating New Year’s Eve with your beloved - hands everywhere and rough kisses, like now, but with a whole lot more tequila leading up to it. You let out a soft puff of air through your nose in frustration, playfully pouting up at him. “So you came and woke me up for that? Babe. I love you, but what the hell.”

“You went back on a promise we both made,” Hector said, and he tilted his head to go along with his slightly crooked smile. “I think this calls for a little punishment, don’t you?”

You opened your mouth to argue - but his eyes were so dark in the intensity of their gaze, your breath was sucked from your lungs like you were floating on the precipice of a pair of black holes.

At your speechlessness, his crooked smile became a vulpine grin. “Strip.”

For someone who tended to chat as freely as Hector did when the two of you were together, about everything and nothing at all, you knew he meant business when he spoke so little. You slid out of your pajama shirt after a moment’s hesitation, peeling it off like a second skin and leaving your torso exposed to your air conditioned room. You were certain, though, that the shiver that rippled over your skin had nothing to do with the temperature.

Hector’s eyes raked over you so blatantly, it felt like his fingertips instead. When his gaze reached the waistband of your shorts, he nodded imperceptibly, his eyes shifting back to yours. “Those too.”

You felt your breath leave you in a shaking exhale. You’d been naked in front of Hex before, obviously. You’d probably spent more time naked in front of him than you’d spent naked alone since the two of you started going out. But the way he was staring at you now, it somehow felt like… something else. Like your skin was at risk of catching fire if his finger so much as skimmed it, the energy crackled so hard between you. You were surprised you couldn’t see the breath emerge from between your lips as a shower of sparks, the way everything in you was alight.

And he hadn’t even touched you yet.

Your own hands made you twitch in surprise as you slid the small square of fabric down your full hips. Hex’s hand impatiently reached forward when he couldn’t wait anymore and took over, brushing the skin next to where your hipbone would be. He tossed them over his shoulder into the void that was the rest of your room, sending the message that you would not be needing those for the rest of the night.

Hex pulled away, still staring at you openly as he reached down to pull down his dark sweats with impressive haste. When he pulled himself out, he was already hard, and looked like he had been for a while with the beads of precum gathered at the swollen head.

Your eyes understandably lingered there, your tongue ghosting over your own lips. When you heard a soft rasp that you realized was a laugh, you looked back to him to find he was watching your face with a new avarice.

“…What do you want me to do?” Your whisper was so soft between the two of you, it felt more like a shared thought.

Hector raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to one side. “Who said you were gonna do anything, huh?”

You blinked, your gaze dropping down and back to his eyes again with your confusion etched into your brow.

“Oh, Gatita, you’re so cute.” One hand moved to cup your cheek, briefly… before it slid down your neck to your chest, his thumb circling your neglected nipple to make you gasp. “It wouldn’t be a punishment if you got to play, would it?”

You looked to his other hand, watching it spread the fluid down his waiting shaft and his hips jerk forward eagerly. “You’re just going to be a good girl and sit still for me,” he purred, though his breath hitched as his thumb skimmed his slit. “Because I just want to look at you. Okay?”

You were so taken by the sight of him, and the feeling of his hand lasciviously palming the underside of your breast, that you could barely manage a nod.

He laughed again, already breathless as his hand slid effortlessly along his length. You fought a moan as his other hand left your breast, traveling down your side to squeeze your hip affectionately. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You felt heat flood to your face, and you blinked. It was one thing to be confident in the light of day - you were used to rolling your eyes and jokingly meeting his compliments with an ‘I know’ or ‘Hush.’ But when he was here like this, purposefully making you were the only object of his gaze… something about it felt raw.

“You’re beautiful,” Hex murmured, his eyes gently hazy as he took you in once more. Like your flesh was something elaborate and delicate, something painted there that only he could see. His hand moved from your hip over the curve of your stomach, and even as his ministrations picked up in pace, he sighed as though from the depths of a wonderful dream. “You’re one of a kind, a constellation unto yourself… and you’re just mine.”

He hissed through his teeth, his fingers trailing down over the top of your thigh and tracing the marks that decorated it. You felt your hips roll instinctively, wishing they would move closer to the heat at the center of you, but he withdrew his hand with another low chuckle. “No, no,” he teased, watching you pout. “Not yet, Preciosa. You have to learn your lesson first.”

“And what lesson is that?” You were trying to joke, but it lost all its bite as you watched him catch his own lower lip in his teeth. Your want coiled low in your stomach, twisting around on itself, and you reached up to brush his hair away from his eyes.

He leaned away from you, the tip of his tongue poking out at you affectionately. “Isn’t it obvious?” He fought a moan at the end of that sentence, and you felt yourself clench around nothing as his cock flexed in his hand. His palm was coated in his own fluid, the sound of skin on skin tantalizing and frustrating when you were forced to only spectate.

You felt yourself shake your head, though your answer was lost in a soft gasp as his fingers replaced themselves and stroked down the inside of your thigh. “Enlighten me?” Your sarcasm kept slipping from your tongue as his caress continually surprised you, your voice lost in a sigh of your own as his fingertips wandered over your clit with a gossamer touch. “Hex, come on,” you pleaded, the edge of a whine creeping in as he took his hand away once more. “God, whatever it is, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Querida,” Hector half-groaned, leaning forward to press a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You don’t owe anyone an apology. That isn’t what this is for.” He trailed kisses down your neck again, and your hands moved to his back, trying stubbornly to pull him against you. He still held himself slightly apart, his hand working furiously now, but you realized he must have been close as his kisses gained a new, biting intensity.

“Then what is it?” You tilted your head to allow him access to your pulse - a spot you knew he favored - which he took gratefully, nipping at the very life of you in a way you knew would leave a mark.

His breath stuttered softly on your skin as his hips bucked erratically into his hand, and after a last fevered capture of your lips in his, he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

“I know exactly how I feel about you,” he whispered, his voice ragged. “And I know how just looking at you makes me feel.”

And with a low growl of your name, he let go, spending himself in white hot ropes on your thighs and stomach that you could swear felt like lines of fire. You could feel your own slick dripping down your thighs with outright need as you watched, transfixed, and yet again breathless in the bubble of night between you.

When Hex at last collapsed, it was careful - he moved to your side, kissing your temple and your cheek before taking your chin in his hand. He tilted your face towards him, his tongue seeking yours in your mouth and causing you to let out an unbidden moan of your own. You could feel him smile even before he pulled away, his eyes as warm when they looked at you as they were endlessly dark.

With his free hand, he gently gathered the mess he’d left on you onto the tips of his fingers, clearly taking his time to savor the contact with your skin as well as to collect every last drop. When your skin was again bare, yet somehow feeling still more raw than before, he held them expectantly in front of your mouth.

You took them without further prompting, sucking them clean, and he gave you that same soft, dreamy look.

“You don’t have to take me seriously when I tell you how gorgeous I find you,” he murmured, his breath briefly shallow again as your tongue laved his fingertips. “But I never want you to doubt that I do. Ever.” He pulled his fingers gently from between your lips, his tongue replacing them before you could swallow. Your hands flew to the sides of his face, your fingers scratching gently through his beard, and he shivered in delight. “…Believe me?” he asked, only pulling away when you both had to come up for air.

You nodded, words failing you yet again in the moment, but you steadily held his gaze as he again searched your face.

“Good girl.” He smirked, then moved again with a suddenness that surprised you; you only realized what he was doing when he settled himself between your thigh, settling each on his shoulder like they were the garments of a king.

His eyes were like sparking flint over your skin again as he met your eyes. then slowly, savoringly looked down to your soaking cunt. “This next lesson will be much more hands on. Trust me.”

You spent what felt like the next age with your hands, indeed, tangled mercilessly in his hair as he left you defenseless against the fire on his tongue.

He only let you sleep again when you could swear the bubble of night around you both was positively filled with stars.

(ahdfhjlaghla I cannot apologize enough for the wait, jesus christ. I hope you like it, bestie! thanks for being patient, it means a lot!!)

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earthlostgirl · 3 years

Text

Here is another Faye and Spike fanfic. Who else?

DOG DAYS

She was making a hell of a noise, but it's not like she could help it. Her movements were slow and uncoordinated. She crashed into a pile of junk that fell to the ground, she closed her eyes, even under her feet the sound seemed far away.

When she turned around Spike was pointing his Jerico at her. She gave a little gasp, startled, and clutched the first aid kit to her chest. Damn silent idiot. Damn blind idiot who didn't seem to recognize her, suddenly his expression changed completely, as if he was seeing a ghost.

"Will you stop aiming at me? Or are you planning to finish me off like a dying horse?" her voice sounded exhausted. She was. She was also drunk, or at least there were traces of alcohol in her system.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked annoyed and scanning her as he lowered the gun.

"I had a happy argument with an idiot about the right to speak out " she replied with sarcasm. "f you'll excuse me, I'm very tired and want go to sleep."

She made a couple of steps, clumsy and slow, but her legs didn't feel like cooperating on her way to the room. She was going to fall to the ground and was doubtful that she could extend her arms to stop the impact. She closed her eyes, ready to take the hit of her life, and maybe lose a tooth, all for show.

Luckily Spike's chest broke her fall.

"Oooh," Faye said as she sensed the smell of tobacco and something she couldn't identify, invading her every sense. " That was fast."

" Were you planning on kissing the floor?" Spike asked helping her to stand up.

"I doubt I can extend my arms," she whispered against the yellow fabric of the shirt, inhaling his scent again. "You smell so good..."

"Can you walk?" the sound of Spike's heartbeat against her ear seemed to lull her to sleep.

"I guess, " she pulled away from him.

Each wince was worse than the last. Spike, who hadn't left her side, slipped his arm around her waist and almost carried her into the bedroom.

She sat on the bed with the first aid kit still under her arm and placed it on her lap.

"Are you going to stare at me like that all the time?" Faye asked trying to open the damn box, she wasn't able to, the pain was excruciating, she'd have to add a broken wrist to the list.

Spike seemed to notice, because he snatched it out of her hands.

"You're a fucking mess ," Spike mumbled angrily.

"Don't yell at me."

"I didn't."

"Your voice sounds so loud then...," Faye just wanted him to leave her alone, lick her wounds and sleep until the end of the world came.

"Don't move," he commanded.

"Where do you think I'm going - on a bender?" she grumbled wryly.

"Shut up, Faye."

Spike disappeared from her sight without another word, but she stood very still, staring at the door, which seemed to ripple.

"First you should wipe off all the blood on your face, " she didn't realize Spike had returned until she heard his voice.

Faye reached out her hand tentatively so Spike could pass her the soaked towel he had brought with him. But he came over to her and squatting down, Spike gently began to run it over her forehead, her cheeks, meticulously wiping the already dried blood from her face. She was incapable of saying anything, except to stare at him in disbelief, his mannerisms were delicate and kind, definitions that in her life she would have dared to put next to Spike. Every time she complained, Spike clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Thank you," she whispered as he set the towel aside.

Spike looked at her seriously, as he examined her face closely.

" Now what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?"

"I didn't do anything!" she protested angrily.

"I see," he mumbled in exasperation looking her up and down again

"Your jacket is soaked with blood, take it off."

"No," she protested. "It's okay."

"Don't be a baby," he retorted. "Take off your jacket."

She gave him an indignant look, but the way he was staring at her made her nervous. So she decided to listen to him. She put her hand to her zipper, but her arms hurt and she gave up the attempt.

"It hurts," she said rubbing her wrist.

"Fuck Faye," he replied throwing his hand to her zipper.

Anyway, she had been trying to avoid that moment. Spike's eyes widened as he saw her t-shirt torn to shreds.

"Faye..." Spike was looking at her with an intense stare and his hands trembled as he pulled away from her.

"Don't look at me like that, " Faye snapped upset, covering herself with one arm. "It's embarrassing enough that you have to help me."

"Are you okay?" he looked genuinely concerned and made her shiver.

"Yeah...," he sighed. "Nothing happened."

"Sure?"

"Yeah," her eyes filled with tears, but she didn't want to cry in front of him, she took a deep breath trying to pull herself together and shook her shoulders. "Nothing happened, it was just a horrible night."

" All right... Where's all this blood coming from? Where did you get hurt?" he pulled the jacket away from her shoulders looking for open wounds.

"The blood isn't mine," Faye muttered through her teeth.

Spike looked at her again in that indecipherable way while helping her take off her jacket.

"Do you want to put something else on?" he asked looking in horror at the bruises on her arms.

"Yes, please," she was half naked, covered in blood and terribly tired, she couldn't imagine any worse situation. "Can you bring me another shirt? In the drawers there's got to be some."

Spike stood up, moving over to the closet as she pulled off the tatters of her shirt and finished cleaning herself.

"I cut his throat," Faye finally said looking at the blood stained towel, everything around her seemed blurry, the only vision she was able to focus on was that damn towel. . " He...I couldn't get him off me, he was so much stronger than me..... I had never seen so much blood..."

"He deserved it," he replied earnestly, passing her the shirt.

"Yes..."

Faye felt like crying again when she found herself unable to dress herself. Her ribs ached, everything ached.

"Leave it to me," before she could protest Spike was already pulling the T-shirt over her head and helping to put it on. "I have to examine your wrist."

"I know..."

Spike held her arm gently and sighed in frustration. She tried her best not to complain but the truth was that it hurt like hell. Spike bit his lips angrily as he patted along the length of her arm. The bruises looked really shocking in contrast to the pallor of her skin.

"It's not broken," he said as he rifled through the bandages in the kit until he found a new bundle. After placing a piece of metal to keep it straight, he bandaged it tight. "You should hold it up."

She tried to smile as he began to put away the rest of the bandages in the first aid kit. Spike didn't look at her, he was focused on tidying each and every item inside.

"I've got a anti-bruise cream, it's pretty good..." Spike said with his eyes fixed on the box.

He stood up again and left her alone in the room. She flopped down on the bed exhausted, letting sleep overcome her for good.

When Faye opened her eyes again, she was inside the sheets, but she didn't remember taking off her shoes or getting into them. Bringing the hands to her face, she discovered a pair of band-aids over her eyebrow and cheek. The pot of cream was on her bedside table. Faye sat up and spread the cream as best she could over her arm. She got out of bed, she was thirsty and the pain was worse than before she went to sleep.

She went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water. There was a dim light in the living room, Spike was watching TV in the dark. He turned to look at her. He was inscrutable, she couldn't decipher what he was thinking. She smiled tiredly at him, but he didn't move a muscle in his face.

"Did I wake you up?" Spike asked turning down the volume on the TV.

"No, I was thirsty," she replied raising the glass full of water.

She didn't feel like being alone, but she didn't know whether to stay or not.

"How are you?" he asked, offering a hand towards her.

Her heart skipped a beat and she froze. He blinked as if waking from a dream and withdrew his hand.

Faye sat down next to him and picked up the pack of cigarettes from the table, it was hard to maneuver with only one hand. She bit into the cigarette and before she tried to reach for the lighter the flame appeared before her eyes. She smiled frankly and Spike smiled back.

"What are you watching?" she asked full of curiosity.

"Boxing."

"Oh," she settled back on the couch as best she could. Spike watched her out of the corner of his eye. She heard him sigh and look back at the screen.

The boxing match broke for the news. They had found the body, Faye felt the air around her thicken, her attacker was a notorious criminal. She could barely hear the broadcaster over the pounding of her heart. He had been put in jail for torturing, raping and murdering six women. He'd escaped a few days ago. Spike reached for the TV remote.

"No," her hand was shaking but she still wouldn't let him change the channel.

Faye didn't realize she was crying until she felt the tears on her lips.

"You don't have to watch this crap," Spike said turning off the TV.

Not sure if she had heard him correctly, Faye was only aware of her heart beating. She tried to fill her lungs with air, but failed.

"Faye?"

She couldn't breathe, she put her hands to her chest and dug her nails in, as if she could tear her skin off to make way for oxygen.

"Breathe," Spike held her by the shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "It's all over."

She couldn't speak, couldn't stop crying. She hugged Spike who ran his hands through her hair and placed them on her back. She was choking, she tried to catch her breath again, but all she managed was an agonized whimper. Spike pulled away from her. His confused and panicked expression made her even more frightened.

"Please, Faye, breathe," he cupped her face with both hands. "Don't fuck with me, do it very carefully, slowly."

Spike took a slow breath, not taking his eyes off her. She focused on the small change in hue between his eyes as he tried to mimic Spike's slow, methodical breaths. Tears were still slipping down her face, but she felt herself regaining control. Spike wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled, resting his forehead against hers.

" That' s right," his voice sounded calm. "That's it, a little at a time."

Faye rested her head on Spike's shoulder and closed her eyes, while he kept stroking her hair. Her heartbeat didn't seem to calm down, yet she was able to breathe. She felt Spike wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer. Spike radiated a cozy, pleasant warmth, that comforted her. Faye was grateful for his silence and the way he ran his fingers through her hair. She was grateful he let her cry and that he was there. She let out a barely inaudible "thank you" against his chest. She heard him swallow and laugh nervously. He squeezed her in his arms before releasing her.

"Will you be able to breathe on your own or are you tricking me into giving you mouth-to-mouth?" Spike joked as he gave her one of his unmistakable smiles.

"Ha! You wish you could put your lips on mine," she replied looking sideways at him and plopping down on the back of the couch.

"I quit boxing?" he asked casually turning the TV back on.

"Not a chance, there's a show about cosmetic operations gone wrong on channel 93, put it on."

"I'm not putting that crap on."

"Give me the remote, Spiegel."

"Over my dead body, Romani."

#cowboy bepop #spike x faye #faye valentine #spike spiegel #fanfiction #cowboy bebop fanfiction

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misscorn · 2 years

Text

Day 2 Hurt/Comfort

@sihjrweek TW: Panic attack for this one

It had been a long time since Takano Masamune had suffered from sleep troubles. Whether that be nightmares, sleep paralysis, or just plain inability to sleep. It had never been a constant thing in his life, only happening once a month or so, but in his most recent years he almost never found trouble sleeping.

In his youth, it had been an entirely different story. Although they only occurred once in a while, the nightmares he endured had been enough to force him awake with gasps and tremors of fear shaking through his body. Still, it wasn't something he ever discussed with anyone. It wasn't like he had anyone to talk to. He wouldn't even know what to say. The dreams were so abstract, but dreadful, suffocating, terrifying, a never ending fall through the air, but also being held under water until he couldn't breathe, and the whole world was dark, but all his vulnerabilities and insecurities were illuminated for the faceless crowds surrounding him to see, but also he was alone, so utterly and endlessly alone.

Then he met Ritsu. And Ritsu was the only damn thing he could think about, to the point where he wasn't having nightmares because he was too busy staying awake to think about Ritsu! Even when Masamune tried to shut his brain off, he just couldn't. It made him find the underclassman even more annoying, but also made Masamune want to get to know him better. What was so damn special about Ritsu that it was keeping Masamune up with silly questions and fantasies?

Then Ritsu left. Masamune didn't have any trouble sleeping after that because Ritsu leaving was like the first domino in a line of tragedies that pushed him to drink. Getting totally black out drunk actually helped you fall asleep and stay asleep pretty quickly.

Then Yokozawa helped him (forced him) to get his life together and maybe it was the anxieties about officially entering the adult world and taking his life seriously that caused an uptick in his experiences with sleep paralysis. That shit was the worst; the inability to move, the complete lack of control, the question of when it would end, if it would end, or if he was even breathing, oh God he wasn't breathing, he couldn't breathe, he was dying-

But Masamune hadn't experienced sleep troubles in a long time. Maybe it was due to the sheer exhaustion that his work brought on, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Masamune slept just fine most nights, slept even better when Ritsu was beside him, which was becoming less and less rare of an occurrence. Masamune still hadn't gotten that 'I love you', but he and Ritsu had something.

So, of course on the night that he was away from home on a business trip, all alone, no Sorata, no Yokozawa and above all else no Ritsu, Masamune laid down to sleep and began suffering from that familiar feeling of dread once he drifted into slumber.

Only this nightmare wasn't so intangible.

"We're going out, right?" Ritsu asked.

"What?" Masamune said, his throat tight and his whole body feeling as if it could sink into the ground at any moment.

Do you feel anything for me? You never say anything about how you feel. You said I was annoying, you said I was gross. I don't know why you're with me. I don't know why I'm with you. I can't believe I ever loved you. You're annoying, you're gross. You're mean, you're pushy, you're insensitive, you're selfish, you're filled with nothing but ugliness- Ritsu's mouth wasn't moving, but his voice was all around and overlapping with the insults until it was intelligible. Masamune wanted to look away from him, but could not as he was unable to discern if he was looking at teen Ritsu or current Ritsu as it switched back and forth and combined and morphed endlessly.

"Stop, stop it!" Masamune shouted at him.

"Stop? Why should I stop? When do you ever stop?" Ritsu stepped up to him, grabbing Masamune's wrists and Masamune suddenly found himself on his back, immobilized as Ritsu pinned him down. "You never stop to think, never stop to ask, never stop, you never stop, just stop, STOP, LEAVE ME ALONE!" Ritsu shouted and then...

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Masamune was alone.

"Ritsu?" He called out. "Ritsu!" Oh God, Ritsu left him again, Masamune had lost him again and he was never coming back, Masamune had blown his second chance, he was so useless, so terrible, undeserving of the love Ritsu had once shown him, he deserved this darkness, this loneliness, he deserved to live out the rest of his life alone-

With no discernable transition, Masamune found himself on a bridge above rushing rapids.

"Would you do anything for me?"

Ritsu was in front of him again, looking at Masamune as he stood at the edge of the bridge.

"What?" Masamune asked, unable to keep up with the events occurring around him.

"Would you do anything for me?" Ritsu repeated.

"Yes." Masamune answered.

Ritsu reached forward toward Masamune, giving Masamune a brief flutter of hope as he thought maybe he would be embraced and forgiven.

Then Ritsu pushed.

And Ritsu watched Masamune begin to fall with a smile on his face.

Masamune woke up with a gasp, sweating as he sat up. He put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart pound unpleasantly. He swallowed hard with some difficulty, feeling like his throat was closing. Fuck, fuck, he couldn't breathe, where was Ritsu, he needed Ritsu. Masamune felt the side of the bed only to find it empty, which made his breathing more haggard than before.

"Ritsu?" He choked out in distress before he realized he didn't recognize his surroundings at all.

Not only was Ritsu not here, but Masamune wasn't even home.

Masamune scooted toward the headboard of the bed, pressing himself against it in an attempt to ground himself. He reached out toward his nightstand, grabbing his phone and failing to enter his passcode three times due to how badly his hands were shaking, but he managed on the fourth.

He dialed Ritsu immediately, not even looking at what time it was.

The phone rang and rang and rang until the voicemail picked up. Masamune hung up and redialed. Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up, he silently implored, begging for just a smidgen of mercy from the universe, even if he was as undeserving of it as nightmare-Ritsu claimed.

Voicemail.

Masamune redialed again. He couldn't leave a message, if he left a message that meant he was giving up on calling Ritsu, which meant he was giving up on Ritsu, which meant he was giving up on them and he couldn't do that, not when he'd come this far, he was too selfish, he loved Ritsu too much, but if he really loved him then he would let him go, but he couldn't, he wouldn't, he needed-

"Takano-san, it is three in the morning!"

Masamune took a shuddering breath of relief when Ritsu picked up, even though he was clearly unhappy at being woken up. Great, Masamune had fucked up again, he'd upset Ritsu again, overstepped another boundary and proven himself to be a selfish asshole again.

"I'm sorry." Masamune had never sounded so small before. "I'm sorry." He repeated, louder. "I'm so, so sorry, Ritsu-I-" Masamune was not usually the one who was at a loss for words between the two of them, but his voice died in his throat as he took in another gasp of air.

"H-H-Hey, what's wrong? What's going on? Are you hurt? Do you need help?" Ritsu asked, now wide awake and on high alert.

"I need you." Masamune choked out. "I'm sorry, Ritsu, I'm so sorry-"

"Masamune, listen to me. I need you to breathe for me." Ritsu said.

"Can't-sorry." Masamune gasped.

"Um," Ritsu himself was trying not to panic as he did his best to remember anything he might have learned about how to deal with panic and anxiety attacks. "Can you tell me three things you see and three things you can feel?" Ritsu asked.

"S'dark." Masamune said, not able to see a whole lot. "B-but...there's the blanket. And-and my clothes. And I'm holding my phone." Those were three things Masamune could immediately feel.

"Good, that's good. Do you think wrapping yourself up in the blanket will help or make you feel restrained?" Ritsu asked.

Masamune wrapped the blanket tightly around himself and closed his eyes instead of answering. "K-Keep talking?"

"Okay. I can do that." Ritsu said. "I went shopping today, snacks, groceries, yes actual groceries which I know is a miracle, um stuff for the house like toilet paper and shampoo. I debated getting a jigsaw puzzle too, to do for fun, and then I realized that's an old person hobby and then I decided to get one anyway. I was looking at all the different options and they were all either boring landscapes or something really insanely colorful and kind of childish, but there wasn't really anything in between. I decided to get a puzzle with a picture of cats all caught up in different colored yarns. It's cute. I figure if I'm going to do a puzzle it might as well be a fun image, you know? Otherwise I won't have fun doing it. Plus, the cats made me think of you. Is this, um, is this helping at all? Should I keep going? Or do you need something else?" Ritsu asked.

"Keep going." Masamune said softly, having laid back down at this point with the blanket still wrapped around him. His breathing was beginning to even out.

"Okay. Um. I did some laundry today too and cleaned up around the apartment. I'm trying to have at least one day a week where I keep up with all the household stuff so that it doesn't literally pile up. It's kind of working so far? It's mostly just a matter of actually forcing myself to do it. I found some of your clothes in my laundry so I washed them too. I figured you wouldn't mind. And then I...I put on the sweatshirt you left behind. Because I miss you." Ritsu admitted.

"You miss me?" Masamune asked in disbelief.

"I do." Ritsu said, noticing that Masamune was no longer gasping for air. "Are you alright, Masamune? Do you wanna talk about what happened?"

"It's stupid." Masamune said dismissively. He'd never exposed this more vulnerable side to Ritsu before and now he felt embarrassed for freaking out over a bad dream like a five year old.

"No it's not."

"You don't even know what it is."

"If it made you upset then it's not stupid. Not a lot can shake the feared editor-in-chief of the Emerald department, so it couldn't have been stupid." Ritsu said. "But we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just want you to know that it's not stupid."

"...thanks." Masamune mumbled. "I...I had a nightmare." He started. "You were you from now, but you were you from high school too and you were asking me if I loved you again, but then you started saying all these things about me that were awful, but they were true and then you were gone again and I was all alone and I thought you were never coming back and then I was on a bridge and suddenly you did come back and you asked if I'd do anything for you and I said yes and I thought maybe things would be okay but then you pushed me off. And then I woke up." Masamune rambled slightly, wanting to get through the recounting of the dream quickly.

"Oh, Masamune..." Ritsu breathed out.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything, Ritsu." Masamune apologized again, though much calmer this time. "I'm always so selfish when it comes to you and it ends up hurting you. I'm sorry."

"I'm...I'm not going to sit here and say that it's okay, because there are things you've done that aren't okay. But you already know that. And you should also know that I've already forgiven you." Ritsu said. "If I didn't then I would have already disappeared for a second time."

"It doesn't make me any less sorry." Masamune said. "I wish you were here. I really, really, really wish you were here."

"I know. I wish I was there too." Ritsu said. "I'm sorry you had to wake up alone."

"Can we have some sleepovers when I get back?" Masamune asked.

Ritsu gave a soft laugh. "Yeah, we can have some sleepovers."

Masamune's mouth quirked up into a smile at the sound of his laugh. "Okay. Can you stay on the phone with me until I fall back asleep?"

"Sure." Ritsu said. "Let me tell you about the absolute devil Kisa turns into when you're not around. Like he's even more mischievous than usual." He said as he began to recount any and all shenanigans Masamune missed out on at the office.

Masamune half listened, more concerned with the actual sound of Ritsu’s voice than the contents of the story. He set his phone aside, putting it on speaker and hugging one of the pillows he had.

"Hey, Ritsu." Masamune interrupted.

"Yeah?" Ritsu said.

"Don't say it back. If you say it back right now I'll be so fucking pissed off cause I can't kiss and hold you afterward. But I wanted to tell you that I love you."

Ritsu paused for just a moment before he spoke again. "What if I really want to say it back? And what if you really need to hear it right now?"

"If you say it, I will leave and come home right now, work be damned. You don't want to be the reason I abandon my business trip, do you?"

Ritsu laughed again. "I wish you were joking, but I know you're serious. Fine, I won't say it back." He said.

Masamune smiled at the sound of his laugh once more, feeling lucky that he had got to hear it twice in one night. "I'm always serious when it comes to you." He said. "I love you." He repeated.

"Mm." Ritsu hummed in response. "You feeling better?"

"Yeah. Thank you." Masamune said. "Sorry for waking you up."

"It's okay." Ritsu assured. "I thought maybe you were just wanting to tease me at first, but I'm glad I picked up."

"Tease you?" Masamune echoed in a little bit of confusion. "Why would I call you at three in the morning to tease you?"

"Y-You know. Like-like s-something, um, inappropriate." Ritsu explained vaguely.

Masamune blinked.

"Ritsu, did you think I was calling you for phone sex?"

"Shhhh, shut up!" Ritsu exclaimed.

Masamune snorted and shook his head. "My Ritsu always has his mind in the gutter, doesn't he?" Masamune laughed.

"Shut up, shut up, I do not, you jerk." Ritsu argued.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but maybe next time." Masamune said, grinning to himself.

"Absolutely not." Ritsu huffed and Masamune just chuckled in response.

The two of them continued to exchange quips and descriptions of how their days apart were going until Masamune eventually drifted into a much more peaceful sleep.

"Masamune?" Ritsu said softly after he hadn't received a response in a while, but he only heard gentle breathing. Ritsu smiled. "Good night, Masamune. I love you."

#onodera ritsu #takano masamune #sekaiichi hatsukoi #sihjrweek #writing

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remsmoonlight · 3 years

Text

— title : don’t leave me lonely

— word count : 3 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : when the protective instinct that runs deep within daryl you can’t take how much of a child he treats you, only when words spoken in anger do you both see the truth.

— warnings : swearing, one instance of blood description, vague mentions of daryl’s past and just some general angst

I've heard you're taking requests, soo, Could you please write something with Daryl and 20+62 from prompt list?

Thank you in advance and have a nice day ❤️

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested ? yes ! / requests are open *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

prompt list : 20. “Those things you said yesterday… Did you mean them?” && “ After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

Pale grey pavement is being painted with the blood of the walkers you had to slaughter in order to survive, to make it back to your family. You dare not speak a word, already predicting a storm awaiting to drench you in its anger that currently forms within the man you slowly began to love. You can’t pinpoint exactly where you began to have these thoughts, experience these feelings, as it hasn’t been an easy road. Loving him is not uncomplicated, the image he shows the world is harsh, though his actions speak louder than his words.

You’re stuck following him and Aaron, the man sparing apologetic glances back every few metres. He has nothing to apologise for, he was simply a bystander to a very awkward encounter between the two.

“ the hell y’doing out here? “

For a moment, your world stops. You hadn’t expected to see anyone out in the secluded area of the greenery that surrounds Alexandria, the whole idea of going from fighting for your life every day to pretending the world isn’t dead is not a pill that is easy to swallow. A potentially horrid coping mechanism, but you have to remember what it’s like out there, to not be protected by steel walls. To pretend you still have to sleep with one eye open, if anything was to ever happen to anyone you love because you allowed your guard to be demolished by a faux safety you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself.

A timid smile arises on your expression, almost apologetic. You shrug in response to Daryl’s question.

“ y’got no brain now? “ stomping towards you, his eyes burning with outrage and alarm, he doesn’t trust this new situation with you in it.

“ not here, Daryl. “

Trouble has a way of finding you, the unfamiliarity of everything touching the fear that he prays to stay dormant within the walls of Alexandria. At least with you confined to the area he can see clearly, he doesn’t have to imagine the worst possible outcomes to prepare himself for the inescapable of what always happens.

He can’t lose you, he can’t tell you either.

Eyebrows raise in shock over the suddenness of his heated words, never once had he spoken to you in such a way. Even on the rare occasion he was genuinely annoyed with something you had done. You force your features to stay neutral, not wanting a war in front of Aaron, considering you haven’t known him for long.

A mirror image is the displeasure that has stewed within you, the very same of the Dixon man you had shared the road with. Who does he think he is? You ask yourself, that outburst was for no reason and you know it. It’s times like these that confuse you and your feelings for him.

Though you hear no footsteps behind you, you can feel Daryl’s presence stalking you closely, but you pay no mind. Not in any mood to talk, afraid for what you will say in anger.

A temper is something you control, though there are moments it wants to smash down your walls.

With a heavy breath set free into the air, you turn the handle of your home open, leaving it open for Daryl as you know it’s going to be a conversation he will wish to continue. For a rather quiet man, when he wants to, he can say a lot.

Turning to face him, you wet your lips to say something, hoping to calm him before the situation gets out of hand. Hoping to get an idea of why he is so irate, though your expression hardens ever so softly as you realise that he’s most likely going to continue on the tirade he began outside of the walls. Your heart thumps against your ribcage, almost rattling your entire being with anticipation. Being able to hold your own in conflict is something you are able to do, but it doesn’t mean it leaves no scars to litter your soul.

“ okay, so what was that out there, Daryl? “ your words are soft, almost to the tune of a whisper as you question him. Hoping to understand his point of view.

“ y’really gotta ask that? “

Your lips purse, you merely blink in his direction as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. Your heart is full of hurt as he treats you as nothing more than a stranger with the heat that coats his furious words that he hauls in your direction.

It confuses you incredibly how the day has gone to hell so swiftly, but you warn yourself about that. Assuming once dawn breaks that the day will bring something good for once, and not news of another tragedy. Even protected by the stereotypical image of a cookie cut American household can’t hold off death. No matter what, it gets its day.

“ yes, I do! “ you raise your voice, fighting the urge to close the distance. Knowing that he’d mistake it as you being on the offensive. “ I wasn’t doing anything except walking! “

“ yeh, an’ that’s what concerns me. “

A pause.

Nothing but the noises from the residents of this small town can be heard, the silence so deafening it almost obliterates your confusion. The room is so quiet that you even doubt that the two of you are even occupying it, the house feeling more and more cold with the seconds that slug by, it feeling that there’s no life to breathe a new warmth into it. Never has it felt so bare to be in that in that very moment than with the two of you ready to cut deep.

This is what he's pissed about? Before you even realise, you snort from disbelief. It’s something so small, so insignificant you can’t even believe it. Their new found safety has affected the group in many ways, but this has to be one of the strangest as you openly stare at his tense form.

“ seriously? “ you ask, refusing to believe he’s pushing this so intensely for that very reason.

“ y’finding that funny? “

“ yeah, because you’re acting like you’re my damned father. “ pointing a finger in his direction, you pace for a few fleeting seconds.

A closeness between you both has long since been acknowledged, but you’ve never divulged to him the true extent of your emotions. Sometimes you think he’s aware of what you feel, though late at night when you’re alone you realise that it may be better if he doesn’t. You wish you have the confidence to even share it with him, although the thought that blares in your ears warns you otherwise. Your heart couldn’t take another heartbreak, opting for his friendship rather than a cold shoulder born out of awkwardness.

Sometimes you’re sure he’s staring at you with a longing glint in his eye when you’re not paying attention, however you often chalk it up to hope. Never are you one to follow the signs, not wanting to be wrong. Your imagination cannot be crushed if it doesn’t have confirmation.

Hope can be cruel as it can be kind.

“ someone’s gotta, I can’t remember all the times I’ve had t’drag your ass outta trouble! “ his crossbow thuds as it’s dropped without a care, his face reddens as it twists and contorts. You haven’t seen him show this much rage since the Greene’s farm.

The day you first met him is permanently burnt into your brain, being half starved and dehydrated you thought you were hallucinating him. Unable to walk, your limbs weighed a ton under the exhaustion you felt under the punishing Georgian sun but there he was. Surrounded by the rays as if he was your very own guardian angel, but that idea had been put straight to bed as soon as you saw the outbursts from him to the other members of the group.

With the months that passed, you had trouble saying that was the same man you knew today. Less prone to rage, clearer about doing anything in his power to aid his family, though you can’t help but wonder if the old Daryl wants to break through the progress he has made so far.

“ and I never asked for that, Daryl. Why are you acting as if you’re my keeper? “

“ fine! it ain’t my problem if y’wanna be a selfish bitch. “

Causing hurt to the people he loves comes easy to Daryl. To wound deep when he’s scared is all he has ever learnt, to show love and affection was never afforded to him as a child, not even when he silently begged for it. Now, he was physically and mentally scarred, even these days were they still plaguing him like a never relenting ghost. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he hates seeing pain in your eyes, but he can’t convey his worry without fury over the idea of losing you.

He can’t imagine having to live a life where you’re not cracking a joke at the worst possible moment, or your selflessness that will surely one day cause you more harm than good. His breathing increases at the thought, his fists clenching, willing him to stay in place and not barge through the door without a second thought.

“ se - selfish? Daryl, you’re making sense! “

“ y’don’t care about anyone but y’self. Doin’ shit like that by y’self is only gonna get y’killed. All y’think about is you, not anyone left behind. “

“ after everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you? “ the fire you had once now leaves nothing but dying embers, defeat coating your words as tears shimmer in your eyes

Daryl doesn’t know how to react at your proclamation, the inner battle to stay in the lounge now lost. His mind is unable to warp the idea of you even entertaining the thought of becoming more than friends, never did he dream that the shield he’d built around himself could injure him more than the outside elements could.

Before he even realised it, he’s leaning down to pick up his crossbow and heading straight for the door. Paying no mind to you taking his departure as rejection and not self preservation.

“ if you think I’m gonna come back, I’ll make you wait a long time! “ you call out before slamming the door.

Hands are brought to your stomach, as if to stem the bleeding from a wound made deep into your torso, though it can’t curb the internal trauma you feel from Daryl ripping himself from your presence. You knew it was a bad idea to tell him your feelings, yet you could hardly stop yourself in the war of words between the two of you. Nothing is a big enough wish than to stop the pain that ignites your entire self, threatening to consume you entirely. Only now do you understand the true extent of your love for him, previously thinking it was little more than a crush, though this feels more. Especially mourning what could have been.

You retreat to your room, not even leaving to share dinner with your family. Afraid not if Daryl would show, but rather your ability to hold your composure when you feel as if you’re glass who’s moments are counting down by the second to shatter into nothing more than sharp fragments that will only slice others to ensure they bleed, to ensure they feel as bad as you do.

“ come on, you’ve got to get some air. “

A series of knocks interrupt your sleep, followed by the voice of who you recognise as belonging to Carol. You ignore her, not wanting to face anyone just yet. The trauma on your heart is still too fresh. However it matters not to Carol, for she simply does not take your silence as an answer, but rather as an invitation as she opens your door.

“ just leave me alone, please. “

“ the others are worried about you, so am I. “ she speaks, concern written all over her face as she steps forward closer to your bed, her frown becoming more and more prevalent.

“ let them be, I just want to sleep. “

“ you don’t have to talk to anyone, come down after breakfast. Just get some fresh air. “ Carol gently requests with a half smile blooming onto her features. If anything is certain, she wants to see you and Daryl work through the fog that currently locks you both away.

Leaving the bed, you groan to yourself. You’re not sure how much time has passed since Carol departed, but it has been long enough for your family to have also left the house to either explore more or two engage in their jobs. It’s something you send a silent thanks to the sky for, all you desire is solitude, with the sun etching its warmth onto your face. Opening the door, you see people going about their business with little regard for you, though you’re sure some of them must have heard the commotion the previous day.

You pay little mind to them though, more concerned on piecing together the broken pieces of your heart than anything else.

Sleep never once visited Daryl, never did it carry him off into a peaceful slumber. Though he can’t help but feel as if he deserves it, as payment for having to be the cause of the damage to you, being the reason you sobbed harder than he’d ever heard you. He’d waited outside that door, pushing himself to make things right, but never did the courage arise. Leaving him lonely once again.

Fuck this he curses himself mentally, this is going to be the one time an opportunity for happiness does not pass him by. Not once more, that was the last time he’d be nothing more than a witness.

Astonishment transforms his hardened expression as he comes to a stop, realising you’re already sitting on the porch next door with a blissfully peaceful air surrounding you. You don’t realise he’s there just yet, your eyes closed as you take in the sounds and smell of Alexandria, a distraction to what you feel. Daryl briefly wonders how he should go about patching things between the two of you, the situation an alien one to him. Fingers reach towards the cigarette packet concealed in his trouser pocket, with the barest of shaking from nerves.

Bringing it to his lips, the smoke is what alerts you to his being closing the distance. You can’t prevent the draining of colour from your face, not prepared from yet another interaction with the Dixon man so early in the morning.

“ I - uh, wanna say sorry. ‘Bout yesterday. “ Daryl apologises, with a regretful tone colouring his words with the most vibrancy he can muster.

Your gaze slips to the floor, watching the grass move ever so slightly with the breeze that wanders through. To forgive is in your nature and you sorely want to extend that forgiveness to him, but to do so after that exchange is a difficult thing.

“ thank you, I suppose. “ you shrug, your hands tying together as you try to make up for a lack of words.

“ I ain’t expectin’ y’to forgive me or nothin’, I just want y’to know. “

You sigh to yourself, you know in your heart he means what he says, you hate that you’ve been this mad at him.. at each other this much, even for a few hours. People and bonds are a rare blessing in this world, and you know it’s better to keep them close than to allow them to burn in the fire of hatred and impulse, to leave them nothing more than ashes ⎯ remnants to revere of an age that has since past.

“ Daryl, I do forgive you. I’m just trying to figure out how we move past this. “ you reply with sorrow, your eyes closing, a crease intensifying between your brows. It hurts to even speak into existence.

“ those things you said yesterday ... did you mean them? “

Bewilderment forces your eyes open, your head snapping to meet his figure that still stands. Here you are preparing yourself to move past Daryl, no matter how hard that would be, and he’s asking you questions about what you said.

“ you’ll have to be specific, I said a lot. “

“ it needs sayin’? “

Daryl can’t help but feel put on the spot as your sight bores into him with a forceful amount of strength, scrutinising him with the need to find an answer he’s not yet sure of.

“ yes, it does. “

“ was y’serious about.. bein’ in love.. ? “ with me is the silent end to the sentence that lays peacefully on his tongue as he leaves it out, the invisible presence of it painfully clear to the both of you, knowing that while it wasn’t included, it was there regardless.

“ when it comes to things like this, I don’t lie. “ you rest your head on your chin, a small yet anxious smile fighting to break free onto your features.

Why do I have to be a nervous smiler?

Daryl doesn’t answer, instead he moves to sit beside you on the porch. Closer than ever before, it’s not something that goes unnoticed by either of you, and like that hope is once again reignited within your core. Even small steps like this are significant, physical affection with other people is still something that has not changed all that much with him.. Though, you’ve seen moments on rare occasions, witnessing it before he can even stop himself.

“ so, we boyfriend and girlfriend now? “ you joke, laughter allowing the grief to peel away from your heart, allowing it to flutter in the air at the thought of the potential between you.

“ shut up. “ mumbles Daryl, although there’s a small grin that is peaking through his expression as he allows it to be set free, even though the full picture is still hidden under the grime and the hair that has long since overgrown.

But, you find you wouldn’t change a thing about that. It being part of his charm. You can’t help but find yourself full to the brim of excitement of what can grow between you, with the possibilities endless.. no matter how hard things can and will get, you will have each other in a new way that you’ve never before and that? It’s a heavenly picture you want to cut and pocket away in the confines of your heart.

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl angst #daryl fluff

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lavendertales · 3 years

Text

Keep the faith (Javier Peña x f!reader)

Part 23 of Lay It On Me series

summary: you spiral into anxiety and overthinking again as things get increasingly difficult with Cali. Javier takes matter into his own hands and has a heart to heart with you.

word count: 7k (the fuck, I’m sorry)

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @badbatch

series masterlist | AO3 | playlist

The morning returned with all of its unforgiving grace, and so did last night’s memories.

You bid your goodbye to Connie and Steve sometime around six a.m. and returned to your bedroom where Javier was still sleeping peacefully. You stole a selfish moment of staring, admiring how quiet he looked, probably getting a good night’s rest for the first time in who knows how long. You laid awake in bed for another solid hour, unable to think about anything else but the eventful evening you shared with your two friends and the words that had ended the night so peacefully and, in a surprising collocation, tumultuously.

I’m gonna marry you.

Initially, you refused to take Javier’s words seriously. There was no indication you should have done so. You had accidentally gotten high, and your history with commitment did not play out in your favor. It was still leaving its nasty marks on the both of you. Nothing about either one of you would have made it plausible for… whatever the hell it was that Javier tried to drop on you so unexpectedly.

And yet, there you were, lying in bed next to him, your once so-called arch nemesis, overthinking his simpleton words. You couldn’t help it; it was your second nature.

Did he really mean it? Did he really consider taking that step someday? Or soon? No, it couldn’t have been the case. The man who refused and ran away from any pledge was suddenly talking about the biggest step possible for a pair? No. Implausible. Besides, you were barely together as it was and you felt bad the entire time after any of your encounters because you thought that time should be spent towards ending the Cali cartel instead of hitting the sheets. Simply talking about that kind of promise made it so much more serious and… permanent.

But you were in for it, as you had told Javier, and you meant it. You didn’t care for anyone else. Javier was the only thing you could’ve possibly wanted by your side, and you did not go through all of that inner turmoil and pain for nothing. You wanted him, as he himself offered it to you on a golden plate, to be your family.

Slowly yet surely, you began to doubt your own intentions and seriousness regarding the two of you, and more than before, you were simply dying to know exactly what Javier’s intentions were, sober.

You struggled a little with your words when Javier exited your shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. You bit the inside of your cheeks, gulping and staring at the wet locks of hair on his forehead, suddenly lost in an all too delicious temptation.

“I uh—I made breakfast,” you got out with a flustered smile.

Javier chuckled, approaching you daringly. “I like seeing you get all flustered.”

“Oh, bite me, Peña.”

“Show me where.”

Cheeky son of a—

“Listen, last night… never happened. We’ll get fired otherwise,” you tried to clear the air.

“I’m aware of that. Then again, we’ll get fired if that tape gets out, so… seems the universe finds new ways to tell us we’re gonna get fucked up.”

“Yeah, but last night was an accident.”

“I don’t know about that, I feel like Connie definitely wanted to mess with us.”

You chuckled, pleasantly surprised at Javier’s renewed sense of humor. If anything, you craved that domestic side of him you knew he was more than capable of showing. But that side only came out when he was alone with you. And it was a good thing, to be sure. You realized that neither you nor Javier had shared such sincere laughter before. While it was true that the situation you were in was, more often than not, draining and exhausting and you did not allow yourselves to enjoy anything but a rough quickie, nowadays you both seemed more gentle and open with each other.

“Did Connie and Steve go?” he asked.

“Yeah, they left around six a.m.”

“And was she okay after—you know, Steve being a blabbermouth and coming clean about us?”

“Yeah, she said she’s genuinely glad it wasn’t a forgettable experience with some sleazy strangers.”

“That’s good.”

“It is.”

Awkwardness installed itself in between you two and you hesitated to even bring up the subject, seeing as to how Javier was working to reassemble yesterday’s attire. It felt like there are millions of tiny, sharp pieces scattered throughout your chest, mercilessly poking at your lungs and heart, making them ache and bleed all at once, tainting them with the remnants of your former life and fears that you had so abruptly abandoned in your search to start anew.

“We don’t wanna be late again,” Javier reminded you after a while, now fully dressed.

“Right. Let’s grab something to eat first.”

The moment you finally stepped into the embassy, rushing to get to your office, you noticed Steve, his back against you, appearing to be holding something with both hands. You frantically searched through some files when he finally saluted you.

“Hey, mornin’,” he said, a big, goofy smile residing on his face.

“Hey.”

You took a double look as you realized that he was, in fact, holding a baby. Your eyes widened with absolute shock as you stared at him, confused.

“What—what the hell is that?” you all but shouted.

“It’s a very common thing known as a baby.”

You frowned, unimpressed with Steve’s sass and examined the cooing baby with a very unpleasant feeling residing in the pits of your stomach.

“Why do you have a baby? Where did it come from?”

You gasped as a terrifying realization fell upon you like a brick. “Did you steal it??”

“Why the fuck would I steal a baby??”

“I don’t know! Why do people do anything?! They’re not just randomly found on the street!”

“Actually, Connie found her this morning in a house. Her mother was shot dead in bed with her, and she was crying and screaming bloody murder.”

“Probably her mother’s.”

Steve shot you a harsh look, but you shrugged. You watched him coax the little girl and heard her giggle in return.

“What are you doing with her here?”

“I’m just waiting for Connie to talk to someone on the phone. We’re thinking of adopting her.”

More shock came over to you. It seemed you were in for quite the eventful day, and it was only ten a.m.

“We’ve been talking about having a baby for a long time and… we didn’t wanna leave her out there all alone.”

“Makes sense. She is kinda cute, I’ll give her that.”

“She sure is. We’re gonna see what the paperwork is like and hopefully adopt her legally in the States.”

“So you—you’re going back?”

“That’s the plan after I finish here. Alive, hopefully. In that case, I told Connie to take her with her back to New York and take care of here until I come back.”

He chuckled nervously and so did you, in spite of the chilling prospect that image of either member of the team to be found dead. Again.

“You’re gonna make great parents,” you beamed.

“Thanks. I sure hope so.”

“Well you’ve been looking after each other for over ten years and you also took care of Javier on numerous occasions so I think you’re covered.”

This time Steve laughed out loud and it triggered a giggle from the little girl as well.

“I’m just a bit worried for you two,” you added.

“Why?”

“It’s not a matter of trust, don’t get me wrong. It’s just… do you think taking in a baby during these times is a good idea?”

“I told you, once we get the approval, Connie’s gonna take her with her to New York.”

“But until then, what happens? You’ll have to stay here.”

“Oh come on, what was I supposed to do?”

You hesitated, realizing that coming out with your facts might’ve made you sound like a complete monster, but it didn’t take Steve long to figure out why you were doing so.

“I couldn’t just leave her there,” he said, almost offended. “She would’ve starved to death.”

“I know that. Maybe it’s my flight or fight response.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

You sighed, upset at your own instincts and mentality for the first time in many years.

“I always looked out for myself. I never counted on anyone. I had no problem leaving people behind to protect myself, emotionally I mean. If you can’t help it within five minutes, leave. That’s always been my answer.”

“You would’ve left a baby to die?”

“Don’t be cruel, of course not! I wouldn’t have left her there in the pool of her mother’s blood. I would’ve probably dropped her off somewhere, to a comuna, and… moved on.”

“Wow. You got issues.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.”

“Do me a favor, don’t have kids.”

You knew he was joking. You knew he didn’t mean it and that he didn’t think much of it, especially when he pated your back caringly, and you smiled in return. You smiled and cast it aside, agreeing with him.

“Don’t worry. That’s not gonna happen,” you reassured him.

You sneaked glances around the embassy throughout the rest of the day, but there was no sign of Javier. It became an instinct to seek him out, whether physically, visually or audibly, and it kinda hurt you when he was not around. You were no fool, though; you did not and could not expect him to be in your vicinity 24/7, but you yearned constantly. Many were the times you found yourself wishing for a simpler life where it was just you and him, free from obligations and pain.

You did your best to carry out your activities as per usual, though there was much to think about, many things revolving furiously inside your head and allowing you no space of your own, no freedom of mind. Every minute was consuming you with never-ending “what if” scenarios, and when the afternoon came, you felt like you could explode at any given time.

Nonetheless, you vehemently refused to let anyone suspect that there was a raging war being carried out without your will inside of you, so you stayed put in your office. There was a lot of murmur going around at some point, and curiosity finally struck you.

“What’s going on?” you asked Chris.

“Not sure. There’s talk regarding Franklin Jurado, but we don’t know yet what’s going on.”

Chris quickly scanned the surroundings before leaning closer to you, whispering as if afraid of something greater than someone overhearing.

“Are you and Javier okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… with the rules against co-workers dating and all… and you and him…”

“We’re not… dating, Chris. Don’t sweat it. It’s all good.”

“Okay. Great then.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s great. There’s no future in sight for someone like him and me.”

Sometimes it was better to keep things to yourself. The less people who knew your secrets, the better. Even though Chris and Daniel accidentally participated in Steve’s outburst and Javier’s subsequently triggered confession to you, neither asked any questions nor paid much attention to the two of you in the time that followed that night, which was very gallant and professional of them.

But you still did not want to risk any information leak. Not anymore. You took no more chances.

Javier’s voice, coarse and somehow affected, reached your ears as smoothly as always and you felt relief washing over you. The moment you locked eyes with him you noticed restlessness on his face and in his body language as well, instantly becoming worried.

“What’s the matter?” you questioned him.

“Christina Jurado’s missing.”

Your face dropped, but you didn’t want to add to Javier’s agitation even more, so you refrained yourself from openly reacting.

“How did that happen?”

“Don’t you think I would’ve told you if I knew?”

He immediately felt regret take over him. “I’m sorry. It’s just one fucking problem after the other, and I am just fucking sick and tired of everything. Now I gotta figure out how to get her back, where she is… and if Franklin finds out his wife disappeared, he’ll never talk.”

“Listen to me, hey.”

You cupped his cheeks, convinced there was no one else around you and locked eyes with him. In that moment, Javier relaxed, unclenched his jaw and allowed his body to turn into a puddle under your touch.

“You’re not doing this by yourself. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You rubbed your nose against his, closing your eyes for a brief second, taking in his marvelous scent, all too familiar and comforting. You lingered for longer than you should have, but for just how long you needed it. He pecked your nose, inhaling your perfume and your scent, hoping that warm feeling will last him for the rest of the day and the tough situation that he was once again put in.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you.”

“Fucking hell, it sounds so good when you say it.”

You giggled and fought against yourself to let him go, clearing your throat. Last night’s words, along this morning’s, swept over you once again, chanting at the back of your head like an unwanted hymn of disappointment and failure. The promise of taking it slow from your already tumultuous private life did neither you nor Javier good, come to think of it, but it was a promise you both had to keep and had agreed to do so in order to save your reputation and your jobs.

“We didn’t even go out on a proper date or something,” he muttered on his way out.

“A date? When was the last time you had one?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“If you must know, I went on plenty of dates.”

“Which ended… how? Or where?”

You playfully slapped his arm and he stared cheekily at you, reckoning you were nervous. But nothing in Javier’s behavior suggested even the slightest moment of hesitation or anxiety any longer.

“I haven’t had a date in years,” he replied truthfully.

“Me either.”

“You just said—”

“It was true, but… last actual date was… gosh, I must’ve been twenty six.”

“I might have some ideas in my mind.”

“Oh?”

Javier licked his bottom lip, staring at you from head to toe and smirks, exhaling with ease afterwards. Even after all of that time, he still had it in him, and you were no exception to his seduction methods.

“We can have dinner in a nice restaurant, I can walk you back home and maybe… a little dessert after.”

“You really think there’s anything left for you in the physical seduction department to use on me?”

“Try me.”

The words gave you anxiety again and you shuddered, flustered and in pain, feeling the urge to leave your confining office. You replied nothing as you flashed a fugitive smile at Javier and left your own office, much to his confusion.

Javier fought off all of his instincts to not rush after you, instincts which had been nonexistent until you took complete control over his heart and mind, becoming the sole owner of those two places. It was scary at times for him to realize how far the two of you had come and how much he cared for you, as well as the things he was ready to do for you.

That was it.

As he watched you walk away, Javier finally understood the reason behind your edginess. It was fairly obvious, and yet he still failed to pick up on it until that very moment. Nevertheless, he did not want to think it had anything to do with any of your fears. Perhaps you were simply skeptical and confused as to why he would launch such a promise at such an inopportune moment.

One thing was clear: you were the kind of person who planned everything thoroughly and liked to know what was coming, and that was, therefore, an unwanted surprise, a shock that you could not prepare yourself for.

Javier, on the other hand, was as surefire as he could be about it. It didn’t scare him. He envisioned a place where there was no war on drugs, no death walking around and no pain, where the two of you could build your future together. He came to the conclusion that even he, as messed up and harsh as he was, he could be worth having someone like you in his life.

He would’ve never gave love, craving someone like that, a second chance if it wasn’t for you.

After all… you were his very first love. A reminder that he was capable of caring selflessly for someone else, unconditionally and irrevocably.

“Hey, Javi, we’re going to—“ Steve began, still holding the baby.

“What the hell is that?”

“Wow. You two are one and the same, I swear.”

“What?”

“Van Ness and Feistl’s informant says there’s gonna be a party coming up soon, and Miguel Rodriguez is bound to make an appearance.”

“O-kay, uh—but he’s in hiding now. Why would he show up at a party?”

“Rumor has it that it’s the Cali Fiesta, or however the fuck they call that. Huge tradition for the cartel. With Guillermo gone, he’s the leader. He’s expected to show up.”

“Okay, well, if he really is gonna be there, we need to be prepared.”

Steve glanced sideways, noticing Connie coming out of one of the offices and looked back at Javier, handing him the baby much to his dismay.

“What—whoa, what are you doing?” he panicked.

“Just hold her for a bit, I’ll be back in a few seconds.”

“What the—”

Javier awkwardly held the baby as he was told and looked around, thankful that no one was there to see that unfold. He never held one before and he was more than nervous for such a simple task.

“This still doesn’t clarify why do you have this baby or from where!” Javier shouted.

The baby giggled, taking him by surprise, and he stared quietly at her, as if examining for any design flaws. There was none to be found. It was just a healthy baby, a human being forged from the love of two other grown ones.

“That guy’s a bit crazy, you know that?”

The baby giggled again, and Javier puffed, surprised. The discomfort disappeared in the slightest, and despite the fact that he was feeling silly for making conversation with a slobbering child who could not understand a word he was saying, it felt therapeutical in a sense.

“But if he’s got you, you’re in great hands,” Javier continued. “He’s a great guy. And he has a great wife too. They’re… really good people.”

“Sorry about that, Javi,” Connie’s voice broke the daze Javier was seemingly trapped in as she reached to take the baby from his arms.

He nodded and cleared his throat, back to feeling uncomfortable and awkward and stared curiously at the pair.

“Long story short, we found her with her mother shot dead next to her, all alone, and... we want to adopt her,” Connie clarifies with a nervous and excited smile on her lips.

“You’ll make great parents,” Javier said nonchalantly.

Both smiled at him, clearly overly-excited about the whole idea, and Javier came to see that it offers them, but especially Steve, a new purpose, a renewed hope to hang onto in those desperate times. And he got it.

His hope and purpose that kept him going was you.

“Better get her out of here,” he blurted out, his blood pressure rising yet again. “It’s not really the environment for babies.”

“Right. Oh, and uh… how about we grab some drinks tonight, dance a little?” Connie suggested. “Everything’s so crazy and—”

“No offense, Con, but I got so many things on my mind, I – I don’t have time to go dancing.”

“Which is precisely why you need a break. You can’t do everything by yourself, Javi. You’re only human.”

Javier huffed, fully aware that Connie wouldn’t let him off the hook that easy. And sure enough, she stared him down until he grudgingly accepted the offer and walked her out of the embassy alongside Steve.

He wasn’t in the mood for any bar. Frankly, he would’ve rather spent whatever free time he had getting you out of your clothes and sending you on cloud nine with his body, but so be it. He could put it off for one night.

You arrived at the bar first, needing a bit of time alone to process—well, pretty much everything.

Instead of things getting easier, they were somehow getting progressively worse and trickier. Putting Guillermo Rodriguez behind bars was supposed to be a huge deal; instead, it was barely noticeable. Miguel, Chepe and Pacho were still at large, as were the rest of the cartel’s members, and Miguel seemed, more than never, untouchable. It was getting ridiculous by that point, and you felt like no amount of alcohol would solve it.

Alas, you could at least try.

You were three drinks in and two cigarettes later when Connie, Steve and Javier showed up and took seats next to you at the table. Javier’s eyes landed on you as you took a slow drag out of the cigarette, holding it in between your index and middle finger, blowing the smoke up in alluring clouds of nicotine, your lips shaped in the perfect O, the kind he saw whenever he buried himself inside you and brought you pleasure.

He cleared his throat and lit his own cigarette, ordering a whiskey.

“Where’s the baby?” was your conversation opener.

“She’s spending the night at a comuna with one of the ladies that I work with.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you went back to those.”

“I volunteered to work at one again, for distraction and doing a little good. What else am I gonna do when this one is risking his life?”

Connie pressed a light kiss to Steve’s cheek and you smiled, eyes locking with Javier’s by your side. There was an unspoken tension lingering, having you completely fucked up and in a dire need of more alcohol. You fell into your mind’s cruel trap yet again, reminding you of the fact that you were still, until proven otherwise, just another number on Javier’s list, unable to live life with him the way you would’ve wanted, and all that you two had in common was under the sheets.

And you knew it was not true; you felt it to be so, but your mind wouldn’t give you a rest. In fact, it was only making things worse and turning that day into something downright appalling. Despite all of your best efforts, it felt like everything was conspiring against you and offering you proof after proof that you were factually going about things the wrong way.

You finished your cigarette and went to order another drink, but Javier offered to do it for you, taking an order for everyone at the table. Stunned, you sat there, eyeing the crowd and responding the best you could to Connie’s inquiries, but soon even that was gone. She went to dance with Steve and you lost them in the crowd, finding comfort in the knowledge that Steve was strong enough to protect them both should it be the case.

Javier never returned with the drinks. When you tracked him down, you saw him dancing with the embassy’s secretary, Julia, and you held a breath in. You went to the bar, getting your own damned drink and returned to the table, doing your best to not be seen. It would’ve been a terrible thing to be noticed in public with Javier when things were already so precarious for the two of you, so you forced yourself to watch the crowd sweating in each other’s arms. Inevitably, your eyes landed back on Javier and Julia, whose hands were shamelessly wrapped around his neck. He, on the other hand, was looking rigid and a little pale, even in the fluorescent lights.

You couldn’t blame Julia, though. Javier was probably one of the most wanted men at the embassy, and that was the case especially back in Medellin. And you knew exactly where she wanted to go with all of that curving around Javier. She didn’t want or need a relationship with him. She only wanted relief. Pleasure from an eye candy.

Just like the rest of his numbers.

“Phew! It is hot out there!”

Connie and Steve returned, face reddened and temples vaguely sweaty, clearly enjoying themselves for a change. Your eyes were still glued to Javier and Julia despite your better knowledge of just—looking away. But you couldn’t. You could not take your eyes off of him, your glare deadly and vicious, even green with envy.

And the look did not go unnoticed by either Connie or Steve.

“Someone’s jealous,” Connie teased.

Your eyes landed back on her and she felt intimidated by it just as much.

“Whoa. You are insanely jealous,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s the death glare,” Steve added.

“The what now?”

“You know, the glare you throw someone when they get too close to Javi?”

You frowned, somewhat alarmed that it had become such an obvious custom of yours.

“I don’t have—”

Steve put his hand up. “Don’t even bother.”

“Sweetie, it’s not gonna kill you if you admit you’re jealous. I mean, you have every reason to.”

“It might actually kill me. And him. Or kick us out of the DEA and the country, respectively.”

Both of them frowned, but you did not elaborate. Instead, you finished your drink and sighed, closing your eyes and feeling the alcohol kick in. You were in that sweet spot where you were tipsy and closer to becoming unhinged, and you loved it.

“It’s a good thing he’s dancing with Julia though,” Steve whispered to you over the table.

“I know, we’re not supposed to let anyone know that we’re—whatever the fuck it is that we’re doing.”

“Being together?” Connie tried amusedly.

You shrugged, maddened by the definition. “I don’t know. Who knows?”

“Everyone but you and Javi, apparently.”

“I—love this man, and… I would kill for him. And he wants to marry me, and I don’t know if there’s—”

“He what?”

Connie’s shocked tone momentarily woke you from your sweet spot, which you did not like, so you stood up and tried to crawl your way back to the bar. She caught your wrist and thus made you look back at her.

“Javi said he wants to marry you?”

“He said it last night, at the worst possible time. It’s not… it might’ve been just him intoxicated, saying shit he shouldn’t be saying.”

“Or not,” Steve suggested.

“Or it is.”

“Do… you want to marry him?”

“Why—why are we talking about marriage in a bar?”

You chuckled nervously and finally left the table, leaving a giggly and surprised Connie behind to discuss that matter with Steve. Once you got to the bar, you ordered another whiskey and tried to lit your cigarette and became angry very fast when the lighter gave out on you.

“Mierda!”

A gentle tap on your shoulder cast aside the anger; when you turned, your face dropped and all your color drained from it as you were met with the face.

“¿Necesita un poco de fuego, señorita?”

Need some fire, miss?

The man didn’t even wait for your answer and, with the flick of the wrist, took out a lighter and lit your cigarette, smiling pleasantly at you. Too stunned to verbally reply, you could only stare at him.

“Disfruta de tu noche,” he shortly nodded at you and went through the crowd.

Enjoy your night.

Your blood was boiling in your veins. It shouldn’t have been that way, but you couldn’t stop it. His figure was imprinted on your mind now, taunting and teasing you, laughing at you, causing you immense distress. You should not have felt that way, especially not over someone who could easily be deemed as a stranger. But he was responsible for it, and his ease with words and moves did not do you any favors.

You returned to the table stunned, cigarette and glass of whiskey in your hand, just as Javier sat down and took notice of your expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asked you right away.

“She’s jealous of—”

Your eyes were fixated on another table, far off in the distance, where you recognized his silhouette. You wanted to be much stronger than you revealed, but your mind was still playing tricks on you. You downed the whiskey, to the surprise of the three people at the table, and when you finally broke the trance you were caught in, you tried to shake it off, but failed miserably at it. You were too angry and tipsy to be coherent or formulate any convincing response. When the man left the table, Steve and Javier stared with disbelief, finally recognizing him.

“What’s happening now?” Connie asked.

“That was… Pacho Herrera,” Steve cooed, unable to believe. “One of the Cali godfathers. I had a run in with him a while ago when he… basically kidnapped me.”

“I remember. That was him?”

“He’s responsible for the North Valley massacres and disputes and he’s the one who organizes them.”

Steve pointed at you briefly before adding, “Her mom died in one of those.”

Connie’s eyes shifted back to you as you smoked your cigarette, speechless still.

“Your mom? I didn’t even—”

“It’s a long story,” you said automatically. “We weren’t close, and now she’s dead. Makes things easier.”

“But—”

“I can separate my feelings from work. I’m fine.”

You paused, exhaling the smoke from your lungs, after which you chuckled in a way that sent shivers down Connie and Steve’s spines.

“Actually, no, cause if that were true, I wouldn’t be—involved with you.”

You shifted your gaze upon Javier, who stared worriedly at you, mimicking no gesture. He took the cigarette out of your hand, finishing it and putting it in the ashtray before taking your hand in his and leading you to the dance floor under Connie and Steve’s cautious eyes.

Dancing was the last thing on your mind. But his hands were so warm and familiar, you couldn’t refuse it. You couldn’t fight it. Gripping gently your waist, Javier pulled you close to him, enough for you to smell his signature cologne in the midst of all the nicotine and whiskey.

“What’s going on?” he asked, eyes scanning the crowd.

“It’s all good.”

“Lie all you want, you know I know you better than that.”

Where did all that cockiness come from? Was he always like that, to an exaggerated degree? You weren’t sure. What you did know, though, was that you were feeling tipsier than before, perhaps as a result of the cigarettes mixed with the alcohol and that run-in with Pacho Herrera.

“I can separate my feelings. I’m fine.”

“What’s going on?”

His chest, slightly exposed and sweaty, was stripping your brain from all of its rationality, piece by piece, until all you were left with was anger, jealousy and frustration, and all you wanted to do was take it out on him, just like he did.

You were no better than he was.

“Today somebody’s fucking with me, I swear. It’s just been hit after hit, and… I really thought Julia was gonna be my worst case scenario tonight.”

“She wanted to sleep with me.”

“Oh, how shocking.”

Javier had his eyes on you now, noticing just how irritated you were. He licked his bottom lip, his hand travelling a bit farther down your back, resting just above your ass. He rejoiced when you gasped against your will and when you looked right back at him.

“I’m not sharing,” was all you said.

“Me either.”

“Good. Because I didn’t go through all of that shit to lose you to a bimbo.”

“Agreed.”

“Stop agreeing with me.”

“Okay.”

Your death glare returned, but Javier found it awfully endearing. He pressed his forehead to yours, the skin on skin contact disarming you completely.

“I’m yours. End of discussion.”

You hesitated for a moment, gulping as you tried to compose yourself before speaking. It was tough, and the environment was of no help either.

“Javier… I don’t know how much you remember from last night…”

There it was. You brought it up at last, and Javier’s theory had been confirmed. There was nothing else you needed to say for him to receive your message. His hand traveled back up on your spine, seemingly teasing it with his fingers barely grazing the material covering your skin, and he seemed calmer than you’d ever seen him.

Or perhaps that was the alcohol saying its filthy word.

“I’m sorry if I scared you with what I said,” he said somewhat apologetically. “But I remember everything.”

“You didn’t… scare me. I mean, we were… under the influence and I thought… maybe hoped at some point that… you didn’t mean it.”

This time, there was no expression on Javier’s face. On the contrary, his face dropped, oozing some sort of disappointment and a certain degree of shyness.

“I didn’t say that because we were drugged. I meant it. I only say things that I mean. If anything, that gave me enough confidence to just… say it. But I get why you’d be skeptical about it.”

“We’re barely… together, or whatever the hell this is—”

“We are. We’re together.”

“Okay. I just… I spent the whole day overthinking and trying to get rid of these feelings, of this numbness—”

“What feelings?”

“That I’m another number on your list and that we’re doomed to fail, that there’s no future for us.”

It was Javier’s turn to use his death glare, and this one went right through you, cooling you off for a fleeting moment.

“You think I went around throwing ‘I love you’ to every woman I slept with?”

“I sure hope not.”

“No. You’re—”

He huffed, struggling to come forward, but he knew he had to. He had gotten that far, he might as well be honest through and through. Brutally direct, as he’d always been.

“You’re the first woman that I really love and care for. And… there’s more to that story of me and Lorraine.”

You involuntarily held your breath and waited, still waltzing to the rhythm of the music.

“The day of the wedding… I was ready to wait for her at the end of that aisle knowing that she was pregnant and that we were gonna be a family.”

You didn’t know exactly why or how, but that particular piece of information felt like a sucker punch.

“She was pregnant?” you muttered almost incredulously.

“That’s what I thought. I got into my car, too anxious to go through with it, when she called me and told me she got her period. It was over just as fast as it started. I thought it was a good reason to get married, you know? Having a kid… it was the right thing. And then there was no baby.”

“A baby you didn’t want in the first place.”

You frowned slightly, images of a younger, anxious Javier Peña desperately trying to be honorable and do the right thing invading your mind. You didn’t know whom you should feel sorrier for, him or Lorraine, when it was evident that both had been victims of their own insecurities without the other knowing.

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a dad, or if even had those instincts,” Javier continued, face and tone grave. “I just kind of accepted that. I knew she would be over the moon. She’d make a great mother. She did end up having kids, married a stock broker. She’s happier than she would’ve ever been with me.”

You sensed regret and a certain melancholy in his voice that you didn’t often get the chance of witnessing. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, revealing a bittersweet smile.

“Do you regret it?”

“What? Leaving?”

“Looking back at the life you could’ve had.”

“No. Not really. I know that I wasn’t cut out for that back then.”

“And you think you’re ready now?”

“I told you, cariño. I am ready for you, however you want me or need me to be. And don’t tell Steve, but… he was right. I gotta get my shit together. So that’s what I’m trying to do here.”

“I know, and I admire that. I’m trying to do that as well. I just—”

Javier looked at you with that worrisome, puppy expression that you found ever so hard to resist and alluring and you cracked.

“I don’t want kids. And I... can’t have kids.”

The statement left Javier dumbfounded for a split second; it was followed closely by relief and acceptance. Of course you don’t. It made all the sense in the world, given how you live and how many things still consumed you that you haven’t fully embraced yet.

“I just—I mean, since we’re on the subject,” you sort of apologized. “But you looked cute today holding that baby.”

Javier looked at you dumbfounded, a shy smile now dominating his face. “You saw that?”

“By accident. But, uh… yeah, I can’t have kids. There was a pregnancy scare, years ago, when I was with Spencer… and I went to the doctor and it got clearer. And I realized it was a sign.”

“Signs don’t matter. What you feel and what you want matters.”

“I know. I never really wanted kids. So I don’t know… I don’t want you to look back at our life when we’re old and wrinkly—”

His smile turned into a smirk, and you grasped what you implied.

“You know… theoretically,” you tried to rectify.

“And you think I wanna raise kids in this fucked up world, this country? At our age?”

“We’re not old.”

“We’re pushing forty.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s… sad for us.”

You both chuckled, feeling a little more relieved.

“I am way too tired from my own life to bring chaos onto an innocent baby,” he said.

“But… do you want to? Honestly.”

Javier pondered for what you felt as an excruciating moment, replying with a decisive “No” afterwards, which lifted a huge weight off of your shoulders, weight which was unknowingly crushing you.

“So that’s off the table,” you concluded, relieved.

“What about the other big question?”

When you looked in his eyes, you saw sincerity, and a sparkle that hadn’t always been there. No, that one was recent and by the looks of it, Javier was also trying to get acquainted to it, but he let it in. He let you in, and he let all of the feelings that you brought upon him in, contorting into a mass of security and coziness.

“You did laugh at me when I said… that,” Javier said.

“Yeah, well… the man who hates and runs from commitment suddenly tells you he wants to marry you? It’s scary.”

The tension was running high and thick between the two of you as you both took in the information and let it sink in.

“Look, the point is, I didn’t say it as in… I’ll do it today or tomorrow, or even six months from now,” Javier tried to close the topic. “I meant it as in… this is something that I want to do somewhere along the line. If—if you want to, of course.”

“So this is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… we’re talking about our future together like it’s a surefire thing, like it’s settled that we’re gonna end up together.”

Javier frowned, staring at you puzzled.

“I thought it was a surefire thing,” he said.

You couldn’t help but smile flustered, the idea of you and him together till the end—whatever that one may be—offering you a warm and cozy sentiment that you did not want to rid yourself of.

“Tell you what,” you added. “If we live through this hell, if we make it out alive… ask me again then.”

Javier cocked an eyebrow at you, having his curiosity awakened, and you smiled flirtatiously. “I might change my mind.”

“Deal.”

The dancing stopped, and now you were staring at him with an unbelievable hunger, product of the previous torment, and Javier easily read through it.

“Still angry?” he muttered in your ear, doing everything possible to not press kisses down your neck.

“Not so much.”

“I kinda miss our angry moments.”

“You mean when we were hate fucking.”

Javier shrugged, arms around your waist. He felt his body being boiled alive, but that was the usual sentiment whenever he was around you.

“I could be angry if I think back to Julia trying to steal something that’s not hers.”

“Were you afraid I was gonna hold her like this and run my hand down her back—”

He did exactly that, hand moving down your spine, tantalizingly slow, and gently squeezing your ass, leaving you perplexed and, indeed, fuming.

“—and press her against me, wishing I’d slide myself inside of her and make her scream my name—”

“Stop.”

Javier grinned, clearly enjoying the moment.

“You are jealous.”

“Don’t let it get to your head, Peña.”

“Oh, fuck you calling me Peña like it doesn’t turn you on to say it.”

The spark in his eyes was no longer kind. It was savage and hungry like yours, and you grew more impatient as you held onto his broad shoulders.

“Take me home,” you told him, voice dark and dominated by desire.

Javier leaned in to nibble at your earlobe and whisper to you, “I’m gonna eat you out until you feel nothing else but me, and I’m gonna fuck all of your frustration out. Does that sound good?”

Speechless and oh, so deliriously wet, you stared at him, mentally undressing him already. “Take me home now.”

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#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfic #Javier Peña fic #Javier Peña fluff #Javier Peña angst #Javier Pena #Javier Pena x reader #Javier Pena x you #Javier Pena fanfiction #Javier Pena fanfic #Javier Pena fic #Javier Pena fluff #Javier Pena angst #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #lay it on me series

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stayevildarling · 3 years

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Wilhemina Venable x Reader- When the time is right Pt 2

Part 1, Part 3

word count: 3.5k

warnings: brief mention of dizziness and feeling sick, mention of scoliosis, angst + fluff at the end

A/N: Part two! I will write one more part, potentially two, kind of depends. I hope everyone enjoys this story so far!

Taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @mrsdeanhoward , @alexajbitar , @in-cordelias-coven , @kenzbro , @loverofallthingssarah , @twistedpoeticjustice , @billiebeanhoward , @minaslittleone , @lilypadscoven , @vintagepaulson , @ninaahs , @whitelotus00 , @httpfiftyshadesofgay

After getting back to your desk and quickly sitting down as it felt like your legs might just give up on you, heart still racing fast and mind filled with thoughts, you try and focus on the tasks ahead again. Your boss instructed you to make arrangements for the new partnership with Kineros Robotics and as you do some research on their website instead of clicking the Company History link or the product one to actually write the article, your thoughts trail off.

As a result, you click on ''Employees'' and you recognize the two men from earlier. One of them is called Jeff Pfister and the other one is called Mutt Nutter and you chuckle at that name. You learn they are heads of the company and then you see HR and there she is Wilhemina. In the photo she seems cold and harsh and not even in your worst nightmares you imagined meeting her would be like it was today.

First of all, you have trouble believing she works and lives in the same city you do now like it must be fate right? You moved and changed jobs and you find yourself in the same city? Your new firm working together with hers? and you running into her after thinking of her earlier while listening to some lyrics in your lunch break?

It all seems too good to be true and it definitely must be the universe sending you both some kind of signal. As you type out some words on your computer, actually trying to get some work done, you feel how shaky you are and that you can't even type properly. Taking a deep breath, you try and remind yourself to say calm and that this feeling will pass and reminding yourself this is just the result from today's events.

As you lean down to get your bag to drink something you see stars and you can feel dizziness approaching, so you slowly make your way to the employee's bathroom, also feeling slightly sick. Standing by the sink, you let some cold water run down your wrists and you also splash some cold water on your face to try and calm yourself down.

Obviously, it would affect you, seeing her again so unexpectedly but you didn't think it would hit you like this and feel like a tornado just rippled through your life. It feels like all this time since Wilhemina walked out of your life, the pain never truly stopped, and even though you had healed since, the scars opened again today.

After a while, you hear the bathroom door open and you hold onto the sink feeling sicker by the second. ''Oh dear Y/N are you okay?'' you hear one of your co-workers ask and rush over to you.

''Yeah I- I think I didn't drink enough'' you say and she offers to take you home but you don't wanna bother her. ''I think I will be fine'' you say and after drinking some water she got for you, you feel less dizzy but still completely exhausted.

''I will talk to Mr. Odell'' she says and before you can protest she is gone. After a few moments, she comes back with your bag and coat and guides you outside the building, and takes you to your car.

''Are you sure you should drive?'' she asks concerned but you reassure her you are fine. ''Thank you'' you say and she leaves with a smile and says ''Just rest and if you need anything just call'' and with that she leaves and you are left, sitting in your car and you let out a deep breath you have been holding in for way too long.

You start your engine, knowing deep down that you are in no state to actually drive and that you probably shouldn't but at the same time you just want to get back into the comfort of your own apartment, as soon as possible and lie down.

The drive doesn't take too long and with the window open, music very quietly playing in the background, and the occasional sips of water, you manage to get home quicker than you initially thought. You drop your bag and coat in the hallway and after shutting the door, you head straight to the bedroom, abandoning all your thoughts and things and practically falling into bed.

The dizziness quickly subceeds as you feel your body now adjusting to the comfort of your mattress, soft pillow, and blanket you managed to wrap loosely around your tired body. Sleep quickly consumes you, your body needing rest after this exhausting day, the thought of the redhead, causing this reaction, abandoned for now but she is here yet again to haunt you in your dreams, moments after falling asleep.

''No no no please don't leave'' you scream, currently caught in a nightmare, another sign your body and brain are still processing today's events. It feels like your personal hell, as you seem to relive the worst moment of your life over and over again and that's Wilhemina walking out of your life just in different scenarios and moments but it hurts in every form of it. Tears stream down your face as you beg her not to go but each time she leaves and it feels like dying every time.

The next morning:

As soon as your eyes snap open after hearing a faint sound coming from the other end of your apartment, you feel exhausted, the last night not providing you with the kind of sleep you needed for your body and mind to fully relax and be ready for another busy and packed day ahead.

Sighing, you rub your eyes and slowly get out of bed, your feet automatically following the source of the noise, that initially woke you up and as you realize it's your phone, you are somewhat glad for the distraction as it pulled you out of several nightmares. As you finally reach your bag, you retrieve your phone and you feel relieved as you realize it's 6:30 am and you didn't miss work. At the same time, your heart skips a beat as you see Mr. Odell's number this early in the morning.

''He-hello?'' you ask slightly dumbfounded why he would be calling you at this time in the morning. ''Ahh Miss Y/L/N I was just checking to see if you feel better'' he starts but you can already feel he is after something as this seems like a small excuse to call you. ''Yes I am, thank you'' you quickly reply, waiting for his actual reason behind calling you this early.

''Listen, the contracts with Kineros Robotics are finished, I need you to go and collect them with Ms. Venable this morning'' he instructs and you can already hear him typing away on his computer. ''Of course'' you reply before he says a few 'Thank yous' and ending the call.

Closing your eyes, you try and take a deep breath and remind yourself that everything will be okay and to keep the raging storm of emotions at bay but somehow the thought of seeing Wilhemina again terrifies you and makes your stomach flip but at the same time there are so many 'What ifs' and unanswered questions, still filling your brain and causing you to overthink.

Still feeling sleepy and also exhausted from the night before, you decide to have a quick shower, before getting ready and adjusting your usual work attire in the mirror, styling your hair, and applying makeup. The only difference today is that no amount of makeup could cover or hide the bags under your eyes and how exhausted you look.

Taking a deep breath and grabbing your things, as well as a coffee, you leave your apartment and head over to Kineros Robotics. Somehow, even though it seemed like on the entire car ride there you didn't even pay attention to anything, the day before you, you somehow did as you find yourself in the familiar parking lot, a while later.

As you walk in, heading straight towards the familiar corridor, walking past the front desk, you don't realize at first, that the entire building is dead quiet, your own thoughts too loud and only as you pass a clock on the wall, you realize it's seven thirty am and probably the reason for the silence and no one there yet.

Part of yourself feels relieved as you hear some clicking on a computer keyboard and without being able to see her yet, you know Wilhemina is already there. You aren't actually that surprised because the redhead used to be the first one in the office every morning, at your old firm where you worked together, always the first to open up and last to close up, really focussed on her work and taking it seriously.

As she hears footsteps approach, Wilhemina looks up confused about who would already be here at this time because she is always the first one and her idiot bosses wouldn't be awake at this time. ''Y/N?'' she asks confused as she sees you enter, stopping whatever she is working on, and for a moment you just look at her unable to say a word.

She scans each one of your features and by your posture and facial expression she knows you are not okay, she used to hold you whenever you weren't feeling well or after a nightmare and she can read you better than anyone else.

''What- what are you doing here this early?'' she asks confused and you can tell she hesitated at first before asking and you notice her voice still sounds dominant but it sounds slightly softer at the same time.

Finally clearing your throat and approaching her desk, ignoring your sweaty palms or heart beating faster, you compose yourself and manage to form a reply.

''I'm here to pick up the files and contracts for Mr. Odell'' you say, still feeling intimidated by her burning gaze. It seems as if she is staring straight into your soul, reading and knowing every single detail about you like the sleepless nights, nightmares, or how she still haunts you every single day.

''Very well'' she replies and nods and she retrieves her cane, gripping hard around the snake handle, before walking over to a cabinet and getting out some folders with the needed documents. As she has to slightly bend down, you notice the same expression on her face, even though you can only see half of it. Wilhemina always hid her pains from you, even back then, she would reassure and promise and pull the most adorable faces, promising she is okay but you knew deep down by the furrow in her eyebrow and how quickly her eyes shut close, whenever she had to move her back the slightest, she was lying.

It takes her moments to gather the needed documents and you find a little smile playing on your lips because despite what happened to the woman you used to know so well, it makes you feel calm that deep down she is still the same organized and hard-working Wilhemina she always had been. It feels like a glimpse of hope, a little ray of sunshine in the middle of a storm.

However, your smile quickly fades as Wilhemina turns around, her gaze lingering on you as she walks towards you. Her expression is stern and cold, no emotion visible and your little glimpse of hope vanishing again. Slowly the realization sinks in that no matter what might have happened, there will be no way to ever get back to how things used to be and this doesn't just cause your throat to go dry, hands shaking uncontrollably again but also for your heart to beat out of your chest, the feeling of anxiety slightly creeping it's ugly way back into your brain.

The woman standing across you, that used to be so much more to you than a stranger, scans your features, noticing the bags under your eyes and the sadness radiating off you. She can look behind the facade, the forced and polite smile but the Wilhemina currently standing in front of you doesn't know how to reach you anymore, as deep down she knows that she lost you long ago and along with you, the only source of light in her life, ever.

Snapping out of it, Wilhemina hands you the files not once averting your gaze and it feels like you might just die from the force her brown observing eyes have on you. As she hands you the files, you reach for it, trying to hide the shaking of your hands but the redhead instantly notices, her gaze finally leaving your eyes.

''Thank you, M-'' you start to say out of a habit, as you were so used to calling her that nickname before but you stop yourself just in time. You give her a polite smile that she doesn't return, her face completely lacking any emotions or giving you any indication on how she is feeling, either about this interaction or seeing you again in general.

Slowly, you turn back around, the same polite smile on your face and a little nod as a form of saying goodbye to her, not expecting to see her again in the near future, as Mr. Odell's assistant would be back tomorrow and you wouldn't be working on this anymore either way. As soon as you turn around and are about to head to the exit, back through the same corridor, your smile fades, face almost crumpling, the pain of seeing the woman you love change into this person completely lacking emotions and reminding you more of a robot than a human, which technically is fitting, considering the company you are currently in and the work they do.

Just as you are about to leave, you suddenly feel a hand reach for your wrist. You flinch momentarily and freeze, as you feel the material of the cold gloves on your skin. Instantly you are reminded of her touch lingering on your skin before when the two of you were still in each other's arms and lives. Her hands had never felt this strange and cold before, as they used to have the sole purpose of making you feel warm and loved, either by holding you or making you feel beautiful in other ways.

Finally, you snap your eyes open as a wave of emotions hit you, part of you wants to cry, part of you is angry about the way she left, heartbroken even being in the same room and just deeply concerned and worried about the redhead standing behind you and holding onto you still as if she was scared if she let go, she would lose you all over again.

''Y/N wait'' Wilhemina whispers and as you turn around, now inches apart, you don't notice the way her voice went soft and she let go of her grip after noticing you flinched a bit at the sensation. The two of you instantly lock eyes and it feels like so much is being said, simply through the locking of your eyes.

Despite the redhead trying to hide her true emotions, internally reminding herself who she is and who she has to be, to keep her perfect and cold appearance intact, she crumbles underneath the bottling up emotions and the way it made her feel to see you again. You notice the inner battle she is fighting, her eyes turning a darker and lighter shape with each thought inside Wilhemina. It feels as if the soft Mina is trying to fight her way out of this darker version, wanting to say so many things to you, but at the same time fighting with everything she has left inside her.

As you stand there frozen, just watching the woman standing across from you, your own emotions take over as tears prickle in your eyes and your heart loudly begins thumping in your chest. You look at the redhead, part of you begging her to speak up, to finally let those bottled up emotions go as you can practically feel them radiating off her. For a split second you have hope, as her mouth parts and you expect something, an explanation, an apology or something that could soothe the many questions and aching in your heart, that started with the day she walked out of your shared apartment.

However, the battle inside Wilhemina is too strong, the darker side having ruled her little kingdom of emotions too long that in result, soft Wilhemina, the woman you used to know and fell in love with, has no chance of winning or voicing herself. You sigh in defeat, as you realize there is no chance to get even a simple explanation out of Wilhemina. ''It's okay'' you mumble, after giving her enough time to speak and realizing that it's too late.

Your ex-girlfriend watches, as you turn your back to her again, this time not stopping in your tracks and this time you being the one to walk out of her workplace and life. She stands there frozen, unable to move for a while as the soft Mina is utterly heartbroken as a small part is still inside fighting somewhere. It takes her several minutes to snap out of her state after hearing her two bosses walk in with silly faces, clearly wanting something from the redhead again and needing her attention. She snaps out of it, turning around and walking towards her desk, the same cold expression on her face as if nothing had happened.

A while later, you sit by your desk after handing your boss the documents and unavoidably handing him the key to your connection to Wilhemina, as from tomorrow on Mr. Odell's assistant will be working on the Kineros Robotics case again, like she was supposed to. You try and focus on the tasks ahead but avert your gaze from your computer, looking out the window and watching as the clouds keep the sun from shining and blessing the city with sunlight. Your mind can't help but wander to Wilhemina and the question what had happened to her in the first place to change into the person you had met again yesterday.

Feeling a little shiver run down your spine, you try and ignore the thoughts, accepting fate and believing that fate always has a plan in the end. ''Maybe we aren't meant to be after all'' you think to yourself, before focussing your attention on your tasks and work for the day again, unaware that in a similar, much more purple office, on the other side of the city Wilhemina is sitting by her desk, her mind occupied by you.

#wilhemina venable #venable #miss venable #wilhemina venable x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson imagine #wilhemina venable imagine #au #american horror story #ahs #ahs apocalypse #wattpad #writing #fanfic #lgbtq #part two #one shot #ficlet

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

Text

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— PALM TO PALM IS HOLY PALMER’S KISS ; PART 3 / ?

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 1846

SUMMARY: You’re back to teaching at Gotham High and you end up overlooking rehearsals for the GHS drama club’s upcoming annual play: Romeo and Juliet that no one ever attends. In the spirit of keeping your students’ hopes up, you decide to take it upon yourself to draft out a plan to drive more people to come to the play. The key is the man you’re in love with.

WARNINGS: Vague description of a nightmare, death and an annoying teenager.

A/N: This is really going slowly like a true slow burn. I hope yall like this one. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

In the light of your unemployment as a teacher, Gotham High miraculously offered your old job back after Mrs Wilson, one of the senior English Literature teachers, died of a heart attack unannounced. In all seriousness, apologies were made, admitting they had a mistake with firing you because well, you were clearly a passionate teacher. To your surprise, you were told your students even missed you. Hence, you accepted a job from GHS once again because you would do anything to avoid the smell of burgers and the sounds of hungry crying children. After the whole burglary incident, the Big Belly Burger at midtown was forever doomed as customers gradually decreased over time. It was Gotham after all, people should be used to these kinds of things by now. Including witnessing Batman saving you, the whole experience felt like a fever dream. As excited you were and weirdly unbothered by the whole near-death experience, you realized that if you were to talk about it, no one would genuinely believe you anyway. He was a myth to most citizens of Gotham, but you’re an exception because you’re well acquainted with the knowledge that Bruce definitely knows Batman.

And oh boy, do they talk.

It’s your secret to keep and so is the Batarang you stole. You’re also dying to tell Bruce.

So, you find yourself back in the hallways, crowded with sweaty teenagers, but you would choose this over anything else in a heartbeat. Apart from returning to teaching uninterested students about the works of Shakespeare and Harper Lee and forcing reading lists onto them, you are also replacing Mrs Wilson as the GHS Drama Club’s advisor. Stage performance may be personally foreign to you but plays were practically your forte. That was how you ended up spending your Tuesday afternoons, preparing the members for the club’s annual play. This time, they decided to perform the classic: Romeo and Juliet.

As an English teacher, you were frankly sick of the play, forbidden love was a tad overrated to you. Yet the kids were genuinely trying their best. Shaniqua and Oscar were currently rehearsing their lines as the two infamous star-crossed lovers; You watched them with pride. The two were quiet in your classes but they truly shone on the stage of the school theatre.

“And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss—teach, what does this whole scene even mean?” Shaniqua exclaims and you chuckle, “This scene is simply a metaphor where Romeo is a pilgrim wanting to erase his sins and Juliet is a saint. So, he is basically trying to convince her to kiss him so that he can truly be free of sin,” your explanation echoes through the room, and you notice Oscar turning red when you mention the word ‘kiss’. It was clear as day that the poor boy really liked the girl he’s currently hand in hand with but you don’t want him to feel nervous and uncomfortable about the thought of kissing her. “Now Oscar, you can kiss her on the cheek and that’s fine. Shaniqua, say it with more emotion, okay? Everyone got it?” The response you received was a sputter of hums and nods. Before you could continue, Josh, who plays Lord Capulet and is sitting lazily on the handmade throne, speaks up much to your dismay, “Why is it so important that we put so much effort into this. It’s not like anyone is going to come.” The kids around him began agreeing with his statement, and it was honestly completely expected of him but it was the truth. No one attends the drama club’s annual play. As you're trying to calm everyone down, your phone buzzes on the table in front of you. It’s a text from Bruce, asking if you could come over tonight, phrasing it like he’s a schoolboy sneaking from his parents to meet with a girl late at night. Then, like an epiphany you have an idea although there’s an eighty percent chance it wouldn’t go through. Nevertheless, you turn to the rest of the students with a hint of a smile on your lips. “I might have just the idea to solve that.”

A brief span seemed like an eternity when sleep doesn’t come easy to you. Tonight was a different case; thoughts were completely clear and concise. In much need of sleep, you steal the chance to savour in this clarity and serenity for as long as you could. To feel his warmth, arm gently resting on your abdomen and the occasional whiff of his deodorant from his ebony shirt you’re dressed in. If this was what bliss feels like, you never want it to go away. Your eyes grow heavy, flickering into darkness due to exhaustion from a long day of rehearsals. At once, you’re struck with the reminder of the idea you had this afternoon. It is more of a favour, involving none other than Bruce. There’s a tinge of guilt whenever favours are involved because you never liked asking for help. You were furiously independent and responsible, relying on others was out of the question. Yet, Bruce has always seemed to find a way to weave himself in your mistakes and problems, constantly there to help out. You have to remind yourself this isn’t about you. It’s for the kids. Special guest, Bruce Wayne, playboy and billionaire. Sounds awesome.

As your consciousness begins ebbing away, you feel Bruce shift from beside you, grasp tightening upon your waist. Before your dazed mind could even fully process that he was in the midst of a nightmare, his eyes are wide open, heart-pounding and it seizes him up instantly. With deep breaths, he closed his eyes once more, unable to shake the feeling of dread that rattles in him. Then, a sudden cold touch to his arm—he jumps and snaps his head to look over his shoulder.

It’s you, still laid in bed with a prominent frown upon your brows. Your hand squeezes his forearm and all he feels is instant relief. His heart still pounds, not in fear but with affection. “Are you okay?” you drawled as you watch his lingering hand, fingers weaved between the strands of hair. The silver ones glint under the low light, contrasting the deep brown ones. You notice how his hair had grown along with his five o’clock shadow becomes more evident by the days. His face away from you, finally nodding in response to your question. “Yeah, just... a bad dream. His voice is subdued as he shifts under the sheets, head leaning against the headboard. Despite your weakened state, you bring yourself to sit up, twisting your body to face him properly. "You wanna talk about it?” you say, patting his shoulder lightly in a comforting manner. You watch him rub his eyes, exhale tightly and shake his head. “No. Anything but that.”

His response comes out almost harsh but Bruce doesn’t mean for it to be perceived in that way. His dream was the usual, the normal ones he’s used to by now but in times of stress overwork, they have started to become more intense and violent. This time it involved you, for the first time, and he watched you vividly get shot in the forehead—trails of his memory as Batman when he encountered you at the burger restaurant with the muzzle of a gun inches away from you. It haunts him to think that if the circumstances were different if you hadn’t texted him those dreaded four words, you might be dead.

He certainly is not telling you about the dream. Never in a million years.

Bruce turns to you and you’re still staring at him, worry carved deep in your furrowed brows. Change of topic was merely necessary at this point. “So, how has school been? The kids still mean to you?” Classic Bruce, always sweeping his problems under the antique Persian rug. You don’t blame him because you wouldn’t know better.

It was your turn to sigh at the mention of school but since tonight’s pillow talk is heading towards your job as an English teacher at GHS, you might as well use the opportunity to pitch in your plan. “Still mean, but the drama club kids are really great,” You thumb the edge of the blanket, unable to hide your growing smile. “Speaking of which, the annual play is next Friday and they have been rehearsing all week but,” you paused as you watched his right brow gradually lift. “No one comes for it. Like, no one and I hate to see all their efforts just thrown out the window like that—”

“So, you want me to go for it.”

You blinked, wondering if your explanations were too obvious of its underlying intent or Bruce could just read you like an open book. You won’t be surprised if it’s the latter.

“If it’s no biggie. You don’t have to because I know you’re very busy but I don’t want the special guest to end up being the Big Belly Burger mascot.” Your smile widens and Bruce chuckles. Hell, it’s probably past midnight and you’re still able to find ways to be terribly funny. Literally terrible. After a beat of silence, he clears his throat. “I’ll clear my schedule.” It didn’t need much anticipation or thought because despite everything going on in his life, he knows he’ll do just about anything for you. You’re practically beaming at him and he finally sees it’s all worth it in the end. “Thank you, Bruce.” Your voice is sweet, and it makes his heart swell ever so slightly.

He sometimes wishes the two of you weren’t trapped in this loophole of unsaid confessions and hidden strong emotions for the other.

It almost comes naturally when he leans to you and presses a swift kiss to your forehead. Instead, it’s contradicting everything the two of you consider normal. He isn’t thinking straight and now your smile has disappeared, mouth agape and eyes very wide. Your brain stops.

Uh, what the hell just happened?

It hits him like a punch to the gut and the growing awkward silence is deafening. Yet, he doesn’t apologise because if he does, it doesn’t mean anything when in reality, it means so much more than just an accidental gesture. You don’t mention anything because you don’t objectify his actions. Kissing Bruce was fine when there are no strings attached but a peck to the forehead is way too affectionate for the man.

Before the both of you begin to overthink the events of a few moments ago, Bruce’s rational conscience kicks in and he clears his throat. “Get some sleep. You had a long day today.” He pats you on the shoulder awkwardly and you hum, shifting your head to lay back on the pillow. “Yesterday.” you correct him as it’s well past midnight. He chuckles, now laying flat on his back as he stares at the ceiling. Silently, the two of you agree to forget whatever happened a minute ago and to just...sleep it off.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman x reader #batman imagine #justice league #pining bagels repeat

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goldenavenger02 · 3 years

Text

they've come to get me (and everything's okay)

"Well, we don't have to worry about it then," Lloyd smiled, trying to push back the thought that there could be a group based around his father when he was being controlled by the venom of the Devourer, "it's probably just some misguided criminal who thought it looked cool."

•••

Despite the fact that they were looking for Master Wu, Kai made sure to check on Lloyd every few months in person.

The visits were only for a day or two, usually because Kai was going through the city to investigate yet another dead end lead, but the short hours he got to spend with Lloyd, he cherished.

So when he was in the city, six months after the events of the battle with the Hands of Time, he was excited to see Lloyd.

Even when he almost got run off the road by a motorcycle speeding past, a black ponytail sticking out of the back of the driver's helmet and what sounded like screeching coming from them.

Kai rolled his eyes, he was used to reckless drivers at this point in his life, but that emblem on the back of their motorcycle looked like…

Kai shook the thought out of his head, trying to shake the feeling of dread building in the pit of his stomach. 'It's just some abstract art, definitely not Garmadon.'

Before he could call PIXAL through their connected computer lines to let him know he was almost at the Bounty, she started calling him and he clicked "accept" almost immediately.

"Kai, you need to get to the canals. Master Lloyd has been critically injured, and I am struggling to get the Bounty there."

Panic hit his system as his foot hit the gas, the car nearly flying off the road as one thought jumped into Kai's head.

'What trouble have you gotten yourself into now, Lloyd?'

•••

Lloyd swallowed back the blood he could taste in his mouth, trying desperately to put pressure against the stab wound. But his hands were slick with blood, he couldn't hold down on it and he was starting to get really tired…

'Maybe I should start listening to PIXAL when she tells me to let the police handle it.'

Because bleeding out just outside of the canals wasn't exactly how he'd envisioned himself dying, and he knew that the kids who lived here were probably scared out of their minds.

Lloyd tried to press down on the wound again, unable to hold back the cry of pain that escaped his lips before his hands slipped again, and that's when reality fully sank in as he stared up at the twinkling stars.

'I'm not making it out of this one. The Green Ninja, dead from a stab wound from a regular criminal.'

"Lloyd!" A shout broke through his dimming vision, and he managed to turn his head, letting out a sigh of relief when it was Kai racing towards him and not the masked figure ready to finish him off, "holy!-"

Lloyd's hearing started to cut out and his vision went dark, no longer able to see Kai's panicked face. 'Maybe just a little bit of sleep…'

The cry tore through his throat and all he could feel was 'painpainpain' when he opened his eyes again, seeing Kai staring down at him, his hands obviously pressing down on the wound.

"PIXAL's sending the Bounty," Kai told him before adding, "you are not dying on me today."

Lloyd couldn't keep his eyes from shutting, only hearing one sentence before fading to darkness.

"Lloyd, stay with me."

•••

Kai pressed down harder when Lloyd's eyes fluttered close the second time. 'No response.'

"Lloyd, come on, kiddo. Don't do this, not now." Tears on his cheeks, blood on his hands, pale skin that was almost white under them.

Kai swallowed back the tears he was choking on, and took his hands off of Lloyd's wound, only to press them against his chest; it took two compressions before Lloyd's ribs cracked under his hand, making him cringe. It took five more before Lloyd gasped for breath while still unconscious.

"Thank The First Spinjitzu Master," Kai spoke softly as the Bounty appeared in the sky above them and the anchor dropped, allowing him to hold on while holding onto Lloyd's unconscious body, "we seriously need to install a gurney on this thing."

As soon as his feet touched the deck, Kai rushed Lloyd to control and laid him down where Zane's repairs were done before turning on the computer, watching as PIXAL's system glowed to life.

"Alright, Pix. I'm gonna need a scan, and then some instructions on how to take care of him," Kai explained while reaching over and holding pressure on the wound, leaning closer to whisper, "I'm not letting you die, not tonight."

•••

Lloyd's throat was dry.

There were plenty of things he could've focused on when he finally managed to pry himself from the hold of unconsciousness, but the first thought in his head was that his throat was dry.

He only had to try and grasp at his thoughts to figure out what happened before he blacked out, but then it hit him all at one.

'Stabbed and Kai's there and he's begging me to stay awake and blood everywhere and being tired…"Lloyd, stay with me." Kai.'

Kai had come to see him on his way to check out a lead, and now...he was in the hospital? Lloyd managed to open his eyes, taking in a breath of relief when he realized he was on the Bounty.

"Pix?" He managed to choke out, his throat ready to stop any words coming out of his mouth, but he tried again. "Pix, is Kai still here?"

He didn't get a response, which had been happening a lot recently, and instead the door opened, revealing an obviously exhausted but relieved Kai. "You're awake."

"Water." Lloyd managed to choke out, his words dying in his throat; luckily, Kai already had a cup waiting for him and tipped it against his lips, it was cool against his throat and immediately expelled the dryness.

"Easy, don't chug, you'll make yourself sick like that," Kai laughed while speaking, removing the cup from his lips, "you scared me for a minute there."

"In my defense, I wasn't trying to get stabbed, and definitely not by a run of the mill criminal."

"I don't think you ever try to get hurt," Kai added, which Lloyd couldn't argue with, before he continued, "Lloyd, we gotta talk about...something."

Lloyd didn't like the tone of his voice, and a pit grew in his stomach. He knew what Kai's serious voice sounded like, and this was definitely it. "What is it?"

"When I was driving into the city, before PIXAL called me, there was a motorcycle that nearly ran me off the road-"

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Lloyd interrupted, instantly worried about Kai's well-being; he wasn't one to hide injuries, but since his case was much more urgent, he wouldn't put it past him.

"No, no," Kai insisted, and Lloyd let out a sigh of relief, "but the driver's bike had an insignia on it...Lloyd, it was a drawing of your dad. Your dad when he was…"

"Evil" didn't have to be said, Lloyd knew that it was exactly what Kai meant. "But it was just one, right? Just one picture on one motorcycle?"

"Yeah, just one."

- Seven Months Later -

Nya considered it a stroke of luck that Skylor had a safe house in the canals; it gave them, being Misako, PIXAL, Darreth, herself and Lloyd, a chance to take care of themselves before relocating and meeting up with Skylor.

Nya swallowed back tears, wiping the ones that escaped from her eyes on the sleeve of her gi. She had been forced into hiding before when Nadakhan had painted them as criminals, but she had the others.

She had Kai, who would pull her into a tight hug every time she would get too into her head. She had Jay, who always knew how to make her smile even when she was crying. She had Zane, who always kept her calm with logic and critical thinking, but was never cold towards her. She had Cole, who would always talk her through what she was going through, and give her solid advice.

Nya winced as she pulled up her left sleeve, revealing a plethora of bruising that she immediately started to use what she could find in the first aid kit on, thoughts about the boys still swirling in her head.

'Kai, Cole, Zane, Jay...they were all prophesied to protect Lloyd and now they're gone,' she realized, applying a small ice pack against her wrist, 'I guess that makes it my mission then. To stay strong for him, and make sure he defeats Garmadon for good.'

Despite what she tried to tell herself, she couldn't keep the pang of mourning from stabbing her in the chest; it hurt as much as the tiger widow venom, but unlike that, the grief was much more agonizing.

She pulled down her sleeve and checked her face in the mirror; the skin around her eye was turning purple from the fight she had engaged in with Garmadon and there was a jagged scratch going down her chin, but the rest of the injuries were well hidden.

'That's the last thing Lloyd needs to blame himself for.'

And with that, she made her way towards the one bedroom where Lloyd was supposed to be resting after the fight; he had insisted on his mother, Nya, even Darreth taking the one bed, but they all knew that he needed it the most.

After all, he was the one who had lost his powers, who was still injured from his fight in Kryptarium; he hadn't stopped shaking since he landed on the small boat they had used to pick him up, but she couldn't even blame him. He had watched as the Bounty, their family, had been mercilessly… destroyed.

Nya swallowed back her tears and gently tapped her knuckles against the door, the kind of knock Kai would use when she was sick, injured or just upset; she wouldn't be surprised if Lloyd was suffering from a combination of all three.

She tapped against the door just a little louder this time, but when she didn't get a response, she opened the unlocked door and closed it behind her.

Nya couldn't keep her relief in when she saw the lump in the bed that confirmed Lloyd's presence where he was supposed to be and sat on the edge of it.

"Hey, did you get patched up?" She whispered softly as he laid her hand on his leg, unsure if he was awake.

"Yeah, PIXAL made sure of it," he responded. Nya was able to hear that his voice was thick with tears.

The room was quiet for a few moments; she was unsure what to say, or even what to do, but she had to do something before the tears that were threatening to emerge spilled over.

"Do you…," she could hear Lloyd swallow before trying again, "do you think that if I didn't trust her, we'd be okay."

"Lloyd, they would've gotten the mask with Master Wu if we didn't interfere. You had no reason to suspect her of anything, none of us did." Nya explained softly, pushing back anything that would disprove her point, when Lloyd sat up and she finally got a good look at all of the damage that the Sons of Garmadon, and Garmadon himself, had caused.

The cuts on his face were healing slowly, even though the one that had been next to his hairline was now covered by a white bandage.

His eyes were bloodshot and...they were no longer green. Instead, they were a medium brown with flecks of red in them, like they were when they first took him in. A scared, starving kid in a black hoodie with white paint splattered on it trying to be like his father.

"You didn't trust her at first, Nya. You said you didn't like her."

"And she pulled the wool over my eyes with all that girl talk, remember?" Nya asked softly, maneuvering so she could gently wrap her arm around his shoulder, "trust me when I say that no one blames you. You're not the first to get carried away with a crush."

"If you're talking about Skylar, she didn't get a choice. She was just doing what Chen told her to do," Lloyd's voice was shaky with anger and heartbreak as he pulled away from her hold, "And that worked out, didn't it? We're in her safe house, after all. Rumi is...she isn't being forced to do anything."

"I know you feel as though you have to put everything and everyone on your shoulders, but you don't," Nya spoke, her voice unwavering with a newfound determination, "The boys were prophesied to be your protectors, not the other way around-"

"And they're gone now! Master Wu, Cole, Zane, Jay, Kai, they're all dead! And if anyone else is going to die, I'd rather it be myself then you!" Lloyd shouted back, his eyes welling with tears, but the red coming through more than the brown.

Nya swallowed back her anger. Lloyd was grieving, he always felt the need to take personal responsibility, even when it wasn't his to be responsible for, and while that worked with Master Wu and the others, she was not going to let him do this to himself.

"I'm going to protect you from Harumi, Garmadon, The Sons of Garmadon, and anyone else who tries to fuck with you. I don't care that you don't want me to, that you feel as though offering yourself as a martyr will make this better, I'm going to," she got off the edge of the bed and started to make her way to the door, only stopping when she heard him sniffle.

"I know your life has been scarred by tragedy. That every time something good happens, something worse has to destroy it. But going into this rebellion, this...resistance, with the attitude of wanting to die for it…" she trailed off, finally turning around to see Lloyd's eyes on her, the tears finally leaving her eyes, "Lloyd, that will kill you. And I am not losing anyone else, not after today."

And with that, she finally left the room, only waiting for the door to click shut before allowing her grief to fully consume her.

'I can't believe I'm saying this, but Kai would've handled that better than I did.'

•••

Lloyd wasn't sure how much time passed from when Nya left his room to when he heard the door open, announcing Skylor's arrival with food, medicine, blankets and other essentials.

If he was being completely honest, he wasn't sure how long it had been since he had been held over the monorail by Rumi and…

The sinking feeling in his stomach made him want to curl up and sleep for weeks, but because of him and his stupid mistakes, he didn't get the luxury.

They didn't have much time before they got hunted down by the Sons of Garmadon, just enough time to patch up their injuries and now that Skylor was here, that meant she found a more permanent hiding spot.

Lloyd knew he should've listened to Kai when that motorcyclist nearly ran him off the road, but thinking back on it, he knew fully well why he didn't.

A year ago, when he had to take up the mantle of master for his team, he would've given everything up just to see his father again, even if that was in the cursed realm.

But now...now he was starting to think he'd be okay if he never saw him again, the memory of what Zane had said to Jay on the Island of Darkness ringing true in his head.

'"Perhaps it is better to remember our friends as we knew them in our hearts. Not as they are now."'

He remembered telling his mother that he didn't remember his father any other way, only for her to insist that he loved him and that it was the venom of the Great Devourer that did this.

But now...now he did remember his father. And this was not him, no matter how much the little voice in his head, the scared kid who didn't know where his destiny would lead him, insisted that it was. That he had saved him before, that he could save him again.

Lloyd stood on his shaking legs, still weak from his fight in the prison, and made his way to the main room.

Chen's takeout boxes were on the table and the others were scarfing down food like there was no tomorrow, but they stopped when he came in the room and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak.

He adjusted so he was leaning against the doorway, his legs already threatening to collapse under him, before addressing the four members of his group who remained.

"I can't promise that the Sons of Garmadon aren't going to take us down, that my father will...do something worse. But what I can promise is that ninja never quit," he stopped for a second, his eyes catching Nya's small but determined smile, "and I know that not all of us are ninja, but we are something that could be even stronger."

He took a deep breath, memories of Jay, Kai, Zane, Cole, his brothers and memories of his uncle flooded his vision, before returning to the present.

"We are the resistance. And the resistance never quits."

#ninjago hands of time #lego ninjago #ninjago #ninjago sons of garmadon #ninjago hunted #my writing #sibling trio #kai ninjago #kai and nya and lloyd #lloyd montgomery garmadon #nya ninjago #mentioned jaya #mentioned kaylor #past lloyd/harumi #angst #hurt/comfort #family #lloyd blames himself for a lot of things

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quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH48

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 48: Star Death Reality Show (XXXI) {cw: misgendering}

"Will Qi Leren be alright?" Dr. Lu, who had already run away, looked at Du Yue behind him in a panic and murmured in a low voice, "I have a bad feeling."

"Qianbei will be fine," Du Yue said confidently.

"No, let's go down and have a look. If he’s in trouble, we can help," Dr. Lu said.

"Okay, let's go." Du Yue was fine with it.

The two people studied the route to find the safest passage. Dr. Lu's sense of direction was bad, and Du Yue wasn’t much better. Two headless flies wandered around the institute and accidentally found intermittent blood on the ground.

The two walked along the blood trail, and finally found the injured Lara in a hidden room. Her injury wasn’t serious, but her spirit was not good. After seeing Du Yue and Dr. Lu, she was silent for a long time, and her voice was hoarse as she asked: "Have you seen Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue?"

The two shook their heads, and Lara sighed: "I'm afraid they’re in danger."

Lara told them what had happened after they ran away. Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue disappeared quickly, but Janet, Alex and Lara were together. They’d had an argument because Francis had been parasitized by an octopus. Janet strongly suspected that Lara was parasitized, and Lara would naturally not admit to such false accusations. During the argument, they met Leviathan, who had been thrown off by Qi Leren once before.

Janet, who was the closest to Leviathan, was the first to be killed. Alex tried to escape, but Leviathan jumped up again. Alex, who was eager to get rid of it, tried to push Lara out, and even stabbed Lara with a dagger. However, Lara had a strong will to survive. She took the dagger regardless of her injury and stabbed Alex’s vitals with a knife. She hid in a room, locked the door, and crawled away from the vents.

After that, Lara tenaciously fled the whole way, and finally came here and met Du Yue and Dr. Lu.

"We also met the monster, and Qi Leren led it away. Here's the thing..." Dr. Lu plainly told the story again, and finally asked, "We’re going to find Qi Leren. Would you like to join us?"

Lara touched the wound on her hand and nodded firmly: "Let's go."

This time, all three people were in a heavy mood. Especially after seeing the incomplete bodies of Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue, Lara cried sadly and asked aloud, "Are we the only ones left? Is Qi still alive?"

Janet and Alex had undoubtedly died by Leviathan's mouth, as well as Jing Siyu and Jing Siyue. Francis, Annie, Mark and Xue Jiahui were all parasitized. He Yi became Leviathan’s host. Only four of them had survived, and among them, Qi Leren’s life and death were still uncertain.

"Of course he’s still alive!" Dr. Lu said firmly. "He must still be alive!"

　　&&&

In the vast underground ice palace.

"Prophet, are you awake?" A blindfolded woman stood up from the chair of carved ice and respectfully saluted him. The ice and snow maids who were responsible for guarding the underground ice palace also bent over in salute.

"Soothsayer? Is it your rotation today?" asked the Prophet.

"It should have been the Iillusionist’s turn, but he had something to do, so we changed it," the Soothsayer replied.

"How is that boy recently?" When it came to the Illusionist, the Prophet's tone was clearly casual.

"Not bad, I heard that he made an interesting new friend, and he played tricks on others all day long." The Soothsayer smiled and asked again, "This time, you slept for a much shorter time than expected. Is something wrong?"

"It's not an accident." The Prophet frowned and looked up at the dome of ice and snow, but his line of sight seemed to pass through the thick layer of ice and look at the vast universe.

The blindfolded Soothsayer could not see his expression at the moment, but she could feel his inner unrest.

"Someone has discovered their original force, and that force is biased towards us," said the Prophet.

The Soothsayer breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, and said, "Isn't this a good thing? Although it’s only the first step, it’s always ahead of the other sentient beings on the starting line. Maybe it will eventually condense a half-field or even a field."

It was only the first step to discover one's original force, and it would take some difficult self-testing to condense a half-field, but this already meant that this person was about to embark on a road different from ordinary players. Any master at the field level started from this first step. Although most people would fall in the long road of experience, everyone who had reached the field level had terrible strength.

The Prophet sighed faintly: "It’s too early to talk about field condensation... Although I’m optimistic about him, I didn’t expect it to be so fast. This may not be a good thing for him. There are still too many problems in his body that have not been solved."

The Soothsayer asked curiously, "Do you know that man? What is his original force?"

The Prophet sensed the new force full of vigor and hope, and gently spoke the answer:

"Rebirth."

　　&&&

In the deep underground glacier wrapped in eternal cold, the temperature was 60 degrees below zero. When human beings were exposed to this environment, it only took a few minutes for the blood in the nose and ears to be unable to maintain circulation because of the cold, and the cells would quickly die.

This underground world without light seemed destined to be forgotten in the cold.

Crushed skull, whole body fracture, ruptured organs, internal and external bleeding... Worse than that, when falling from that height, the speed would return to zero at the moment of contact with the ground, and the body would be deformed instantly under the huge force of the impact. Even the space alien Leviathan, whose vitality was extremely terrible, was seriously injured after falling and fell into a deep sleep.

To say nothing of a human being.

Death was the only outcome.

But suddenly, something moved in the ruinous "tomb" created from broken ice.

And then moved again.

Qi Leren felt as if he was in an icy hell. Every time he breathed, thousands of ice needles punctured his internal organs crazily, which made him feel miserable. He couldn't even think of why he felt so painful and cold, or where he was.

Under this inhuman pain, he only felt that he didn't want to live any longer, but he couldn't even die.

Breathing returned, heartbeat returned, he still couldn't open his eyes, he could only move with all his might. The stones and ice blocks on his arms also moved and collapsed violently, and his sound echoed in the lifeless darkness.

Qi Leren's consciousness gradually returned, and he remembered who he was, but he still didn't realize where he was. He complained crazily in his mind that the air conditioner in his room was too cold, and that he had even accidentally fallen from the bed, and now he couldn't move.

But how could it hurt so much? It was like all his bones were broken.

Qi Leren's confused thinking leaped illogically. He saw many things, and the broken pictures rampaged in front of his eyes, but they just passed away. All he remembered was that he saw a pair of blue eyes.

Blue eyes.

Ning Zhou.

The name suddenly appeared in Qi Leren’s, which was like a spell to unlock the seal on his memories. Countless heavy memories were bearing down, which were more painful than the rose thorn stuck in his heart.

He was going to find Ning Zhou, and he was going to bring him back.

Qi Leren finally recalled his mission, and he began to struggle, struggling to get up from the tomb built from broken ice. Just turning over exhausted his strength, and he had to lie prone on the ground and breathe for a while, only to recover his strength slowly.

He noticed the time. It has been twenty hours since he’d fallen from the ice cliff. It was ten o'clock on the fifth night. The fifth day’s Best of the Day had already been announced, but he didn't know who it was. At the same time, his privacy time has been reset with the new day day, and he had another ten hours.

If you fell from such a high place, the tracking camera should be damaged. If not, the low temperature here should make it unable to work normally. But just to be on the safe side, turn it off.

"Turn off the camera." Qi Leren squeezed his voice out of his dry throat, and coughed wildly as soon as he finished speaking. His mouth was full of the fishy sweetness of blood, which made Qi Leren feel queasy.

Suddenly there was a light sound in the dark, as if a stone had been pushed down.

Qi Leren immediately took out a flashlight from the item bar and shone it in the direction of the sound.

Not far away, there is a mound of rocks and crushed ice, and a tentacle was slowly sticking out from the inside, which was extremely slow and seems to be seriously injured.

That thing wasn't dead yet? Or did it sense the breath of the living again and wake up from hibernation?

Qi Leren struggled from the ground. Although he was mysteriously resurrected, his left hand, which was bitten off by Leviathan, still didn't grow back. If he tried this again, he would only die.

But fortunately, he had a key item that had cooled down.

When the Prophet's Heart was used again, Qi Leren felt subtly different from the last time. The phantom angel falling from the sky came to him and took him away from the terrible world to the carefree Garden of Eden. Under the cover of God's grace, he didn't need to worry, and he didn't feel fear. The world was like sand in his hand, and he could easily knead it into the shape he wanted.

Heavy rocks and ice were pushed away with a flick, exposing Leviathan lying on the ground dying. This horrible monster had a red eye, and this huge eyeball was full of ferocious madness.

There was an invisible giant clock behind him, and the pointer walked quickly. As long as it finished three laps, the power he borrowed would be like the chime of midnight, dissipating all magic.

He had to hurry.

Qi Leren held out his hand and raised his palm in the void. Leviathan floated and began to roar and struggle, but this degree of resistance had no effect before the original force. Moving the palm of his hand slowly, Qi Leren felt that he could easily knead it into pieces, just like what he did to Mark's octopus.

But this was not the only way. Qi Leren felt the mystery of time and carefully explored its secret. A mysterious feeling emerged in his heart. He rubbed his fingers and the sands of time slowly flowed down in his hands.

Leviathan floating in the air as if it had been cast in magic. Its shell was rapidly aging, coated with a layer of rust, and finally it seems to be petrified. Its body was full of cracks, and finally it turned into powder like beach sand, which sprinkled to the ground slowly, leaving a golden treasure chest and a round sphere.

Qi Leren waved his hand, and these two things fell into his hands. The treasure chest was opened, which was an item.

[Lucky Revolver: There are six slots in this gun’s chamber, one of which is loaded with a bullet. Shooting at one's own temple can give one minute of absolute defense within a radius of 500 meters around the locked target, but the absolute defense is invalid for this bullet. Even if you are lucky, God will only give you five minutes. If you are not afraid of death, you can continue for another minute. Locked target: not set.]

Qi Leren immediately decided that this was of no use to him, because he would blow his head off with the first shot, and unless it was matched with S/L, it was a waste.

Disappointed, he looked at the other object, which was an eyeball as big as a bowl. The scarlet pupil seemed familiar. It was called [Leviathan's Eyeball].

What was this thing? There wasn’t even a brief introductory description, which reminded Qi Leren of another prop without a brief introduction, namely, the "Scepter of Hell", which Maria had entrusted him to give to the Prophet.

Time was running out, and the clock representing his time limit only had half a rotation left. The translucent wings behind the Qi Leren lifted him, flying over the deep underground glacier, crossing the collapsed ice tunnel, flying all the way along the coming road, and returning to the iron door at the entrance before time ran out.

"Qi Leren? You’re still alive? That’s great!" "Qianbei! Are you alright? Qianbei! How did you grow wings!" "Qi, are you alright?" The three people wandering around the door with flashlights rushed up in surprise at the sight of Qi Leren.

Prophet's Heart’s time was up, and Qi Leren landed on the ground. After the sacred power retreated, he sat down weakly and walked out of the underground ice cave with the help of the three panicking people.

"It's okay, it's all taken care of. Just in case, we should quickly leave here, seal the exits, and wait for rescue." Although Qi Leren was still in the aftershocks of coming back from the dead, his mind was clear, and he clearly commanded the three people. He was worried about whether there were any octopuses hatching in the research institute, but he was afraid to say it now, for fear that after his mouth moved, his good luck would run out.

Du Yue had great strength, and single handedly carried Qi Leren, who had lost his arm, on his back. He listened to the three people say what had happened after they’d split up, learning that after discovering that the other people had become Leviathan's food, the three people had come to the bottom of the institute to look for Qi Leren. They went in several times, but the temperature inside was horribly low. Unlike Qi Leren who had been blessed by the holy light, they finally had to retreat, worried that Qi Leren was dead.

Qi Leren didn't say that he and Leviathan had fallen off the ice cliff together, only that Leviathan had fallen off, and that he was injured and unconscious for a long time but didn't die. Finally, God blessed him and gave him strength to return to them.

Dr. Lu and Du Yue were very embarrassed, but Lara was very moved. She took Qi Leren's remaining right hand and sincerely said, "When we go back, introduce me to your teachings. I’m willing to be baptized."

Qi Leren, who had no intention of preaching at all, was in a distressing situation. One atheist has destroyed the worldviews of another atheist through acting skills and unscientific miracles—maybe more than one. Should he be sealed as a saint or something?

They left the underground research institute, blocked the exit, left the basement, and returned to the surface. The night was bright and the whole land was covered with white snow and ice. Lara, who was the first to leave the room, pointed to the sky in surprise and shouted: "Look, what is that!"

The three people raised their heads and looked at the approaching black spots.

"Is it... Is the rescue coming?" Dr. Lu was excited.

"Great." Qi Leren also breathed a sigh of relief. The copy was coming to an end, and they could return to the Nightmare World soon.

The spacecraft was getting closer and closer, and before long, they would be able to board the spacecraft safely and leave, but the spacecraft was slow to land. The four people waited anxiously, just like waiting for a late plane.

"It seems like something’s wrong." Lara stood up and looked at more and more spacecrafts that had no intention of landing. "What are they waiting for?"

A thought flashed through Qi Leren's mind: "Are they a civilian spacecrafts?"

"No, these are..." Lara said, her voice stopping abruptly.

A beam more dazzling than sunlight converged on the muzzle of the spacecraft, and the terrible energy was aimed at this planet!

Stunned, the four people watched the devastating attack on the plane beneath their feet, and they couldn't help feeling shocked. They had never thought that, after escaping death from a horrible space alien, they would finally die at the hands of their own people. In order to prevent the octopus from spreading, the army gave up the idea of a rescue landing and blasted the whole planet to pieces at a safe distance, where there was no risk of contact.

At the last second in this copy world, Qi Leren and the others were judged to have completed the task requirement of "surviving until the army arrived", and left the world in the light of the blast.

-----

Editor’s Notes: Obviously those items can only have positive results, right?

As a bonus for the end of this arc, BMBL wrote a collection of the program audience’s reactions on her Weibo. They’re posted as images so I can’t easily throw them into an mtl, but here’s the link for anyone who wants to take a stab at it: https://weibo.com/1741082525/F4b6D7Upr

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the-sympathetic-villain · 3 years

Text

L’Appel Du Vide - Chapter 2

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Logan has been captured by a government agency who researches human with supernatural powers. Able to manipulate the world with his mind and tell what others are thinking, Logan finds himself in one of the most high security government prisons in the country that's run by a sinister Dr. Emile Picani. After several long months of deprivation and torture at the hands of Dr Picani, a devilish-looking man with scales on his face will break into the prison looking for Logan's less than friendly bunkmate, but will he be too late? Prompt by @LoganIsACoolTeacher on AO3

Endgame pairings: Lociet, Intruality, Prinxiety

Word Count: 3323

Chapter Warnings: Blood, Crying, Depression, Casual Suicidal ideation, Depriving someone of food, Captivity, Solitary confinement, Knife, Threats of violence, Swearing, Mentions of abuse/torture, Injuries, Panic Attack, Food (Let me know if need to add anything!)

---

The first night, Logan screamed himself hoarse well into the middle of the night. His body ached with misery, as he yelled and pulled at his restraint. His wrist was bruised and he could feel a this stream of blood dripping from where the metal had cut into his skin but he kept fighting until his body collapsed with exhaustion and he was forced into a restless sleep.

Agony burned in his chest as the long hours dragged by in absolute silence. Being alone was a rare experience for Logan and one he adamantly avoided. While the sound of the constant chattering of strangers thoughts would probably sound nightmarish to the average person, he'd grown accustomed to the comforting presence of others' thoughts. He was used to the white noise, and though he knew it was irrational, the sudden silence growing nearly painful with every hour that passed.

The second night, the isolation started to dig its claws into the corners of his mind. The restraint on his wrist limited his movement to only a few feet around the bed and so far, he'd spent hours staring into the empty window on the far side of the room. Anger twisted in his stomach at the thought that he was likely being watched through the one-way reflective surface and he felt like screaming at his silent observers until his voice gave out, but the previous night’s experience had already proved that effort would be futile. Expending the energy would only make him hungrier.

All he could do was wait.

The third day, he'd woken to find the restraint on his wrist had been released while he'd slept. He blinked, unsure of what this new revelation meant for him. Rubbing his sore wrist, he sat up to scan the quiet room. The door remained closed, and likely locked, but somehow a container of water has found its way into the room. He stepped off the bed, glancing cautiously at the one-way mirror as he approached the glass jug sitting at the base of his door. He was aware of the danger. Tampering with his water supply would be a simple way to entrap him or drug him, but his thirst quickly overrode any hesitation he had. They were his only access to resources and he knew he'd have to give in eventually or risk simply dying of dehydration. Not to mention, quite frankly, if the people in this place decided to kill him, he had little recourse in stopping them. No amount of bargaining would change that fact that he was at their mercy.

Next to the water, he found a fresh change of clothes. The sight of fresh white hospital-like clothing brought a bitter taste to his mouth as memories of the night before came rushing back. He hadn't seen a hint of another person since the doctor had left him, taking with him the only people who might be even remotely sympathetic to his situation. He brushed his thumb over the stiff fabric picturing the faces of the two other prisoners who'd been dressed in the same sterile uniform as he now held in his hand. Still, he changed his clothes, feeling a new level of numb as he changed in front of the window.

Numbness had settled in fully by the fourth night. The hunger left him too weak to stay focused on anything for long. The water provided for him sustained his body in only the barest sense and he could feel his willpower draining away as he spent more time curled in his bed, mind blank as he succumbed to the silence. That night, a particularly sinister breed of depression had taken root in his mind, pushing him toward the precipice of giving up. Dark, self-destructive thoughts clouded his mind as finally drifted off to sleep, making his abrupt awakening all the more jarring as he opened his eyes to find a sharp blade pressed to his throat and a shadow with glowing purple eyes looming over him.

“Move and I'll slit your throat.”

Pure adrenaline flooded over Logan at the familiar voice. The man who'd nearly strangled him the first night straddled his chest, silhouetted against the dark room by the eerie red light. Logan swallowed, barely breathing as he as he pressed himself backward, tilted his head away from the blade.

“You will answer my questions.”

A whimper escaped Logan’s lips, but he forced a small nod, hardly daring to move under the delicate pressure of the sharp blade.

“Why's Picani interested in you?”

“I don't kn—”

“Find a better answer.” The man's hiss sent chills down his spine as the knife moved up Logan’s neck. “The other night, you blew me back into the wall like a goddamn ragdoll. What’s was that?”

Logan sucked in a shallow breath as he struggled to keep his weak body breathing. “Tele—telekinesis.”

“Do not fuck with me right n—”

“I’m not—” Logan breathed, closing his eyes. “I can move things with my mind—”

The blade pressed against his throat with a preciseness just short of drawing blood. “If that were true, why haven’t you blasted me again?”

“I—I don't control it. I never learned how.” Logan blinked, surprised as the blade released a touch of pressure. He blinked, staring up at blank expression on the man's face as he continued.

“Picani’s guard said you'd feed on me.” The man growled his disbelief as he glared down at Logan. “Explain.”

“I don’t know what he was—"

“Not good enough.” The man's deep voice growled above him as the blade returned to his throat. "If you don't start talking, I'll—"

“Please—” Logan whimpered as the sharp nicked his throat and a thin line of blood dripped down his neck. “—It's not what you think.”

“Then explain,” The man’s eyes flashed dangerously as he continued but the pressure of the blade eased slightly. “before I start to get impatient.”

Logan swallowed, feeling a wet streak trail down his face. “Others’ thoughts—I hear them.”

“Are you telling me you feed on my thoughts?”

“No—“ Logan whispered as tears flowed freely down his face. “Please, I don’t know how it works but I can’t—It doesn’t hurt anyone. I wouldn't hurt anyone. Please—”

Logan clenched his eyes shut, stifling a terrified whimper as the blade moved up his neck. His heart pounded in his chest until the blade lifted slightly from his throat and a wet sob escaped his throat. He sucked in a breath as the man leaned back, knife still pointed in Logan's direction as he continued in a hushed tone.

“Are you listening to my thoughts right now?”

“N—no,” Logan breathed, avoiding the man's eyes. “I'm too weak. I can’t—I can’t do anything.”

The man was quiet for a long moment, eyes glinting in the red light as he stared at Logan. “What'd he do to you?”

“Who?”

“Picani,” The man's voice softened slightly. “The doctor, I mean. What's he done to you?”

“I—I’ve been kept alone and—” Logan bit his lip, uncertain about sharing the true depths of his weakness. “—and I haven’t eaten. Anything that fuels my power, he's taken it from me. I can't—I can't hurt you."

The silence hung in the air for a long, tense moment before the man spoke again, knife still inches from Logan's throat.

“Close your eyes.”

A chill crept up Logan’s spine at the seriousness in the man's voice. “Please, don't—”

“Don’t argue.”

Logan swallowed the lump in his throat as the glisten of the blade pointed at him inches from his face. Stilled trembling and tense, he let his eyes flutter closed.

“Move your hands where I can see them.”

“I'm already blind—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“Fine.” Logan muttered as he rested his head back on the pillow, lifting his hands in apparent surrender. After a moment, he could feel the bed shift as the man climbed off the bed in absolute silence. Logan strained his ears, but he was unable to trace the man’s careful movements after he stepped onto the flow. He slowed his breathing and forced himself to remain still, unsure of how the man would react to even the smallest twitch.

“If Picani finds out I have a knife because you rat me out, I will not hesitate to kill you with my bare hands.”

Logan bit his lip, body shaking as he gave a stiff nod. “U-understood.”

“Telling him won’t protect you.” The man continued gruffly. “It will only put me in danger.”

“I won't tell him.” Logan swallowed. “You have my word.”

“Your word doesn’t mean shit to me.”

A bitter from twitched at the corner of Logan’s lip. “The man dropped you back in here in the middle of the night, while I was weak and defenseless, knowing full well that you'd already made one attempt on my life. I'm not so much of a fool to believe him my ally.”

“Picani was hedging his bets that you'd appeal to my good will.”

Logan let out a huff, dropping his head to his chest. “Well, it appears he made a miscalculation.”

“Perhaps.” Virgil sighed quietly after a moment. “Or perhaps not. You can have this, but I want you to give me back the wrapper, so I can hide it later.”

A small object struck Logan’s chest, causing him to flinch back with a sharp breath. His muscles tensed as his eyes cautiously fluttered open to reveal the ominous sight of the stranger’s eyes glinting at him through the darkness. Slowly, he sat upright, maintaining eye contact as he turned his head down to stare at the protein bar in his lap.

“Don't make a mess.”

Glancing cautiously up at the other man’s stiff form, Logan leaned forward to tear at the wrapper. He wasn’t sure what had brought about the sudden change of heart, but he wasn’t about to waste his first chance for food in three days. His hands shook as he attempted to tear into the difficult piece of plastic, growing desperate as the man above him tensed.

“Hey, be careful!” The man held up a hand, stopping as Logan flinched at his volume. He paused, giving Logan a quick sympathetic look before edging closer. “Listen, hand it over for a second.”

Logan hesitated, gripping the bar tightly as if his life depended on it.

“Listen, dude. It's all yours, I swear.” The man whispered with a wary smile, holding up his friends as he dropped down on the side of the bed. His movements were slow, as if he was suddenly deliberately making an attempt to be non-threatening. “Just let me open it for you so you don’t make a mess. I don’t want to get backlash for helping you out. Okay?”

“Okay.” Logan whispered after a moment of tense silence, keeping his head bowed from the man's gaze as the man took the bar from his hands. “Thank y—”

“Don't thank me.” The man cut him off sternly. He made quick work of tearing the wrapper open before offering it back to Logan. “What's your name?”

“Logan.”

“Okay, Logan. Mine's Virgil.”

The man whisper filled the air as he waited patiently for Logan to take the bar from the wrapper. Logan took a quick bite, watching the man in his periphery as he chewed the small offering of food slowly. His body ached for him to finish faster, but he didn't want to be caught off guard if the man suddenly changed his mind.

“Listen, I'm sorry.” Virgil muttered as Logan took another bite. “I know I must have scared the shit out of you just now.”

Logan blinked up in mild surprise at the man's change in tone, still wary of the man's anger as he swallowed his first bite.

“You were being cautious.”

“That doesn’t suddenly make any of this shit okay,” Virgil muttered as he crumpled the wrapper into his pocket and stared at his lap. “The way I reacted is straight fucked, but you got to know that Picani only keep his most dangerous subjects this deep into the labs. You're not the first piece of fresh meat Picani’s dropped in my bunk—And when I heard the guards talking about you feeding on me, I panicked.”

“I assume the doctor has given you plenty of reason to be wary of newcomers.” Logan whispered, still slightly unnerved by the man's choice of words. “H-how long have you been here?”

“Long enough that I stopped counting the days.”

Virgil absently ran his fingers through his hair as Logan took in the sight of the man for the first time. His white attire seemed dirtier than before, especially next to the stark white color of Logan’s matching attire. Logan’s eyes tipped up to the man's face. Fresh bruises covered his face and arms and large pieces of gauze appeared to have been haphazardly applied to his head and around his elbows in a poor attempt at first aid for whatever injuries he sustained over the last few days.

"W-where did they take y—”

“Don’t ask.” Virgil interrupted abruptly, glancing at the fearful look in Logan’s eyes as he cut him off. He paused, briefly considering the harshness his words before looking up at Logan. “You'll find out soon enough and trust me, you'll wish you never found out.”

“The doctor—He hurts you because of your powers.” Logan observed, curling his knees to his chest as Virgil’s dark gaze turned back to him. “Doesn't he?”

Virgil blinked up at him. "How did you—"

"I saw you starting to turn invisible before the doctor walked in on us." Logan bit his lip, looking shyly at his lap. "Just after I blew you back into the wall."

"Huh, well, its not invisibility." Virgil huffed, dropping his shoulders as he pointed up at the red lights. "I can manipulate light. It's the reason for all of those."

"What?" Logan furrowed his brow, glancing at the strange lights.

"I can't shift red light as easily as the rest of the spectrum." Virgil muttered bitterly. "They put these in here to make sure that Picani always knows where I'm at."

"And he hurts you because of these abilities?"

"He runs tests." Virgil blinked, looking up a the fear Logan was barely concealing behind his eyes. “Picani’s a bastard and this—” Virgil muttered, looking disgusted as he stared at his bandages before glancing over at Logan. “—is nothing. He's done much worse to me when he gets worked up. He says its about figuring out how I do it, but if you ask me, he just gets off on hearing me scream.”

Logan's skin tingled with fear and he could feel tears growing in his eyes as he swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. “I felt like that might be the case.”

“He owns us. We’re not even people to him.” Virgil’s words fel from his lips absently as he rambled. “And when Picani gets a new subject, he's miserable. He a whole new level of sadism and miser—Shit.”

Virgil paused as Logan sucked in a sharp breath, shaking from the overwhelming series of events from the last few nights.

“Hey, don't panic.” Virgil jolted upright, turning to rest his hands on Logan’s shoulders. “Wait—No, no, just breathe with me. Don't panic.”

Logan sucked in a ragged breath as Virgil rested a hand on his chest, applying a gentle pressure to help ground him. His throat ached as he tried to suppress another sob and Virgil curled an arm around his shoulder.

“You are going to get through this, Logan.” Virgil hushed him urgently. “God. I'll help you but you need to stop. You can't lose it now.”

“I—I’m sorry.” Logan felt himself tugging on his hair as he whispered between ragged breaths. " I'm s-s-sorr—"

“It's okay.” Virgil whispered insistently, tightening his grip on Logan’s shoulders. “You're going to be okay. Just get your breathing under control.”

Logan nodded, body aching as he suppressed the overwhelming panic seizing his muscles. Slowly, through Virgil’s gentle touches and kind words his breathing returned to normal and his muscles started to relax.

“There you go.” Virgil let out a sigh, leaning back. "You did okay."

“I'm sorry.” Logan whispered between pained breaths. “I'm being irrational—”

“Don’t do that to yourself. Your reaction is the only thing that makes sense in this godforsaken place,” Virgil’s eyes tipped sympathetically towards Logan in the dark, flashing with the knowledge of their grim reality. “but you can’t afford to be emotional here. You'll get hurt if you do this around the wrong people.”

Logan paused, feeling his breathing slow a bit at the kind look in Virgil’s glowing purple eyes. “Thank you for your help.”

“I mean it. You can't react like that with the doctor.” Virgil whispered, roughly wiping away the streaks of tears off his cheeks. “The doctor will exploit every fear you show him. You have to be stronger than him.”

“O-okay.” Logan whispered, still trembling as Virgil talked him through his panic.

“Find a place in your head that you can disappear to when you’re in his hands.” Virgil stated with a pitiful smile as he stared at Logan’s distant stare. “Whatever you do, don’t show him what you’re feeling.”

“I will—um, thank you for the advice.”

“It's nothing.” Virgil muttered quietly. “Consider it an apology for waking you up with a shiv to you throat. Alright?”

Logan sucked on his lip, curling his knees to his chest. “It's fine. I realize now why you acted in such a manner.”

"It's not fine, but whatever." Virgil shrugged as his lip twitched with guilt. “but either way, you look like shit and I think you should get some rest.”

“I'm not sure if I’ll be able to sleep at this point.”

“You need to try. You need whatever energy you can get to get through tomorrow.”

Logan blinked up at the serious tone in Virgil’s voice as he slid up on the bed and faced the door.

“I'll keep an eye out and wake you before Picani and his goons show up. Okay?”

“S-sure.” Logan whispered, chilled by the seriousness in Virgil’s voice.

“You can trust me on this, Logan.” Virgil paused raising an eyebrow at Logan. “There’s not much I can do to protect you, but at the very least, I won’t let Picani catch you by surprise.”

Logan let out a breath as Virgil patted the bed next to him. Stiffly, Logan slid over to him and slipped underneath the thin blanket. Uneasily, he rested down on the pillow next to where the Virgil perched, staring at the door. “Thank you, Virgl. I—I know you don't have to help me.”

“I want to.” Virgil muttered under his breath almost to himself. His voice was so quiet Logan nearly didn’t catch the end of his statement. “I never meant for anybody to get hurt.”

Logan blinked, considering Virgil’s words as a deep exhaustion crept over him. He leaned his head back on the pillow, staring up at the distant look in Virgil’s eyes as he stared at the closed door of their cell. He sighed. Falling asleep next to the stranger who'd had a knife to his throat only minutes seemed like an impossible feat but only a few short minutes had passed before the exhaustion began to outweigh his anxiety. He could feel his eyelids dropping even as his heart fluttered with fear of the man next to him. This had to be a mistake and Logan was well aware of that fact. Yet, as his mind drifted off to sleep, he found himself easing to sleep with the madman with the knife next to him anyway.

---

Author’s Note: That’s it for now, but hopefully it won’t be too much longer before we get to here more about these poor boys. Thanks for reading, and again, if you want to be on the taglist, all you have to do is let me know!

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts logan #logan sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #tw weapon #tw abuse #tw food #L'Appel Du Vide #villain writes

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heauxplesslydevoted · 4 years

Text

Fire & Desire (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

Summary: After the funeral, Naomi heads to Ethan’s apartment for comfort. Let’s pretend that 30 diamond scene in chapter 12 didn’t happen, okay? I made up 95% of this.

A/N: Guys, I have an embarrassing amount of rewrites/drafts of this on my computer. Pls enjoy.

~v~

In order to survive the past few days, Naomi has made it her mission to get through things one step at a time. Her first goal was to survive the toxin. She did. Then it was to just get well and be discharged from the hospital. The last step was to make it through Danny and Bobby’s joint memorial service in one piece. Not only did she do that, but she delivered a eulogy flawlessly, while her friends and colleagues all fell apart at the seams and waited for her to do the same.

But now that it’s all over, now that there’s no goal to work towards especially since Naveen won’t let her back in the hospital without clearance from a therapist, Naomi has never felt more lost or out of sorts in her life.

After the memorial, Naomi went home with her roommates and she regrets it. Jackie and Elijah can barely look at her without giving her pity glances, Sienna has been trying to feed her nonstop, and Aurora has convinced them all that she’s spiraling due to her meltdown at Ethan earlier that day. So she hid in her bedroom, pretending to be asleep simply because she was tired of them.

But sleep evades her. Outside of a quick 15 minute power nap, Naomi hasn’t been able to sleep, thoughts of being back in that hospital room never too far from her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, the fear took over, gripping her and refusing to let go.

So that’s how she ended up here, in Ethan’s apartment, on his couch, nursing a glass of scotch. Being at home wasn’t an option and there’s no one else she’d rather be with, so as soon as her roommates went to bed, Naomi slipped out and made her way across town to Ethan’s place. Ethan was shocked when he found her outside of his apartment at midnight, especially with the way their last conversation ended. He wanted to scold her for taking an Uber so late at night by herself, but of course he didn’t turn her away.

“Are you hungry?” Ethan asks, opening and closing his refrigerator a few times, as if that will make food magically appear. “I didn’t cook today, but I can probably throw something together.”

Naomi doesn’t know if her appetite still hasn’t returned or if it’s her mind playing tricks on her, as she can still taste the vomit in her mouth at the mere mention of food. “No, I’m fine for now.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.” Ethan wants to ask questions because she’s obviously come here for a reason, but he doesn’t want to push her. “It’s late and you must be exhausted though.” He walks back to his living room and holds out a hand, which Naomi grabs. He ushers her to his bedroom. “You can sleep in here.”

His room still looks like she remembers. The king sized bed takes up most of the space, and he still has the most amazing view in all of Boston. The night is still young and bustling, the buildings all lit up.

“You’re sleeping in here too, right?” Naomi asks.

“I was going to take the guest room, or the couch.”

Naomi shakes her head. “Nonsense, you’re sleeping with me.”

Even though there’s no light other than moonlight spilling into the room, Naomi can still see his cheeks tinge pink. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“I think after our night together in the hospital, assuming will be safe. It’s cute, but we’re grown and you won’t offend my virtue.”

“Noted.” Naomi watches him as he moves around the room, a sort of anxious energy radiating off of him. He rummages through a drawer until he finds something suitable for her to put on. “Here you go.”

It’s a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from a charity 5k because of course Ethan is the type to participate in something like that. Naomi rids herself of the jeans and sweater she haphazardly threw on in her rush to leave her apartment and slips on the t-shirt, forgoing the pants. Their obvious size differences make the shirt look comically large on her like a nightgown.

“Fair warning, I don’t have a scrunchie or anything to wrap my hair in, so I apologize if you wake up to like...a lion’s mane of hair in your face.”

“I think I’ll survive.”

Naomi pulls back the covers and slides into the bed, moaning upon contact. Oh, to be rich and have fancy high thread-count sheets and a memory foam mattress. “God, I never want to leave this bed.”

“Keep making noises like that, and I won’t let you.” He doesn’t climb bed behind her, opting to sit on the edge. “You want to talk?”

“About what?”

“The fact that you’re here right now, instead of your own apartment.”

“Is it not enough to say I wanted to see you?”

Ethan scoffs. Naomi is charming, but she can’t bullshit him. “Sure.”

She doesn’t want to talk about herself. That’s all she’s done for the past 48 hours, and she’s tired of it. It’s selfish.

She manages to turn the tables on Ethan. “You look tired. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” Ethan assures her. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

“I didn’t have you pegged as an insomniac.”

“We’re doctors, so it goes without saying that we’re all insomniacs.” Ethan sighs. “But to be honest, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep all week.”

“I get it. With the toxin, and Bobby and Danny, and Raf–”

“It’s not them, Naomi, it’s you,” Ethan argues. “I spend all 24 hours of the day with you on my brain, worrying about you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I thought you were going to die in my arms,” Ethan continues. “I tried to stay optimistic for you, but all I could think about was the fact that it could’ve been my last night with you. That night, after you finally fell asleep, I stayed up, analyzing your vitals. The only time I wasn’t looking at you is when I was looking at your chart. And every night since, I lay awake, forcing myself to not contact you.”

Naomi frowns. She’s spent so much time wrapped up in her own head, she didn’t take much time to think about how Ethan was affected as well. She’s sure she’d be a wreck if the situation was reversed, if he was the one fighting an unknown deadly agent.

She crawls out the sheets and joins Ethan at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think–”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me. You’ve been going through enough, I shouldn’t even be burdening you.”

“It’s fine. We shared deathbed confessions, I think I can handle whatever else you throw my way.”

Ethan turns to lock eyes with Naomi, her expression open and earnest. “I meant everything I said in there. I regret putting us on hold, and I’m sorry I wasted so much time.”

Naomi sucks in a deep breath. “Okay. So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m done pretending that I don’t have feelings for you. I’m done trying to hold you at arm’s length. I want you, Naomi.”

“Are you feeling like this because I almost died?”

“No. I mean, sure it was a major wake-up call for me, but I’ve felt this way for a long time. The last time you were here, the night of the softball game, I kissed you, and instead of making my intentions known then and there, I put it off, and that almost cost me everything. I don’t have all the answers, because I’m your boss, and people at hospitals like to gossip, but whatever this is, I want to explore it with you.”

Naomi doesn’t say anything, her brain and heart trying to process all of this information. Ethan watches her, his heart pounding wildly. Did he seriously miscalculate her feelings for him? Did he pick the most inopportune moment to drop this on her?

“It took you long enough,” Naomi says.

He laughs, his relief evident and he grabs her hand. “Well I appreciate you having the patience of a saint, Rookie.”

“It’s because I am a saint.”

He runs his thumb along the inside of her wrist, tracing a pattern into the warm skin. The steady thump of her pulse is enough to soothe the anxiety that lingers. She’s here. She’s with him. She’s alive.

His other hand grips the back of her neck, forcing her to look him in the eye. Ethan’s gaze sweeps across her face, his 11 years as a doctor having given him a keen eye for detail. There’s her long, dark eyelashes, her full lips, her pronounced cheekbones, her button nose that crinkles whenever she’s smiling and laughing, a sight he hopes to see again soon. He doesn’t know what emotion is more overwhelming: the relief that she’s alive, or the fear that she was that close to dying.

Ethan is all too aware of the fact that he could’ve lost her. That he and Naomi would never share a quiet moment like this ever again. That she’d never know the full extent of his feelings for her, because he’d been too much of a coward to be honest a long time ago. The thought of the hypothetical makes his insides twist uncomfortably. He can’t dwell on it, not while she’s here, looking to him for comfort.

Without thinking further, his lips slowly collide with hers, pulling the younger woman into a kiss. She wastes no time, kissing him back with an unrivaled fervor that borders on desperation, but Ethan isn’t one to complain. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping her mouth until he finds her own.

The kiss sparks something inside of Naomi, a buzz building in the pit of her stomach, so potent and all consuming, it nearly startled her. For the first time in what feels like forever, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just her and Ethan, and this magical little flame between them. So she clings to it, to him, to them, and swings one of her legs over, straddling him. One arm wraps around the back of his neck, one hand tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck as she pulls herself closer. He tastes smoky like the scotch they drank earlier, and she swears the kiss alone is enough to leave her intoxicated.

Desperate for any sort of friction, Naomi rolls her hips into his. She can feel him hardening beneath her, his erection straining through the thin layers of fabric preventing them from being completely bare with each other. Unable to help himself, Ethan breaks the kiss only to let out a low, “Fuck.”

He needs to stop this. Logically, Ethan knows that putting a kibosh in this is the right thing to do. Naomi came to him because she needs a support system, and the last thing he wants to do is take advantage of her trust and manipulate her grief.

“Naomi, stop,” Ethan gently commands, hands gripping her hips in order to keep her still.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“We don’t have to do this tonight,” Ethan says. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“But I don’t want to go to bed.”

“But you should.”

“No. I want this, I want you.”

Her lips are on his jaw, kissing and biting, and it’s becoming harder for him to stay focused. “You’ve had a very long day, it’s been emotionally draining, and I’m sure you’re exhausted–”

“Oh my God, stop!” Naomi exclaims. “I don’t need another person explaining to me what I’m going through or what I’m feeling. Trust me, no one is more aware of my shitty life than I am.” She leans forward resting her forehead against his. “I get it, I’m the one who barely survived an assassination attempt, and I’m going to walk around with that for the rest of my life. For tonight, can I just be a normal girl who wants to fuck her boyfriend, or whatever the hell you are to me? Please?”

Despite the circumstances, his cock twitches almost painfully as soon as the word “boyfriend” leaves her mouth. He’s a grown ass man, he hasn’t used the term since high school, and here he is, ready to dissolve into a puddle of goo. What the hell has Naomi Valentine done to him and who is this mess of a man that she’s replaced him with?

Whatever she’s trying to do won’t work. Pushing aside her grief and trying to avoid the problem with sex isn’t a coping mechanism he’d ever recommend (not that he has any brilliant ones of his own, but still). It’s not going to fix anything in the long run.

Naomi’s lips brush against his before giving him another teasing kiss before pulling away. “Please,” she whines. “I want you, Ethan.” Ethan has always considered himself to be a staunch man who isn’t easily swayed. Until he met Naomi. How can he be when she’s looking at him with those big doe eyes of hers, weakening his otherwise tough resolve? It may not help her tomorrow, but who is he to deny her reprieve at least right now? Saying no to her has never been a strength Ethan claimed to possess.

Not giving any sort of warning, Ethan grips the oversized shirt she’s wearing and forcefully pulls it up, barely giving her enough time to lift her arms and help with the process. Once the piece of clothing is discarded somewhere on his bedroom floor, Ethan flips their positions, Naomi’s back landing on his mattress with a soft thud.

He sucks in a sharp breath. Ethan considers himself to be a well traveled, well cultured man. He’s seen the Eiffel Tower multiple times, visited the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro, driven a Ferrari through the streets of Rome, drank wine while overlooking a Napa vineyard, and more. But none of those even comes close to the sight of Naomi naked in his bed, writhing on top of his sheets, her curly hair splayed out like a crown atop her head. She’s absolutely beautiful, and he’s a goner. He’s always known it, but this moment right here, right now actually seals the deal.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” Naomi asks, jolting Ethan out of his thoughts. He feels her dainty foot running along the soft cotton of his pajama pants before traveling higher, lightly brushing his side.

He catches her foot, his strong hand wrapping around her ankle, and yanks her forward. “I don’t need to take a picture because the real thing is just fine.” Maintaining eye contact, Ethan presses a line of kisses from her ankle to the inside of her knee, smirking as he feels the goosebumps pop up along the trail he’s set. “God, it really doesn’t take much to get you going, huh?”

“Not when it involves you, no,” Naomi replies.

Ethan drops her leg unceremoniously. His hands wander until they’re hooked into the waistband of her lacy underwear, and he pulls them down quickly, deciding not to make a production of it. A hum of approval leaves his throat when he finds her already soaked for him. He runs a finger along her spreading the wetness around before pressing the single digit into her. “I like that answer.”

Her toes curl at the contact and Naomi grips the sheets beneath her. “Oh, fuck.”

“Christ, you’re tight.”

“It’s been a while,” Naomi admits, panting heavily. “The guy I was into ran off to another continent, and put us on ice.”

Ethan can tell by her tone that she’s merely teasing, but his heart still hammers wildly nonetheless. He wasted so much time, and for what? He slides another finger into her, enjoying the moan she gives him in return. “It appears I have some atoning to do, hmm?”

Naomi nods. “A lot of atoning.”

“Very well.”

She feels him remove his fingers, and nothing makes her head spin more. Lifting herself up by her elbows, Naomi glares down at Ethan. “What are you doing? You can’t just stop!”

“Relax.” Ethan forces Naomi back to her originally flat position. “I think you know better than anyone that I’m going to take good care of you.” She chooses not to respond, because they both know the answer to that is a resounding yes.

He spreads her thighs and Naomi shivers at the gleam in his eyes, positively engraved by the way he looks at her: all lust and hunger. Desperate for Ethan to actually do something, she tilts her hips up, hoping he’ll get the hint.

Ethan chuckles and places an open mouthed kiss on the inside of her thigh. She swears she can feel herself buzzing with anticipation, her insides on fire, and all she wants him to do is just touch her.

When he finally does, she’s shocked she doesn’t combust then and there. Her head tips back and a low groan tumbles from her lips, and her thighs clamp shut so tightly around Ethan’s head, she’d be apologetic if she wasn’t so far gone. Ethan doesn’t skip a beat though, his fingers digging into her thighs and spreading them apart, and then he’s back to his original mission.

Ethan’s tongue glides through her folds with ease, stroking her up and down a few times before closing his mouth around her clit and sucking hard. Her hips fly off the bed and she grinds into him with a reckless abandon she hasn’t felt in a really long time, but Ethan splays a strong hand across her stomach to hold her down, trapping her between him and his bed.

Trying to gain a modicum of power back, Naomi grips a handful of his hair and tugs at it roughly. It’s an action that makes Ethan growl, his mouth vibrating against her.

Her little moans and cries do nothing to help the raging ego Naomi claims he has, instead they only fuel him further. He ups the ante, his two fingers sliding back into her, curling in a come hither motion and pressing repeatedly against the spot that makes her see stars.

He can tell by the vice grip she has on his fingers and the way she’s undulating against him that she’s close. And while he’s content to draw this out for as long as humanly possible, until he’s wrung every little ounce of pleasure from her that he can, Ethan is well aware that the woman occupying his bed doesn’t have that type of patience.

Giving her a bit of reprieve, he takes his mouth off of her, only moving it slightly so he can kiss the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

“God, Ethan.”

“Say my name again, Rookie,” Ethan commands. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Naomi obeys without as much as a second thought. It doesn’t take much to get her to say his name again, the word coming out as a shout in between a broken cry. Ethan smirks, satisfied with his work, and his tongue finds her clit, stroking the tiny bundle a few more times until her orgasm zips through her with the intensity of a lightning strike. Her entire body tenses up as Ethan continues to lap at her, as she rides out the aftershocks.

When she’s finally in control of her senses again, the first thing Naomi notices is how absolutely wrecked Ethan looks, eyes red and glossy, mouth and beard soaked, and she wants to do nothing more than kiss him. So she does, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him back on top of her. She can taste herself on his mouth and it makes her moan.

Impatient, Naomi reaches between their bodies and tugs at the waistband of his pants. Ethan receives the message loud and clear, and he breaks the kiss to strip as quickly as he can. She watches as Ethan flings his shirt across the room and kicks off his pajama bottoms. He isn’t the only one with above average observation skills, and she notices the slight tremble in his hands, the anticipation as intense for him as it is for her. She’d be lying if she said reducing this great and powerful man to nothing more than a shaky mess isn’t a turn on. Once his boxers are gone, Naomi looks him up and down, every part of him still as she remembered.

Her eyes zero in on his erection, painfully hard. She wraps her hand around him, stroking firmly. “My my, doctor, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like me.”

The other four letter L-word rattles around in his brain, begging to be set free, and with more strength than he thought he had, Ethan manages to keep quiet. He’d never forgive himself for such selfishness if he blurted out he loves her in the middle of sex. Naomi has enough to deal with already without that added layer of complexity.

Ethan’s thoughts are interrupted, a sharp hiss passing through his teeth as he feels her tongue languidly glide across the swollen head of his erection before taking him fully in her mouth.

He doesn’t know what will kill him first: how good it feels, or the fact that she’s staring up at him with those fucking Disney princess eyes again, feigning innocence like she’s unaware of exactly what she does to him.

He allows her to get in one more stroke of her tongue before he grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her away. One of her eyebrows raises in question. “What’s wrong? I was just getting started.”

He drags them back into bed before answering, “I need to be inside you. You can do whatever you want to me afterwards.”

She grins at the promise of a next time. Whatever she wants? “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Ramsey.”

“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise,” Ethan assures her.

Naomi feels him, poised at her entrance and she arches backwards, too overly sensitive. Ethan’s hands are back on her hips, holding her in place, and inch by inch, he fills her. They both groan at the sensation, familiar territory but something new entirely. Her hands fly to his back, nails digging into the skin as she’s stretched to maximum capacity, uncaring if she leaves marks.

Ethan is unsure of how long they’ve been like this, but he’s nearly shaking with the restraint it’s taking him to not thrust into her. He drops his head, kissing a line across her collarbone. “Fuck, baby, I need you to let me know when I can move.”

The pet name wasn’t intentional, spilling from Ethan’s lips before he could stop it, but Naomi whimpers regardless. She hooks her legs behind his back, keeping him just as trapped as she is. “Please.”

He moves slowly, partially to give her a chance to adjust to his size, the other reason because he doesn’t want it to be over as quickly as it started. This, being inside of her again, is overwhelming and Ethan can’t believe there was ever a time he thought he could go without.

“You’re incredible,” Ethan compliments.

“Okay, say it again when I’m not in your bed. Like during a team meeting where you’re shooting down my ideas.”

“You are,” Ethan insists.

He thrusts into her again, and Naomi cries out, nails raking at his back. Surely she’s broken skin at this point, but Ethan doesn’t care. He’s never been one for pain in bed, but with Naomi, he’s willing to make an allowance, especially since it leaves way for pleasure. They move in tandem, hips moving against each other, both trying to coax out the release that’s been building. Unable to do much of anything else, Ethan leans forward, kissing Naomi again. She meets him halfway, just as eager as he is.

Eventually she has to break the kiss, and she gasps in a large breath of air, her lungs constricting tightly in her rib cage. In her distracted moment, Ethan manages to free himself of her hands marking him relentlessly, and he captures both of her wrists in one fell swoop. He holds them above her head in one hand, pressing her as deep into the mattress as possible. The new angle catches her by surprise and she can’t do anything but gasp into the air above her.

“Please.” She doesn’t even know what she’s pleading for at this point, but it’s the only word her brain can comprehend so she chants it repeatedly like a prayer until she’s shattering around him, mouth open, head tipped back, skin flush and warm. She’s perfect like this, Ethan surmises.

It doesn’t take him more than a few more thrusts before Ethan’s own release takes control and he falls forward, leaning some of his weight onto Naomi. He doesn’t trust himself to not say or do something completely stupid, so he buries his face in the crook of her neck, biting down on the sensitive flesh.

It could’ve been mere minutes that they spent in that position, or it could’ve been hours for all Naomi knows, but when Ethan finally pulls out, he’s kissing her all over: her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.

He wraps her in a solid embrace, arms circling around her and holding her close, their erratic heart rates trying to slow down. Ethan feels at peace doing just this, holding her close to him, feeling the rise and fall of her chest.

Do you feel any better?”

That isn’t a question Naomi expects to hear right after sex, and it causes her to pause. After a few more moments of silence, she answers, “I mean, the endorphin release was great if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.”

Naomi knew going into it that the sex wasn’t going to soothe all of her hurts and be the magical solution to her problems, so she doesn’t need some major “I-told-you-so” moment from him. But for the first time in almost a week, she feels like herself again. Within the confines of these four walls, Ethan didn’t treat her like some fragile little doll, and her mind was able to take a break from overthinking.

“It was nice to turn my brain off, if only for a short time,” Naomi replies. “It was nice to not be a captive to my trauma.”

Ethan’s fingers gently graze her scalp, massaging. “Do you think you’re ready to talk to me now?”

“No.”

She’s as stubborn as ever. “Fair enough. But if we were to talk about it, I would say that you went through something horrible and traumatic, and you have to allow yourself to actually feel and process whatever emotions you have. I’d also say that you are incredibly strong, but your strength doesn’t mean that you have to bottle everything inside in order to make everyone around you feel better, especially when you’re with me. Strong people have the right to be vulnerable too.” Ethan sighs. “But since we aren’t talking about it, I’m not going to say any of those things.”

Naomi curls in closer to Ethan, comforted by his body warmth. “I think I would really enjoy hearing those things if this was a conversation we were having.”

“Good. Now whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be prepared.”

“Thank you.”

“I think it’s what good boyfriends do. Or whatever the hell I am to you. That’s what you said, right?”

“Okay, I have an explanation for getting agitated about the technical definition of our relationship.”

“Oh yeah? I’d love to hear it.”

“I was impatient and horny.”

Ethan laughs, the warm and rich sound curling around her insides. It does more to help than she’ll ever be able to convey to him. “You’re also very honest.”

“To a fault at times, yes.”

A silence settled between them again, and Naomi feels her eyelids getting heavier. Maybe she’ll be able to finally get some real sleep, not the fitful unconsciousness she’s been subjected to for the past few days.

“Thank you for indulging me tonight,” Naomi says.

He’s going to suggest she talk to a therapist. He’s going to say it multiple times, until he’s blue in the face and she’s tired of listening. But he'll leave her alone for tonight.

“You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep. The sooner you get to bed, the sooner we wake up, and I can cook breakfast for you.”

“Mhmm, sounds like a plan, Ramsey.”

Ethan can feel her falling asleep on him. He presses a kiss into her forehead. “Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“For the record, I am definitely your boyfriend.”

~v~

tags: @maurine07 @aka-calliope @edgiestwinter @soft-for-drake @greenbean-kylie @akshara16 @mrsramseyy @honeyandsunfl0wers @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

#open heart #open heart 2 #ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ns*fw #ns/fw

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