#//but before anyone gets any ideas with this PLEASE bear in mind that this sanctuary has a DIRECT TIE to Chamomile's backstory | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

everlasting-stories · 3 years ago

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To Feel Again [M]

Genre: light angst, romance

Warnings[!]: smut, penetration, creampie, unprotected sex, mentions of adult toys

Pairing: Doyoung x Reader

Words: 4.4k / One-shot

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Valentine's Day: the day of roses and hearts and chocolates and romantic candlelit dinners. When people proposed marriage and professed undying love.

You sighed, staring unseeing into your bowl of cornflakes as they succumbed to their milky grave and turned to soggy goop. Funny how a date on a calendar could open the pit of despair that lived somewhere near your stomach. It had to be near your stomach. You've been reasonably hungry until you've noticed the date and the pit opened. Your hunger had fallen into it, and the memories and pain rose out of it.

There was a time when this day had been wonderful. Life had been wonderful, you didn't need Valentine's Day, but you celebrated it with reverence and, sometimes, wild abandon.

You knew what love was, what it felt like to love a man and how it felt to lose him. You remembered what he'd said that last morning, how he'd kissed you; how the sun had lit his face as he smiled, promising he'd be back. You also remembered the police, how the sun seemed to dim as they told you the phrases out of courtesy. They were sorry for your loss. They will let you know of details as soon as the investigation on the accident comes to an end.

Since that time, Valentine's Day had passed unheralded, unheeded and uncelebrated. You knew you were a joke of the office - entering thirties soon and never been fucked, that's what they said. The borning woman who had no idea what fun was, wouldn't have known what to do with a man if by some miracle you did catch the attention of one. They were wrong, of course. Not that it was any of their business; it certainly didn't affect your ability to do your job.

If you chose to act and dress your age and spend your evenings quietly, rather than as mutton dressed as lamb in some gaudy nightclub, surely that was your right?

You sighed again, getting up from the table, taking your cereal bowl and dumping the gloop down the sink. A bleak day of petty jibes and pitying looks lay ahead. At least you knew what to expect this year.

Last year had been your first Valentine's Day with this particular company and, therefore, your first with this particular bunch of malicious people - your fellow employees. As front counter receptionist, you were the company's first "public face" and some of your co-workers had decided it didn't look good if that face wasn't surrounded by gifts from admirers on this day.

When the first bunch of anonymous flowers had arrived, you've been flustered, flattered and flabbergasted that anyone would send you flowers. You had hurriedly cleared a space on the counter for them, proudly displaying them, fussing with them to show them off at their best and make them visible from the greatest distance. You kept touching them, moving them slightly, reaffirming they were really there. Your heart sang; someone had noticed you. Maybe he was too shy to reveal himself; maybe he was married and couldn't: your mind was alive with questions, trying to solve the mystery of their origin. You were all in all happy.

Then a large box of chocolates arrived, closely followed by more flowers. By lunchtime, these had been joined by a little plush cherub, two red plush love hearts, a pair of earrings, three more bunches of flowers, four assorted boxes of chocolates and a large jar of candy hearts. They all carried the same anonymous message. And you knew then and there what is the catch behind this.

By the end of the day there were nine flower arrangements, ten boxes of chocolates, three cherubs, the two red love hearts, three teddy bears, two jars of candy, the earrings and a gift box containing four pairs of edible undies. Just before the close of business the final humiliation came - a fantastically wrapped see through box containing an inflatable male doll with vibrating tongue, a massive purple vibrating dildo and a copy of the Sex for The Beginners book.

You had to stay at your post until the last visitor or client left. But the rest of the staff was already heading out of the building. Some boggled at your desk, some snickered, a couple made loud crass comments and a very few had appeared horrified at the pile of stuff surrounding yourself. The building had almost emptied before that last visitor departed. You were sure that, too, was a set-up, particularly when you saw it was the client that had been visiting quite frequently lately.

Myungsoo ushered the man to the street and turned back to you as you gathered your coat and handbag, ready to escape.

"Gee, you're a popular girl. Who would have thought?" He reached your counter and began collecting up the flowers, grinning madly. "Let me help you with all that."

Before you could say a word, he bundled all the flowers, chocolates and assorted other items into your arms. You could barely see where you were going. Myungsoo put his arm around your back and shepherded you out the door, peeking at the vibrator in its transparent box. "There you go, sweetheart. Looks like you're definitely gonna get some action tonight." He turned smartly away, laughing as he rapidly put distance between the two of you.

You obviously had thrown the whole lot in the nearest dumpster and hurried to the relative sanctuary of your car before breaking down and sobbing, burying your head in your hands to hide from prying eyes of curious passer-bys.

Standing at your kitchen sink, you wondered what they'd pull this year. It couldn't be worse, could it? You sighed again and then abruptly shook your head, standing straighter. To hell with it - you were not going to let them get to you today.

It had already begun when you arrived. A bouquet of irises sat at the front of the counter. You were tempted to throw them straight in the garbage, but decided they were too pretty, too unusual. So they stayed. Curiosity got the better of you as you looked at the card, expecting it to say something sappy and insincere, as last year's cards had.

"You are worth far more than they will ever realise. Hear the flowers."

You pondered the card. Hear the flowers?

What on earth did that mean? You raised an eyebrow as you settled into your post: at least it seemed this year would be more intriguing than last. During quiet moments throughout the morning, you'd pick up the card, reread the cryptic message and study the beautiful bouquet, but its secret was never revealed.

No gifts arrived for you, no more flowers. You were relieved, but it only served to deepen the mystery of the flowers. As your lunch hour approached, other staff began filtering out of their offices to take a break. They all noticed the irises. Several of the women stopped and commented on their beauty. No one laughed.

As always, you left the building for lunch. You would usually grab a sandwich somewhere and do a bit of window shopping. Anything to get away for an hour - if you stayed in the office, someone always "needed" you for something.

When you returned, a neatly typed page was on your desk: "The meaning of flowers". One line was highlighted in blue: "Iris: Have Faith. Don't Give Up On Hope." A single purple violet was pinned to the page. You scanned the page to find "Violet (Purple): You occupy my thoughts". You put the page to one side, but still in view, unsure whether to laugh at it and throw it along with the flowers away before the punch line or wait it out. This was definitely a far more sophisticated assault than last year.

Throughout the afternoon a steady procession of couriers arrived, carrying flowers and gifts. You nervously watched each one approach your counter, only to breathe a sigh of relief as the teddy bears and hearts, the chocolates and flowers were all destined for other souls.

At 4:30PM a man approached your station: nothing unusual in that; everyone that came to see someone had to check in with you. What was unusual was that he actually saw you as a fellow human, not a robot programmed to take names and give directions. He smiled at you, a real smile that reached his eyes and warmed your heart. Something familiar in his eyes...

"Good afternoon. My name is Kim Doyoung. I have an appointment to speak to Choi Myungsoo. Would you mind letting him know I am here, please?"

Quickly, you dialled Myungsoo's extension, giving him the information. Myungsoo, as usual was brusque to the point of rude, telling you to "entertain the idiot 'till I'm ready for him - he's not supposed to be here for another 15 minutes".

You were tempted to tell the polite gentleman exactly what Myungsoo had said, but instead used your tact and diplomacy (that was why you were hired after all) to tell him that "Mr. Choi is a little delayed. He will be available in a few minutes."

With that being said, you offered him a seat.

Again he smiled. "Those are beautiful flowers," he said, nodding towards the iris bouquet. "A discerning choice for a lovely lady."

You lowered your eyes, feeling the heat rise in your face, knowing you were blushing.

His voice softened and became much quieter. "You don't remember me, do you?" Your eyes flew to his face, confused. Were you supposed to know this charming man?

"I had an appointment here at the same time, on this day last year. I was waiting outside for a taxi when you left. That was uncalled for, the whole situation that happened - mean and heartless and exactly what I would expect of Myungsoo and his friends. I deal with them only because I must. They offer a service unparalleled in this town."

He leaned across the counter, his voice so low only you could hear. "How they manage it, I cannot tell. They are pig swill and don't know a pearl when confronted with one." Doyoung paused, seeming to weigh up his next statement, then leaned closer to you. "Did you hear the flowers?"

Your eyes again flew to his face, your mouth falling open a little. "You sent them?"

"I did. And the violet. I had hoped to counter whatever crass display they had planned this year. Would you possibly consider spending the evening with me?" His face was eager, hopeful. "A nice dinner?"

You were stunned, flattered, amazed - but also wary. This was Myungsoo's client. He could easily have been put up to this. You studied his face closely, seeking any hint of a lurking cad. His face fell. "But, of course, you have other plans. I apologise for embarrassing you." He moved away and sat, abashed, on one of the hideous lounge chairs to await his appointment.

You studied this man. He didn't seem to fit the mould of Myungsoo's usual cohorts. For one thing he was unerringly polite. He was also good looking, very, very good looking, without being outstanding or flashy. He was also much closer to your age than Myungsoo's and had an air of quiet confidence, like he had nothing to prove to anyone and nothing to fear from them either. You looked at the flowers. Could Myungsoo have possibly thought of something this elegant? You didn't think so. You took a deep breath: to hell with it.

"Mr. Kim?" He looked up. "What time would you like to pick me up?"

In your bedroom, staring at the clothes hanging limply in your closet, the cool bravado that had claimed you as you agreed to the date vanished. In its place indecision, doubt and outright terror took hold. It seemed painfully obvious to you now, away from the office and that lovely man, that it was all another twisted joke, something for the office beautiful people to laugh at during tomorrow's coffee breaks. Why did you say yes? Your wardrobe was woefully inadequate. It was years since you'd been out with a man; you were bound to make a fool of yourself, even if it wasn't a set-up.

At that thought your heart jumped and lurched. The possibility that Mr. Kim - no, Doyoung; this was a date not a business appointment - was sincere in his wish to take you out only heightened your confusion and indecision.

Finally, in desperation and the realisation that if you didn't decide soon, you'd still be in your underwear when he arrived; you chose a chanel-knee length cremé skirt and baby pink cashmere sweater, topped off with knee length boots. The heels were quite high, but you remembered him being tall, so that wouldn't be an issue, as long as you didn't fall over in them.

You were saved from an overcritical examination in the mirror. You had just completed applying your makeup when Doyoung arrived. You grabbed your coat and quickly walked out the door, before you had time to rethink and back out.

"You look lovely," Doyoung said, smiling down at you. Feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks; you weren't used to receiving compliments, particularly from someone like him. You mumbled a shy thanks as he helped you put on your coat and led you to his car.

Sitting in the car as he drove, you were able to study the mysterious man that is Kim Doyoung. He was extremely handsome, not in the classical sense, but he certainly was far from a plain looking man - a man at peace with himself. He knew who he was and was content with that; he knew what he wanted and how to get it; and what was beyond his capabilities and lost no sleep over it. He obviously managed quite well; his car was expensive but not too flashy.

The restaurant he took you too was a quiet small place, away from the standard eat-and-entertain strip. It was intimate without claustrophobia; the decor was elegant without being overbearing; the lighting low but not dim; the service attentive without being intrusive. The food you could not describe - later, you barely remembered what you had eaten beyond it being "nice" - your attention was totally taken by Doyoung.

He was gallant and charming; helping you with your coat and holding your chair for you at the intimate table for two tucked away in a corner. Doyoung quietly suggested items on the menu he thought you might like. It was obvious he'd been here before, was a regular, but usually without company. His choice of wine was perfect to go with the excellent food as you enjoyed each other's company.

And you talked.

You learned a lot about him. Doyoung was 34, older than you had thought; he had been engaged, but his fiancé decided to break off the engagement for simply falling out of love. He had had a series of short term relationships that had petered out and, for the past several years, had lived a solitary life, rarely going out with women. He didn't work as such; his livelihood came from investments, which explained him being a client of the company you worked in. Myungsoo may be a jerk, but he was the one of the best investment brokers around.

He had been attracted to you the first time he met you, a year ago, but had been intimidated by the evidence of all your admirers. When he realised it was all a cruel joke played by his adviser and the other brokers, he was mortified. He had seriously considered changing brokers, going to another organisation but that would have meant he had no chance of meeting you again. So he stayed. He had been in your office on three occasions since then, and each time had seen your quiet, unflappable charm and how your talent and lovely nature were either ignored or taken for granted by those around you. He was determined to gain your attention, but without the office cricus freaks being able to use it against you, hence the mystery flower delivery this morning.

You found yourself opening up to Doyoung. He seemed sincerely interested in hearing what you had to say, hanging on your every word. It was a liberating and wonderfully powerful feeling. You weren't used to being the centre of anyone's attention. You told him of your pride at the independence since the loss of your lover, all those years ago. You were happy in your little home, content with your work, rarely coming to the attention of the office jokers.

It was over coffee that you admitted to Doyoung something you haven't admitted to yourself: your life was lonely and you missed the affection of another person. You missed the companionship of sharing your life with someone.

Immediately after the words had left your lips you regretted them. You have given away too much of yourself, been too forward. You lowered your eyes, not wanting to see the closed expression you knew would be on his face, so you didn't see the fleeting look of pain, quickly followed by understanding and hope.

However, you did feel his hand close over yours and squeeze lightly. You looked up into a face of gentle eyes and soft smile. "Would you like to take a walk with me," he said quietly. "I think it's time we leave - they want to close the restaurant anyway."

You looked around yourself noticing that you two were the only people other than staff left in the restaurant, and many of the lights were dimmed. You gasped in wonder - you had no idea you've been there so long. "Yes, a walk would be lovely."

Doyoung ushered you along the street and across a small, neat park to a promenade along the riverbank. It was enough lit to feel safe and you walked along arm in arm. You felt his arm snake around your waist hugging you closer to him, and you snuggled against him, your arm around his back. The moon was up, the stars were out and the night was peaceful and clear.

Your heart was singing and your eyes sparkled. You've been right to take this gamble. He was sincere, and it was wonderful. But the night was late, and it was rather cold.

You shivered. Doyoung felt it immediately and turned off the promenade proposing to head back toward the street where he had left the car. "I'd better take you home. It wouldn't be much of a date if you ended up ill."

At your door, Doyoung formally thanked you for a lovely evening and asked if he could see you again. You smiled and surprised yourself only a little by reaching up and kissing him lightly on the lips before saying: "Would you like to come in for a nightcap?"

Doyoung blinked, looking mildly bemused for a moment before studying your face. "Are you sure?"

Oh, most definitely, you were sure. You have thought of nothing else since you two have left the river. He looked right, he felt right, and he smelt right. You wanted him but was sure he'd never make a move. He was too much of a gentleman to ever force the issue.

You took his hand and led him into your home, kicking the door closed with your foot, shutting out the rest of the world with its mean people and ugly attitudes. You reached up to kiss him again. This time he lowered his head to yours, cradling your face in his hands as he returned the kiss. The lips met and parted, allowing the tongues to join and caress each other. His hands moved down from your face to caress your body, yours moving up from his hips. Both of you parted, searching each other's faces for confirmation of your desires.

"I think we're on the same page," you said. "Why don't you leave your coat on the couch? Do you want the nightcap now, or after the tour?"

"I'll put a hold on the nightcap," Doyoung answered, reading the desire in your eyes and knowing it was mirrored in his while stripping off the coat.

"Right."

You took his hand again. "This is the lounge. There," you pointed to the right, "is the kitchen and dining room. This way," pulling him down the hall, "is the second bedroom, the bathroom and," dragging him through a doorway, "here is the main bedroom."

"Very nice," he said, looking around, trying not to focus on the bed.

Suddenly shy, you both looked at anything but each other, awkward in a lack of intimate knowledge of each other. Doyoung tentatively reached out a hand to you, aiming to caress your breast, veering off at the last moment to your shoulder, but still lightly brushing your breast with his fingertips. Your gasped breath emboldened him and he reached his other hand, caressing your other breast lightly as you shivered under his touch and sighed.

Your own hands went to his chest, running down the front of his shirt and back up, then beginning to undo the buttons, pulling the shirt from his trousers and teasing his bare skin with your fingers.

Doyoung pulled his shirt off and then raised the sweater over your head and off the arms, moving in to kiss you as his hands went around your back to undo the clasps of a bra and returned to cup your breasts. The sensation on your breasts as he caressed and pinched the nipples sent a sharp message straight between your legs. You could feel yourself becoming moist and shuddered under his touch; breath becoming uneven.

Pushing him away you removed the skirt, letting it pool at your feet while looking into his eyes. Doyoung took the hint and began unbuckling his belt, then grinned foolishly and sat beside you to take off his socks, sneaking kisses of your neck and shoulders as he did so. You both stood again, slightly apart. He dropped his trousers and you could see his briefs pushed out of shape by his erection, the fabric straining.

Doyoung stepped up, taking you in his arms, kissing down your neck and across the collarbone, his hands lowering to your hips, sliding under the elastic and beginning to tug your panties down. Your own hands flew to the top of his briefs. Together, you pulled down the underwear, stepping out of them and standing naked before each other. Again Doyoung moved first, holding you and gently pushing backwards onto the bed, following after you onto it.

He ran one hand down the body of yours, teasing and tickling the beginning of your womanhood and beyond, teasing you with his fingers, tickling across your mound and easing around your damp centre. You moaned as he explored, your hips twisting and twitching. It had been so long since another man had touched you there. It felt amazing, wonderful, but achingly short of what you needed. You could feel his hardness against your thigh. Reaching down, you took his cock into your hand. It was hot, hard and pulsed under your touch. Doyoung groaned and his hips jerked convulsively. You kissed him hard and whispered fiercely, "Please, it's been too long. I need you, now."

"For me too, far too long," Doyoung gasped back, rolling you onto your back and positioning himself before gently splitting your lips and sliding steadily but firmly into you. Your moans were prominent in the air as he stretched and filled you right, not stopping his steady thrust until he was wholly inside you, your warm walls gripping him tightly. Your eyes met and locked as you lay still, immersed in the feeling of each other's body.

Being warm, wet and a safe haven, you were engulfing his cock. Doyoung was filling you with his hard heat, owning your body completely. You fit each other perfectly; you could see it in each other's eyes. You belonged together.

As great as this feeling was, you needed more. Doyoung slowly withdrew, till only the very tip split you. Both groaning as he pushed back in, again slowly feeling each other with delectable inch. Slowly in and out, in and out, revelling in the feeling of each other's bodies, gradually building up speed as your need increased.

You could feel the fire building, the tension increasing as sensation on sensation smashed into you with each thrust, your body twitching, your hips writhing. Still it built; higher, tighter, fiercer. Your entire being was wrapped around Doyoung's cock as it pumped in and out of you. You could hear him grunting with each thrust, feel his body trembling as he got closer to his climax. His speed increased and you breath got caught in your throat, your back arched, legs went stiff as you began to twitch when the white light exploded through you, spreading warmth and scattering your senses.

You felt, from far away but deep within you, Doyoung losing his rhythm before coming, pumping wildly into you, grunting and thrusting hard one last time as he shot deep inside you feeling spent but overly fulfilled.

Your hand was making lazy circles on Doyoung's chest as you lay, curled against his side with a head on his shoulder. You weren't sure how you've come to be in this position, but it felt so right and he smelled so good.

You were at peace while drifting off to sleep.

Waking up without feeling body by your side, you immediately felt the loss. Doyoung wasn't there. Your heart dropped, the pit near your stomach threatened to open and engulf it. Sensing the tears coming up, you accidentally feel something on your side with a hand.

He wasn't there. But there was a note.

"I am so sorry. I hate to leave you, knowing you will wake alone. There is something I must do."

You had just finished reading when the phone rang, disturbing your thoughts. Grudgingly, you moved to answer it. "Hello."

"Wish I was still beside you."

Your heart flipped again. The pit dissolved so you could breathe again before whispering, "Doyoung."

"Y/N. Tell me, what are you planning for breakfast?"

"Uhm. Coffee? Maybe some toast. Why?"

"Don't move. I'm on my way. With breakfast. And it's better than toast."

You lay back in bed, listening to the dial tone after he hung up. Surprised, you smile softly. You must remember to thank Myungsoo for introducing them.

If this is how you will feel loved and feel free to love again, you have no complaints.

Your new chapter is about to begin and hopefully, it will last for a very long time with a man named Kim Doyoung.

#one shot #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct fanfiction #doyoung #kim doyoung #doyoung x reader #doyoung scenarios #doyoung fanfic #doyoung smut #romance #nct romance #nct angst #nct 127 #nct u #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fanfic

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mrsgiovanna · 4 years ago

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The Beguiling (Hades! Don Giorno x Persephone! Fem! Reader)

This concept has been on my mind for the longest time. This is loosely based off the lore of Hades and Persephone, set in a modern mafia AU, with Giorno as Hades and the reader as Persephone. 🥺💖🐞

TW: Kidnapping, yandere themes, manipulative behaviour, disordered relationship dynamics

Word count : 6.3k

“The truth of the matter I believe to be this. There is, as I stated at first, no absolute right or wrong in love, but everything depends upon the circumstances, to yield to a bad man in a bad way is wrong, but to yield to a worthy man in a right way is right.”

- Plato, Symposium

Being the Don of a mafia is a difficult task, being so far removed from everyone and everything else. Some would even say, its like being part of an entirely different realm…

Extremely beautiful but entirely unapproachable, Giorno didn’t appear in public very often, the burden of running the organization had brought many threats to his safety. Granted, he was able to thwart any plan to even remotely harm him, but one doesn’t have time for such annoyances when you wield as much power as he did. Taking over something so big at such a young age changes a person, and Giorno was no different, he was always seen as aloof and calculating, but there were other dimensions to his character that he was painfully aware of, but would not reveal to anyone else… yet.

“Don Giovanna, are you ready to go? The driver is ready for us,” his consigliere spoke in an even, respectful tone while addressing his don.

“Yes, we can leave, have you informed Fugo of the change in our plans?” Giorno’s voice was monotonous, soft and polite, but conveyed no emotion. The task at hand today was not a pleasant one… he hated having to deal with defectors and had avoided it up until this point. This case was different… the defector in question was your brother. You had always held a special place in his heart ever since he encountered you upon taking over Passione. You were always kind towards him, and all your conversations had brought about a sense of peace within himself. Nonetheless, he dismissed it as a simple juvenile crush, and continued with his mammoth task of remolding the diseased organization, excising the ‘tumors’ to allow for a healthier, better, stronger Passione to emerge. Sacrificing his youth, his personal life and precious friends in order to attain his dream, he was not going to let anyone destroy everything he had worked so hard to create.

As the years went on, there were many times that your path had unwittingly crossed with the young don’s which only intensified his feelings for you, but given the nature of his lifestyle, he tried to convince himself that loving you from afar would be good enough, but Giorno’s resolve- unshakeable in every other scenario- was quickly waning in this regard.

Meeting with your father was painful, his demeanor reminding Giorno of a shadowed figure from his past who had changed his life forever.

“He’ll have to be dealt with, you understand this, correct?”

“I’m aware of this, Don Giovanna. I… I’m willing to take any punishment you see fit… please keep my daughter out of this… I can stake my life on her innocence in all of this,” your father spoke emphatically, desperate to protect you, appealing to the don’s humanity. Giorno furrowed his eyebrows, surely your father knew he wouldn’t harm you in any way- was it normal for people to be this terrified of him? The sharp slam of a door and a greeting from a honeyed voice snapped Giorno from his thoughts.

“I’m home, I hope you’re hungry, I’m making octopus salad, squid ink risotto and I’ve got chocolate fondants for dessert… oh goodness! Don Giovanna- I’m sorry… I, um…” you stuttered embarrassingly as your gaze landed on the blonde’s handsome face and shifted to the ground immediately. Before Giorno could answer you to try and quell your discomfort, your father interjected, sending you away from the room. The young don was completely awestruck by your ethereal beauty, as if you had been crafted by the gods themselves, descended to create joy in an otherwise dull world. He made a silent promise to himself- he had to have you as his own.

“(Y/n), please give us a moment piccolina, I’ll come to you as soon as we have concluded our meeting,”

“Of course, please pardon my interruption,” with a small nod of your head, you took your leave, wanting to start making the dishes you had just rattled off. As you busied yourself with your preparations, your mind kept returning to Giorno, he was always calm and pleasant, but you hadn’t seen him with that kind of expression before. The fact that you hadn’t seen your brother in days didn’t bode well with today’s events… you hoped he was okay, but you experienced first-hand how aggressive he could be, something, you were told, he had shared with your mother. You didn’t have much of a relationship with her as her job had taken her away from the family a bit too much. You understood now that you were a young adult, but your emotions still vacillated between acceptance and resentment when you observed the families of your friends.

“You know… because of the difference in our ages, you’ve always told me that you cared for me as a father would care for a son, as a result, our relationship has always been cordial… its allowed us to speak frankly as we have always done in the past,”

“Yes, Don Giovanna… this is true.”

“Please, I’ve told you many times before, call me Giorno…”

“Alright… Giorno,”

“Good, good, see? That sounds better already. As I was saying before, if your affections for me run that deep… accept me as a son-in-law and allow me to marry (y/n) and you will never have to worry about her safety again. Nobody would ever think to harm her if they have to contend with me first,”

“What? Are you asking for permission to marry my daughter? I don’t think she has even considered something like that… you’ve barely spoken to each other…” your father was battling to make sense of Giorno’s request, if one could even call it a request.

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in… your son has singlehandedly created a colossal mess; we’d be in the middle of a turf war if it wasn’t for the quick thinking of my consigliere. That’s not to say other people wouldn’t want to exact their own personal brand of justice. I can guarantee you though, if she’s under my care, none of those things will ever reach her.” Just as the consigliere was about to speak, perhaps, an attempt to rationalize with the don, a sharp sideward glance from the latter had left all suggestions unspoken. The silence in the room was palpable… uncomfortable, until it was broken by Giorno.

“I’ve loved (y/n) for as long as I’ve known her, the best place for her would be with me, my strength is unparalleled… this is probably a lot to take in right now, I’ll allow you some time to come around to the idea, I’d hate to have to take her by force, but, if that’s what it will take…”

“Are you threatening me Don Giovanna?” asked your father with a restrained bite to his voice.

“Of course not, I’m merely making my intentions clear, my reach spans well beyond anything you could ever imagine… well, I’ve said all I need to in this instance. I’ll be back for her in three days, I trust you’ll be able comply with my suggestion. I’ll be taking my leave now.” With a flourish of his cerulean blue coat, Giorno and his consigliere left your home. Your father cursed his position, but there was little he could do about it. Finding you blissfully tinkering in the kitchen, his heart broke, knowing already that this was one of the last times he would be seeing you like this… or at all.

“You don’t agree with what I’m doing, do you, Lorenzo? You know I’m good at reading people, although you’re not even trying to mask your disdain,” asked Giorno, breaking the silence on the drive home.

“Well, if I’m allowed to speak freely, I don’t think you’re going about this in the right manner. She’s going to be terrified and resentful because you’re effectively abducting her, so in brief, I don’t agree with this at all,”

“Fair enough, and for the record, obviously I’m aware that she’s going to hate me… at first anyway, but she’ll come to understand eventually. Anyway, what’s done is done, in three days, I’ll be bringing home my goddess.” Giorno turned his attention to his phone and with that Lorenzo had backed off, knowing from years of serving Giorno that there was no talking to him when he resolved to do something.

“Father, you’re so quiet… did something happen?” you asked, part of you not wanting to know the answer to that question.

“It’s a mess, but don’t worry about that, I’ll handle it. There is something that I have to speak to you about though… it’s about Don Giovanna, he would like to see you in a few days, nothing serious, just be sure to keep your schedule open for the day,” your father explained, only divulging half the truth of your situation.

“He wants to see me? Do you know why? Have I done something wrong?” you were curious as to what Giorno could possible want with you.

“Of course not dolcezza, he just wants to have a chat with you, I think he’s just making sure that you’re alright… that’s part of why he was here today.

“Oh, alright, I’ll be available. Anyway, dinner’s ready, once you get washed up, we can eat,” you glanced up at your father to see his face contorted in grief. “What’s the matter? I know you don’t like talking about things that have to do with your occupation, but you’ve been like this ever since Don Giovanna left,”

Being too much for him to bear, he pulled you into a vicelike embrace, almost as if you would disappear if he let you go, which was not entirely false. “Aww, it’s okay dad, everything will be fine, come on, the food’s getting cold, you need to eat,” with that, you both ate in a comfortable silence as you always did, before you both retired for the evening.

While you tried to prepare yourself for your “meeting”, your soon to be captor was busy creating your sanctuary, or rather, overseeing the creation of your sanctuary- there was no reason why your surroundings couldn’t be as beautiful as you were, his aim after all was to get you to fall in love with him. Large, glittering mirrors with gilded frames adorned the walls of the hallways that lead to your room. Inside, was everything one could ever hope to have; an extensive closet filled with things that were made especially for you, various trinkets and baubles carefully selected for you, state of the art electronic devices, albeit with restrictions on the amount of things you could access… just for the time being though. If you were to start off as a bird in a cage, it should be a bejeweled cage worthy of a rarity like you.

As it got closer to the time you’d be seeing Giorno, your nerves started increasing exponentially, you knew that under normal circumstances, having to meet with someone like him without knowing what the subject matter would be was intimidating, but this feeling was something else altogether. As if something in your gut was telling you to cancel- to run- but you dismissed those feelings, and prepared yourself for the engagement.

“Buonasera cara, you look especially charming this evening…” he greeted you with a velvety voice that masked the true nature of him being there.

“Buonasera Don Giovanna, thank you for the compliment,”

“Shall we leave, (y/n)?”

“Um, okay… I just need to fetch my things and let my father know that I’m leaving…”

“Alright, perfect, actually, would you mind if I followed you? I’d like a quick word with him before we leave,” his expression was so charismatic, you felt guilty for not inviting him inside immediately.

“Of course, I’m sorry, please do come in.” you say as you stepped aside to make room for Giorno to enter. You lead him to the study and went to fetch your coat and purse to go, giving yourself a onceover in the mirror to make sure you were presentable and with that you kissed your father on the cheek and left.

The restaurant that you and Giorno went to was completely empty except for a single table set up for you both and the staff that were going to serve you, you found it odd, but dismissed it as one of the nuances of leading a mafia, privacy was of utmost importance. Ever the gentleman, the young don pulled out your chair for you and seated himself across from you.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me (y/n), I appreciate you taking the time to do so,”

“Of course, although I have to admit, I’m a little confused as to why I’m here,” you say with a nervous titter. The waiter brought a bottle of wine to the table, probably preapproved by Giorno already, and with a small nod, it is poured out into the awaiting glasses for the two of you.

“You will understand soon enough cara, come, lets toast to something… ah! To new beginnings…” he suggested with a sardonic smile.

“New beginnings? Okay… to new beginnings, salute!” with a confused smile and a delicate clink of your glasses you both took a sip of your wine. As the night went on, you were having a wonderful time, however, it seemed like your alcohol was getting to you faster than usual.

“Are you alright, cara, you look a bit out of sorts, come, I’ll take you home,”

“Thanks Don, I… I’m sorry I don’t know-” before completing the rest of your sentence, your consciousness faded and you fell into a strong pair of arms. Giorno sat you back down and made a quick call to his driver before picking you up again and placing you in the awaiting car to take you to your new home. As he gazed lovingly upon your face, he knew that the road is going to be a tedious one, but you would love him one day.

Your head pounded incessantly as you tried to open your eyes. The sensations on your skin were unfamiliar- soft, silken, so inviting, lulling you back into the deep slumber you were trying to break. Was this a dream? Your eyes finally opened to an unfamiliar room, you gathered the courage to sit up in bed, still unsure if you were in a dream or not and tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Looking around the room, feeling a sense of panic enveloping your very existence, you ran towards the large, ornately carved door to try and leave the room, but it was locked. The windows, it seemed, were crafted from reinforced glass as they would not break regardless of what was thrown at them. Left with only one option, you began to cry out for help, surely someone would be there, it was too well kept to be an abandoned building.

Listening to the commotion from outside the room were the guards and servants tasked with making sure your requests were fulfilled, but more importantly, they needed to ensure you were safe and didn’t escape. Giorno had a way with people, a charisma that both scared and enchanted those around him. Disobedience was not even a fleeting option for those who served him, partly out of fear, but mostly out of devotion to the young don. Giving each other a knowing glance, your guard decided to call his boss to come and subdue you before you had hurt yourself.

Your throat felt raw from the shouting and hyperventilating, your skin shimmered, veiled in a thin layer of sweat and your eyes shifted this way and that, trying to spot something you could exploit to leave the room while your captor was away. It dawned on you that as terrifying as it was to be in that place, it would be even worse if you had to face whoever was holding you there, choosing rather to contend with the fear of the unknown, than putting a face to your jailor. As if even thinking of something willed it into existence, your worst nightmare materialized as you heard the door being unlocked.

“Tesoro… please stop, you’re hurting yourself,” your eyes widened when you heard the velvety voice addressing you with such tenderness.

“Don… Giovanna? Where am I? What are you doing here? Please, I need to go home, I don’t know who brought me here…” you could barely articulate yourself with your shaky voice.

“I know that you’re extremely scared and confused… there’s so much I need to explain to you… but please, first, let me look at your hands, you are hurt, I can take care of that,” it was only after he spoke that you saw the bruises blooming on the delicate skin of your hands and arms. You still stayed rooted to where you were, but Giorno inched closer, materializing GE to heal your injuries. His heart stung when you silently grimaced at the pain of his ability rejoining the blood vessels that had broken, but he hated seeing your beautiful skin being marred like that.

“Don…”

“Please, call me Giorno…”

“Okay… Giorno… can we go now? I need to go home, if we stay any longer the people who put me here might come back or send others, I…”

“Tesoro… this is your home now… the person who brought you here was me… what is the last thing you remember from yesterday?” The young don circled around you and sat you down next to him at the foot of the bed.

“Why? Why did you bring me here? Are you insane? I can’t stay here, I… don’t understand what the hell is going on! I need to call my father,” seeing you start to get agitated again, Giorno pulled out his phone and motioned for you to take it.

“Here, call him, he has already agreed to this arrangement. You’re not safe my love, I’m sure you know about the recent transgressions courtesy of your cretin of a brother. People are angry and want revenge, and unfortunately you’re in the direct line of fire. So it was decided that you would come and live with me, you’ll find all your belongings here already, mixed with things that I believe you would like. I will give you anything your heart desires, lavish you with all the love and attention I can. All you need to do is stay here… near me… nobody can challenge me…”

You heard the words, but nothing was making sense to you. You decided to take up your captor’s offer to speak to your father, who confirmed his entire story. Feeling dejected, empty and completely alone, you sank to the floor as violent sobs wracked your body. Seeing you in this state filled Giorno with dread as he lifted you off the lushly carpeted floor, but he knew he would be able to get you to love him eventually. This was this the initial shock; he was willing to wait for you to acclimate to your surroundings.

Thus began your life of isolation… your routine, if you could even call it that, consisted of waking up in your palatial room, begrudgingly having breakfast with your green-eyed abductor and sulking around for the rest of the day. Giorno put a lot of effort into making sure that you were comfortable and tried to interact with you as much as his schedule would allow him to. Initially, all of his attempts to speak to you were ignored, you wondered if the awkward silence even bothered him at all, but he always had a peaceful expression on his face. If nothing else, he was very patient with you, and at times you tested his patience on purpose, goading him to anger, in those times though, he simply left you alone in your room, not allowing you to leave for a few days, instructing your handlers to confiscate your electronics, not even offering you a sliver of human contact… you needed to think about why you were in that position after all, so there could be no distractions whatsoever. Those isolation periods would thankfully not last long enough to tip you over the edge though, and like a ray of sunshine after a storm, he’d come to unlock your doors and add color back into your world. You always were more affectionate towards him after a few days on your own, which, you reasoned, was due to the lack of any interaction at all as opposed to having any genuine feelings towards him. Giorno wasn’t picky though, he accepted your gentle touches and embraces all the same, one day… soon… you would undertake those gestures solely on your desire to do so.

Surely enough, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you had warmed up to him, settling into an oddly satisfying domestic life with the don. The more of yourself you gave to him, the wider your world had gotten, until you eventually had free reign over the entire estate. You soon had come to realize that if you had just played your part, and listened to him, complied with his simple requests, his kindness towards you was limitless. Giorno had remained as attentive as ever, picking up on every little change on you from the subtle change in the color of your blush to the miniscule changes in the length of your hair after its trimmed, nothing escaped his well trained eye. He beamed when you started to wear the clothes and jewels he bought for you, seeing it as a sign that you were slowly starting to accept him. The truth of the situation was that you had, against your better judgement, fallen in love with this living deity.

“Giorno… the weather’s warming up quite beautifully, why don’t we train outdoors from now on instead of working out inside?” you suggested while you kneeled on the bed behind a seated Giorno as you undid his elaborate hairstyle and brushed out the product from his hair before he took a shower.

“Hmmm… alright bella, I suppose we could do that, I’m sure the fresh air would do us both some good,” as he got up, he bent down to place a chaste kiss on your forehead before heading into the shower. For a fleeting moment, you thought about your old life, you had earned back the liberty to speak to your family, well, your father, and some friends, but the fractured relationships weren’t the same. Pushing those negative feelings to the back of your mind, you waited for Giorno so that you could both go to sleep, but your heavy eyelids fell shut. His patience with you was never more evident than in these moments, never once overstepping your boundaries or initiating intimacy that would make you feel uncomfortable. Emerging to see your sleeping form, he pulled up the covers around you and climbed into the other side of the bed, facing you, he clutched your hands in his, allowing himself to close his eyes as well.

“We’ve managed to locate her… you aren’t going to like this though,”

“Just tell me where my daughter is, I’ll decide the rest,” your mother spoke bluntly to her partner.

“She’s living with some mafia boss; I think he’s her boyfriend or something. You never see her out on her own, she’s always with him. I’ve got people watching your husband’s house, she’s only been there once, with the cocky bastard in tow. The security at his place is insane, worst of all, we think he’s a stand user,”

“Stand user? Don’t make me laugh, that means nothing, we’re stand users too, every ability has a weakness that can be exploited,” your mother lit a cigarette and took a long drag, musing on what her first move should be. After a moment of contemplation, she had her sights set on her old marital home, deciding that your father would be able to provide the most complete description of what is going on. She portrayed a nonchalant exterior, but your mother was very worried for your safety. She had a powerful stand of her own, in fact all the members of your family were powerful stand users- except you. Your mother worked closely with a foreign organization dedicated to studying supernatural phenomena as such, most of her time was divided between her travels on behalf of the organization and work that she would need to do onsite at their headquarters in Washington. Over her lifetime, she’s found herself in many precarious positions, so she decided it would be safer if she stayed away from the family in an attempt to keep everyone safe… upon hindsight, that was a fatal miscalculation. To describe her mood after speaking to your father as livid, would be an understatement.

Not wasting a moment, your mother called her associate and made her way to the don’s villa, hell-bent on taking you back from his dark clutches.

“Bella, are you ready to go?” Giorno called to you as he pulled on his coat while you put on your last accessory. You never turned down an opportunity to go out, even though your outings became slightly more frequent, you were completely captivated by discovering the different facets to Giorno’s personality. As much as he was fervently observing you and curating an ideal world tailored to you, you were learning a lot about him and the circumstances that fashioned him in this manner.

“Yes tesoro, sorry for keeping you waiting… what is it?” you were met by a wide-eyed Giorno, and it hit you… Tesoro… the name trickled so effortlessly off your lips, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t really thinking…”

“Don’t apologize amore, as long as it’s you, I don’t mind…” he softly replied, as he stroked your cheek with the back of his forefinger. You heard a faint clatter accompanied by the ring of Giorno’s phone, informing him that there had been a security breach. The soft expression on his face was gone, as he gripped you with a protective arm.

Before you had time to ask him what was going on, you heard your name being called out by a voice you barely remembered, one you didn’t think you’d hear again.

“Mother?” your voice was a whisper. Your mother looked at you, disdain skewing her features before turning her attention to Giorno, whose grip continued to tighten around you.

“(y/n), I’ve come to take you away from here, it’s obvious leaving you in the care of your father was a mistake. And you, step away from her this instant, you will regret it if you don’t,”

You hadn’t noticed the swarm of black suits that had surrounded you all, ready to pounce at Giorno’s command. His intense gaze had not left your face while your mother spoke, searching for the slightest tell indicating you might have known about this, but you were just as perplexed as he was… the guilt of him doubting you twisting his features even further.

“It’s alright, stand down men… while you really have a nerve of breaking into my property, I feel that this can be solved amicably, I’d hate for (y/n) to have to contend with any discord between us,” he spoke with a calm, even voice but that didn’t match the fury brewing in his eyes.

“Amicable? You take my daughter away from her home and you still feel like this is something that can be talked out of? You really are a piece of work!”

“Better to be the overbearing lover than the neglectful mother…” Giorno’s tone was dripping with cynicism as he handed you to one of your awaiting guards.

“You sick bastard!” your mother cried out. As if being pushed back by a glowing force that you couldn’t quite discern, the young don was thrown backwards. You hated feeling so powerless. Giorno sat up and smiled mockingly, before launching into an attack of his own you assumed, as you saw a similar golden glow envelop his body, and the bodies of the security personnel backing him up.

“Please, stop it! All of you!” you wanted to run out between them but you were restrained by your guard. It didn’t take long for Giorno and his men to restrain your mother and her associate, taking care to leave them largely unharmed while you were still present. Giorno had made one fatal error though… blame it on overconfidence or his need to constantly check on you, he had turned away and left himself wide open for a last ditch attack from your mother as she broke free. At that very moment, your body moved itself before you could even think, and faster than you ever thought possible, pushing him out of the way with only a second to spare, as the attack hit the very spot he had stood on just a moment before, shattering the marble flooring on contact. The room was enveloped in silence, Giorno motioned for his guards to leave the room, as did your mother to her partner.

“(y/n) … tesoro mio… are you okay? You… you saved me…” he said as he kneeled next to your shaking, winged form, combing his hands through your hair as he tried to get a look at your face. You looked up to see Giorno with a wide eyed golden figure hovering over him, approaching you was your mother, with a luminescent humanoid woman matching her footsteps.

“Tesoro, it seems you’re a stand user after all,” mentioned Giorno, still gazing at you, this time with an expression you hadn’t seen from him before. Completely overwhelmed by the recent events, you sat for a moment, trying to regulate your breathing with the exercises Giorno practiced with you when your anxiety overwhelmed you.

“So these are what stands are… they look terrifying…” you say, finally managing to normalize your breathing and take command of your senses once again. “where is my stand then? I presume these two figures belong to you and mother.”

“Yours is different amore… are you able to walk? Come with me…” Giorno lead you to one of the mirrors so you could see how your stand manifested; you had large wings that had sprouted from your back, your eyes glowed colorlessly, and you had luminescent geometric patterns running down your face and body, akin to the patterns you would find on a circuit board. “You have what is known as a phenomenon stand, this means that it changes your body rather than manifesting a separate entity,”

“I see…”

“We can figure out the extent of your abilities another time, for now I need to see those injuries,”

“Excuse me? You’re not doing anything further with her, I’m still serious about taking back (y/n),” interjected your mother sarcastically.

“Are you trying to anger me on purpose? I loathe having to repeat myself. Do not mistake my unwillingness to kill you this very instant on anything other than respect for (y/n),”

“Likewise…”

“You’re both so selfish!” surprised to hear you raise your voice that much, both parties were stunned to silence.

“I’m a person with my own will, I have feelings, thoughts, desires, dreams… but neither of you bother to consider any of that… Giorno, you essentially abducted me, under the ruse of protecting me, I’m sure you would have found a way to keep me safe while I lived my own life, if it was that important to you, but you weren’t interested in that… if you had just approached me like a normal person, I’d still have fallen for you… well I guess now we’ll never know … And you… mother- I use that term liberally- abandoned me… abandoned us, I don’t care what the reasons were, you left me to grow up without a mother, and now you come here and ridicule me with this dramatic display of affection,” your voice began to crack but you wouldn’t let them see you cry, not so soon after finally finding your voice, so you left them there and went off to your special spot in the far corner of the estate. You knew that Giorno created that little piece of heaven for you strategically, as it was visible from his study, but it served as your safe place, and it was what you needed right now.

Giorno’s mind was clouded and he felt an uncomfortable suffocating sensation in his chest. Glancing at your mother it was apparent that your emotional outpouring had affected her as well.

“I think its best if you leave,”

“Wait, Giorno… perhaps this approach wasn’t the best way to do this, I underestimated you…”

“For the sake of curiosity, what do you propose?”

“That’s going to depend on how you answer my next question…”

“For someone with as few options as you have, you’re incredibly brazen,” shot back Giorno, clearly becoming tired of the conversation.

“I spoke to her father before coming here… he told me about my son… is… is he dead?” speaking earnestly this time, your mother steeling herself for what the young don would say to her. He observed her intently, debating whether it would be safe to divulge any information to her.

“That’s classified information,” he said, knowing full well that the idiot was alive somewhere, unable to be a threat to anyone again, unfortunately he couldn’t divulge this information to anyone. If she was smart enough she would be able to figure it out for herself, any more than that he could not offer.

“I understand… Fine, I’ll back off, (y/n) can stay here… but I need to speak to her, to explain everything, when she’s ready though…”

Giorno contemplated for a moment, feeling oddly moved by the change in your mother’s demeanor, he found himself agreeing with her, “Fine… I’ll allow it, but I can’t have you here, never again, if you need to see her, we’ll come to you… if that’s all, I need to check on (y/n)” Your mother took her leave, thoughts of the bizarre events of the day dominating her thoughts.

You listlessly played with the water in the fountain you sat beside, eyeing the way the sunshine made the droplets that fell from your fingertips look like gems. Hearing the scrunching sound of grass being stepped on, you knew that Giorno was approaching you. Unwilling to turn around to face him, you continued to look at the water.

“May I sit with you?” his voice was tender and didn’t match his imposing figure. Looking up his striking face, framed by golden waves, you nodded wordlessly.

“Talk to me cara…”

“What do you want me to say?”

“What’s on your mind…”

You paused, thinking carefully before starting to speak. “There’s so much on my mind… I… I just can’t understand you. You bring me here under the most dubious circumstances, but treat me like I’m the center of your world. I want to hate you for taking me away from my world, but I’ve never felt as loved by anyone in that world as much as I do here with you. How can you look at me with eyes so gentle now, when those same eyes were ready to kill not even two hours ago? How am I supposed to make up my mind about you when your every action contradicts the next?”

“It’s simple bella… I love you… you’re above the rules I set for everyone else… my one weakness is you, I’m sorry, I just don’t know how else to be, it’s either everything or nothing. Perhaps, forget about what you think and focus on how you feel… You know, we aren’t that different, the two of us… so many parents between us and barely enough traits among them to make up one good guardian, having to basically raise ourselves, so much pressure from such a young age, being scared of what lurks in the dark, experiencing so much physical pain, you just become immune to it. I have to admit, I was jealous of that brave assault by your mother, I don’t know if anyone would do the same for me… except you of course… you almost died to get me out of harm’s way… and just when I thought I couldn’t love you any more than I do…”

The gentle way he cupped your chin, as if you were made of crystal, and the swirl of emotion in his eyes, compelled you to act on your impulses, kissing him passionately, releasing some of the pent up emotions and frustrations that have been building up for the longest time. His free hand curled itself around your waist, while your hands tangled themselves in his hair. Resting your forehead on his, you hear him murmuring affirmations of his love for you.

“I love you too, Gio,” the words just rolled off your tongue as if you were always meant to say them. Giorno, seemingly moved by your placid declaration, buried his face in your hair, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo that he loved so much. What you didn’t see was the sardonic smile blooming on his handsome face. He always was a master at deception… although, it couldn’t be classified as deception if most of what he said was true… could it? He didn’t want to play the sympathy card today, but it was the only way he could firmly cement your place with him for good. Pulling away for a moment, looking at the love-struck expression on your face as you softly move your hand from his hair to his chest, he could see that you were finally complete- entirely devoted to him… there was no room for guilt this time.

#giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #Hades!Giorno x Persephone! Reader #Hades x Persephone modern AU #yandere jjba prt 5 #yandere giogio #yandere giorno #giorno giovanna #giorno #yandere jjba x reader #kidnapping #manipulation

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catt-nuevenor · 4 years ago

Note

I don't know if you're okay with this kinds of asks (please ignore this if you're uncomfortable with it) but... If the ro and mc are having 'fun' In bed when suddenly their kid comes in/almost comes in, how do they react? What kinds of excuse would they say?🤣

As previously stated, I'm trying to steer clear of cringe humour with this react, and instead going more into healthy responses to such an awkward encounter.

Hope you all enjoy!

I HIGHLY recommend you head over to the reacts page to read this. There you can enter your own names and pronouns for the characters.

Reacts Page

P swept the blanket up and over MC in a single motion, the fabric falling with an uncanny perfection across their otherwise naked body. Searching through the folds of bedding and discarded clothing, P found their hand and held it comfortingly as they propped herself up and smiled at their partner's child.

"Hi CH." They smiled, doing their best to keep the queasy shame out of their voice. It wasn't anything to feel ashamed of really, but instinct drove a heated blush up from the base of their neck.

The little child was quiet, looking between their ren and P in a stilted silence.

MC turned about in the bed, facing their child. "Are you alright CH?" They asked gently.

CH frowned. Not in an angry way, they didn't seem sad or hurt either, just puzzled. "What are you doing?"

P felt their lover's entire body tense in the span of a heartbeat.

"We..." MC looked up at their with the devotion of utter desperation.

"We were making love CH."

CH's frown got deeper, whilst their ren paled.

"What's does-" The child began, only to be interrupted by a voice from the corridor behind them.

"CH? Could you come and help us with breakfast please?"

P let out a subtle sigh, the expression, along with their relief, shared equally by their lover. After reassurances from them both, CH turned and scampered out of the room, almost forgetting to close the door behind them.

"I could just about kiss that woman right now." P chuckled, deflating bodily, resting their forehead against the warm sanctuary of MC's shoulder.

"Do you think A realised?" They mused, playing with a curly lock of their partner's hair, while their other hand was still entwined with P's.

The woman huffed. "Probably. Even more reason to sing their praises later."

MC laughed, and P lightly pressed the tip of their nose to the sound. "I'm not sure they'd really appreciate a serenade, or a kiss for that matter."

Propping herself back up on their elbows P smirked. "Really? I have it on good authority that I'm a pretty good kisser. Or are you just trying to keep me all to yourself?"

They'd find CH later, sit them down, and no matter how much it might make them both squirm, they'd answer all their questions as honestly, and sensitively as they could. P would also go find A and let their off of washing duty for the next two months.

But that was all for later. In that moment P and MC had far more present matters on their minds.

L felt a little bit sick. What the hell had they done?!

Why hadn't they remembered to lock the damn door? It was automatic most nights. Tuck CH in, retreat back to their private room, get utterly engrossed in MC, and before anything else, lock the door.

They hadn't noticed at first. They was too busy with 'other matters' to notice the slow creak of the door's hinge, or the small voice that asked for their ren. MC had. They'd noticed right away.

With a mortified groan, L pulled their knees up to their chest, tucking their head into the cradle of their crossed arms. Great, just great. One stupid mistake and not only had they likely traumatised a small child, but they'd more than likely ruined their relationship with MC.

Their soon to be ex-lover was with their child, trying to find a way to explain what it was they saw, and settle them back to sleep. How the hell they planned to do that L didn't have the foggiest. And what was L doing? Hiding like a coward.

This time, when the door's hinges gave their low creak L heard them, but they didn't look up. They couldn't bear to see MC's disappointment.

The bed dipped slightly as they sat down, and L automatically shuffled aside to make a bit more room. Then, a thick silence descended, burying their shame beneath renewed guilt.

"Are you alright L?" MC asked gently, startling the young fisher.

They looked up, eyes wide, jaw slack, thinking they must have misheard. "What?"

With a compassionate smile, MC reached out and took L's hand. "I said, are you alright?"

"I- You-" They spluttered, treading between confusion and annoyance as their eyes flickered between their partner and the door. "But, CH-"

"Is fine L." MC said, stroking their thumb across L's knuckles. "A little confused, but mostly worried that they upset you."

"What!?"

MC leant in close and kissed the gaping woman's cheek. "Remember it is still the middle of the night love. You don't want to wake the others do you?"

"No. But-" L dropped their indignation to a whisper. "What about CH? How can they just be fine with it?"

MC shifted further onto the bed, tucking their bare feet back under the rumpled blankets, gesturing for L to lay down beside them once they'd settled.

"Children understand more than you think." They explained, pulling the blankets up over them once L had joined them. "I told them the truth, that we were showing each other how much we loved each other in the way adults in a relationship do. That it was a natural part of some but not all grownup relationships, and that it wasn't anything to be ashamed of or worried about."

"And they just accepted all that?"

MC nodded. "They'll probably have a lot of questions in the morning, but I'll take some time to sit with them and go through anything that worries them."

"I-" L struggled to find their way back from the crippling embarrassment of moments ago, and back to some sense of logic. They should be a part of this somehow. The realisation almost threw their straight back into full scale panic, but they did their best to keep calm.

CH thought they'd upset their, while they still feared they'd upset them. The most straightforward way to reassure them both was to talk it through. Maybe...

At least they'd both have MC's support, no matter how awkward the conversation went.

When L asked to help, MC kissed their so sweetly they felt some of the anxiety melt away at once. The rest would likely sit there till the talk tomorrow. For now though there was comfort, warmth, and the familiar tangle of limbs to enjoy as they let their dreams sweep them away into sleep.

"Ready for this?" A asked, squeezing MC's hand tightly for a few moments when they saw the panic in their eyes.

With a dry gulp MC shook their head. "Not really." They glanced at the open door, no doubt wondering whether there was still time to make a run for it before their child arrived.

A patted their knee, smiling warmly when they turned their nervous gaze to their.

"I guess I just wasn't expecting to have to have... this conversation, not yet anyway."

The Cunningwoman gave a sympathetic nod. "No, I imagine not."

It wasn't really anyone's fault. Just a poor sense of timing, and forgetfulness. It was lucky CH didn't come in a minute or two earlier, who knew what they would have thought upon seeing that particular part of their love making. It was all unfortunate but none of them could go back and change the past. It simply was what it was.

A took in a calming breath, letting the morning air flow in and fill their lungs, before letting it go once more. It had to be done. If they simply let the matter lie CH would more than likely build up their own theories on what they had seen. Would they think they were fighting? That A was in someway hurting MC? Or worse would they think that sex was something expected of them at their age?

The idea made A's skin squirm, and their insides writhe. No. They would tell CH what they were doing plainly, without oversimplification, or gratuitous detail. They'd explain that it should be an action of sincere and mutual trust, that no one should ever take what was not freely given, and that it was a complexity of grown up relationships, and that when the time was right, and they met someone they cared for and trusted, and that both they and their partner wanted to take their relationship to that level of physical intimacy, only then would they need to consider sex.

MC chuckled quietly beside their, attempting to muffle the sound behind their palm.

"What is it?" A asked with an amused smile of their own.

"You have that look about you." MC explained, placing a fingertip on the fold of a slight frown that sat between their dark brows. "The same one you get when Erda gives you a difficult customer to manage."

A laughed. "I'm sure CH will be much better behaved than that."

Their lover shrugged. "I don't know. How many seven year olds have you dealt with?" The soul smirked as a lick of confusion danced across their partners expression. "Any question you hope they don't ask, you can guarantee they will."

A flutter of nerves tickled at the base of A's throat, though they did their best to remain outwardly calm. "Well, it's a good thing I have a practiced hand with me, isn't it?" They said, laying a soft kiss against MC's jaw, revelling in the sigh it drew from them.

There was a light tap of a tiny hand upon the door. A drew herself back, settling as naturally as they could beside MC, still holding their hand as they called out to their child.

"I don't understand why you hid it from them this long." K said, resting their weight back upon one hip, pivoting slightly to keep MC in sight as they fussed around their room.

"Because a little child shouldn't have to worry about things like that." They snapped, frustration and shame making their temper brittle.

K watched quietly as they slumped onto the bed, their head resting in their hands. They didn't understand the burden their efenhlytta struggled beneath. Making love was natural, every creature upon the earth or in the waters procreated in some form, yet it was only people that put such pressures on the act. Made guilt when there was no logical reason to be any.

Cautiously they sat beside their lover, and despite the ease with which they might do so, they made no move to touch them. "What will you tell them?" K asked, keeping their words, and their voice, calm and gentle.

Of course they expected them to bristle, or snap out a response born of frustration once more, and they was shocked when instead MC slumped further into the bed.

"I don't know." They said on a fragile whisper. "I don't know what I'm going to tell them."

"I didn't realise this would upset you to this degree." K said, after a brief but pointed silence had settled between them unbroken for many minutes. "Would you like me to talk to CH."

The child's ren looked up from the cradle formed of their fingers, considering their with something close to curiosity, though the finer detail of what it was that curiosity was focused upon seemed lost to them both.

"You'd do that?" MC asked, clearly not ready to believe K's answer before they'd even had chance to reply.

The strange woman nodded. "Of course, if you want me to."

They let their mind linger a while on the offer, the ease at which they might pass on the burden of the conversation they had no desire to have. But deep down they knew they could never accept.

It wouldn't do CH any good. They needed to be comfortable when they discussed what had to be discussed, and while they both got along far better than they used to, K's presence still unsettled their child.

"No." MC sighed, though they made effort to smile through the exhale. "Thank you though. If-"

They hesitated.

"If you would... be there with me? When I talk to CH."

With lithe fingers, K caught MC's chin and delicately tilted their head about so that their eyes might meet. "For you my efenhlytta, I would stand before the greatest of challenges, no matter how dire."

K kiss demanded all the attention MC's worries might steal away for themselves. When they pushed them back into the sheets, they could not help the muffled gasp.

"Shall we finish our own conversation?" K murmured into the delightful warmth of their efenhlytta's neck, kissing where their quickened pulse fluttered visibly beneath their skin.

"What- what conversation is that?" MC breathed, their breath hitching as K nipped ever so lightly at their prize.

The strange one smiled. "The conversation your child interrupted earlier, of course."

#myrkmire #reacts #interactive fiction #hosted games #choice of games

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jooniesthigh · 4 years ago

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kiss me in the dark (1) | jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x reader, slight Namjoon x reader

Genre: College/Frat House AU, Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Angst

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, possible smut

Rating: 17+

Words: 1,931

Summary: I’ve known Namjoon since we were children, I love all his friends except for one. Jeon Jungkook. Who does he think he is trying to kiss me randomly?

A/N: Honestly, this could go very badly since I haven’t written since 2018 so bear with me please?

You walked into your shared apartment style dorm, you had no urge to be social whatsoever; all you craved was to be smothered by all your pillows and fall into an eternal sleep. You were maybe 5 feet from entering your sanctuary before being ambushed by your roommate, Jennie.

“Y/N, it’s finally over! Midterms are done with now we can go and celebrate after all that hard work!” Jennie yelled as she wrapped herself around you and held you tightly.

You were startled abruptly by the way Jennie wrapped herself around you so you lost your footing and caused yourself and Jennie to fall across the couch.

You huffed and stared at Jennie and said, ”Jennie, I’m tired... I don’t really want to go out and get sloshed..”Jennie looked at you with her pouty puppy face and basically begged, ”But, Y/N Beta Tau is hosting a party! We have to go plus, I know you miss Namjoon and the boys!”

You knew Jennie was right, you did miss spending time with Namjoon, he was your best friend basically; you even missed Yoongi and his cocky self.

“Jennie, that’s not fair... using the boys against me like that... If I go to this party, will you promise me you’ll let me sleep in until now?” You grouchily ask your sweet roommate.

“I absolutely promise I’ll let you sleep in! Hell, I’ll even let you sleep in until 2 PM!” Jennie yells eagerly as a response. You smirk at that response looking forward to be able to sleep in to your heart’s content.

“Just let me get ready, I refuse to see Namjoon and the rest of the boys with gross midterm hair!” I say in a joking manner as you shove Jennie off of yourself playfully.

Once you were able to escape Jennie’s clutches you ran straight for your room so you’ll be able to get ready peacefully, and that is exactly what you did after you took a much needed shower. As you rummaged through your closet, you decided on a pair of light wash ripped jeans and a black bandeau top.

On the way to the party you balance yourself on the edge of the sidewalk and ask, ”So, is Suzy meeting us there tonight?” You almost slipped multiple times while asking that question.

Jennie huffed as she watched you anxiously, ”no, no she’s spending the weekend with her boyfriend. Hey! Be careful, I don’t want to be the person to have to explain to Namjoon you cracked your head open because you were!”

“Well it’s a good thing I didn’t crack my head open then, now you won’t have to say a word.” I said as you leaned away from the ledge and walked normally, “Are you planning on hooking up with anyone tonight?” You asked as you watch all the fellow college student move about, most likely attending different parties.

Jennie turns to look at you as you both make a left turn, “If the offer presents itself then sure, but if it doesn’t I probably won’t.”

You looked at Jennie, admiring her beauty and confidence. She really knew how to carry herself, you definitely have a lot of respect for her, “Jen, you're such a confident and beautiful woman, you will most definitely find someone to hook up with.”

Jennie smiled at you as she said, “I mean I know I could hook up with someone but, I’m just kind of tired of hooking up with random guys. I think I just want a stable relationship, I mean we’re juniors so we only have one more year here.”

As you got closer to the frat house the deep conversation was starting to come to a close, “No, I totally get it! I get like that too, sometimes I just want to be in a relationship but as of right now I am fine with it just being me!”

You and Jennie arrived the front of the frat houses shortly after that conversation ended, at the entrance of the frat house you are greeted by Jin, “Y/N, wow Definitely didn't expect to see you here!”

“Yeah, Jennie had me come here against my will, I would very much prefer to be in my comfy bed right now,” You said with a pouty expression.

After hearing your response Jin let out a loud belly laugh, ”Still as lazy as ever I see.” You pout in a teasing manner, before asking, ”Hey, do you know where Namjoon is?”

“I think he’s either in the kitchen or playing beer pong with Hobi, ”Jin replied with a stretch. Upon hearing Jin’s response you turn over to look at Jennie, “You don’t mind right? If I go see Namjoon?”

Jennie rolled her eyes at your question, ”No, I don’t mind silly. Go on, go spend time with Namjoon. I know you miss him like crazy. Don’t worry about me dummy, I’ll be fine. If it makes you feel any better I’ll be here keeping Jin company until he gets tired of me.”

You laughed at Jennie’s response, ”Alright, alright I’ll let you be by yourself for a bit. If I can’t find you later meet me in Jin’s room,” After getting Jennie’s response you ran off to go find Namjoon.

It didn’t take long to find him either, he was in the living room area playing beer pong with Hobi, they were playing against two other frat brothers. You ran up behind Namjoon and wrapped your arms around him, ”Nammie! I missed you so much!”

Namjoon jumped slightly before realizing that the arms around him were yours, “Yah Y/N I missed you too. I wish you wouldn’t scare the life out of me though,” You grinned mischievously at his jumpy response before sticking your tongue out at him.

After you let go of Namjoon, you decided to watch them play a few rounds of beer pong. Even though, you didn’t particular enjoy parties all that much you still appreciated them for being able to allow to spend more time with Namjoon, Jennie, and the rest of the boys.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw none other than Jeon Jungkook. You weren’t that big of a fan of him to be honest though, you didn’t really know him that well either.

When you were first introduced to Namjoon’s frat brothers Jungkook wasn’t around and he never showed himself when you hung out with the others. What did know about him thought was that he had a huge habit of messing around with women, using them to his heart’s content then just chucking them aside as if they were nothing at all.

After first, you didn't notice it but Jungkook was actually looking in your direction. Initially, you thought nothing of it, you thought it was maybe because his next target was behind you but upon further inspection you came to the awful conclusion that you were his target.

You felt absolutely uncomfortable with the intense gaze that Jungkook was directing towards you, it was as if you the only person in the room to him. Under normal circumstances, that would've been absolutely adoring but since it was coming from Jungkook it left a sour aftertaste in your mouth.

You let Namjoon know you were going to head over to the bathroom for a bit, you just had to get away from Jungkook’s piercing gaze. You tried to maneuver through the crowd of college students, most of them drunk. Eventually you made it to a bathroom, once you were inside you proceeded to lock the door to make sure no one accidentally came in. You groaned in a frustrating manner as you walked over to the sink and proceeded to splash your face with cold water.

You shivered slightly at how cold the water was, after you were done splashing your face you reached for a face towel. As you dried your face, you just couldn’t get over how soft the towel was you could just sleep on this towel and be content.

You decided to stay in the bathroom for a while before making the decision to head out to go back to Namjoon. Once you finally got yourself under control you sighed as you put up the towel before turning towards the door and decided to pluck it before choosing to open it, you weren’t expecting to see anyone behind the locked door; so you you were pretty surprised to see Jungkook there.

Upon seeing who was waiting for you on the other side of the door, you stepped back slightly, “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you wait, I’ll just get out of your way,” You tried to maneuver you way out of the door, even though Jungkook wasn’t giving you much room to get out fast enough.

You were almost out of that uncomfortable situation before you suddenly felt a hand wrap itself onto your wrist, it stopped you from going any further. You looked back to see that Jungkook was holding onto your wrist, his hand was slightly but it wasn’t sweaty in any way. “Is there something I could help you with? If not, could I have my hand back?” You say as you stare at his wrist in a confused manner.

“Oh, sorry... I was just curious as to how you know Namjoon-hyung?” Jungkook asked curiously but you noticed that looked in his eyes, he was eyeing your body with a lust-filled gaze.

You gulped nervously before saying, “We grew up as childhood friends, I’ve known him my whole life.”

Jungkook stepped forward before saying, “Sorry, if I’m being intrusive I’ve just never seen you around before at the frat house.”

You huffed before saying, “I’ve been to the frat house, you’re just never there when I visit.”

To create some distance between Jungkook and you started to move backwards, it was short-lived though because your back touched the wall, “Maybe I should hang out at the frat house more often then,” Jungkook said with a smirk as he reached his other hand out to caress the left side of your face, his hand roamed until the tips of his fingers are grazing your lip.

“Jungkook, what’re you doing?” You asked nervously as you knew what was about to happen.

“I’m just talking to a beautiful girl in the bathroom, I have no idea what you're talking about,” Jungkook said as he leaned down and pressed a searing kiss onto your lips, you were and weren't expecting it but now that it had happened you didn’t know what to do with yourself. All you could focus on was the velvet softness of his kiss Jungkook was an extremely good kisser.

You didn’t realize it at the moment but you were also kissing him back with such fervor, you were kissing Jungkook with such a neediness, if anyone walked on this you would be truly embarrassed.

When you realized what you were even doing you managed to snap out of the heady, cloudy sensation and push Jungkook away from you. You were so upset over the fact that he kissed you and you had the audacity to kiss him back, that you slapped him through the red blazing anger that blinded your logical side from peeking though.

Once you realized what you had done, you ran out of the bathroom; you didn’t even go back to see Namjoon, you just felt so disgusted with yourself that you just ended up running up into Jin’s room, you managed to lock the door and hide yourself underneath his comforters.

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years ago

Text

June Contest Submission #21: Dashing

Words: ca. 5,500 Setting: 18th Century Caribbean/ Non-Canon Lemon: lime CW: Mild Nudity/ Swearing/ Incest/ NO Lemons/ Small Limes/Violence

A/N:

Bold/Italic indicates that a character is writing.

Italic(with no Bold) indicates a character’s inner thoughts.

This story is a work of fiction and is not intended to represent a shred of historical accuracy in any way.

Dashing

Dearest mother,

is this truly where you envisioned my life to carry me? Did you foresee that your dutiful daughter, Elsa, would be crated onto a ship bound for worlds unknown when you married her to Lord Hans Westergaard of the Dutch West India Trading Company? Did you not wish to keep your only daughter close, say on the same continent? I apologize, I should not start a letter so drearily. Conceal, don’t feel. It has been weeks at sea and I am fatigued. Before I forget, I must thank you for the wonderful parting gift. A book of dashing swashbucklers to distract from the otherwise ceaseless monotony of blue only occasionally broken by a thin veil between Heaven and Poseidon. We have entered a bit of unfortunate weather and the ship rolls like a devil. The thunder grows ever louder, and sometimes it sounds as if it’s right on top—

The wooden crate that was the captain’s quarters flipped on its side. Tables, chairs, and a lady found themselves tumbling across the lacquered walls of the gilded box before falling back to the polished floor now stained with spilled ink and a smattering of blood.

Elsa held her head as she shook off the ringing in her ears. The doors to the cabin burst open where a panicked, and soaked, Hans Westergaard stood with arms outstretched between the paneled glass and his heart beating to the drone of endless rain.

“Hans..? What was—”

“Pirates!! Hurry, hide yourself! They are already boarding!”

Pirates? Attacking in the middle of a storm?

Elsa’s thoughts were cut short by the screams of men slicing through the roar of thunder and canons. Hans had locked the door behind him, leaving the fear to bubble within her corset. She frantically ran to the closet, but her hands had begun to shake as she fumbled with the latch.

Another loud *THOOM* rocked the cabin, but this time it was against the locked door.

Elsa finally got the latch open and threw herself inside amongst the forest of silk and linen. From within her sanctuary, all she could do was listen and pray.

*THOOM*

Glass and wood crashed.

Heels of heavy boots knocked.

*knock*

The shrill of Elsa’s breath.

She held her quivering lips and tried to force the air back into her lungs.

The *knock* of boots grew. It trickled, slowly, until the canals of her ears were flooded. So close that she felt as if she would overflow with the anxiety and trapped air.

Then silence.

God, please protect me. Or send someone to protect me. Please, send anyone! Send Mr. Crusoe if you have to!

She was hit with a blinding light…

and a hand around her throat.

NO!! Get your filthy hands off me!

She screamed in her mind for her voice was clutched in the coarse grip around her neck. She fought with all her pampered might, her arms striking in all directions until they too were held in place by a second firm shackle.

Finally, Elsa managed to force her voice through the death grip.

“Get…. your brutish hands… OFF ME!!”

Blackness began to overtake her vision. The brute had her lifted against the back of the closet, her feet dangled in the air and the force around her neck tightened.

Her ears were once again flooded, but with the sound of her own heartbeat as the blood in her veins struggled to course. Until a most unexpected sound washed everything else into non-existence.

“Elsa…?”

….

That voice… a woman’s voice? I am being manhandled by a woman? And how does she know my name?

Elsa forced the darkness in her eyes to recede. The grip loosened and she fell to the closet floor. All she could see through the blur of burst veins was a wide, feathered hat, impossibly maroon hair, braided and beaded and rather filthy, and two verdant gems staring with a wide-eyed familiarity.

I know those eyes…

…..

“Anna…?”

Her attacker backed away, seemingly unsure of what she was looking at.

They stood within that broken, gilded box of a captain’s cabin. Alone with the sounds of swords and gunfire lost amongst the storm of surprise and uncertainty surrounding them.

Elsa could not bear it any longer.

“What happened to your hair?”

And years of separation vanished.

“My HAIR?! It’s been ten years and the first thing you do is judge my hair?!? Not, ‘oh hey, Anna, you look good for a dead girl’ or ‘oh my darling little sister, it’s been so long. I’ve missed you terribly?’. Either of those things would have been more normal!”

Elsa picked herself up and gently caressed the rapidly forming bruise around her neck.

“Nothing about this is normal! You tried to strangle me!”

“Oh relax. I was just trying to stop you from screaming and then knock you out.”

“Ah, I see. I am most relieved to hear that your plan was to simply render me unconscious.”

Anna’s head jerked back in a motion of mild disgust.

“Why are you talking like that? You didn’t use to sound so hoity-toity.”

Elsa looked rather indignant at the accusation as she mumbled “It’s not ‘hoity-toity’. Its grace and sophistication”.

“Well, you’re not in a graceful or sophisticated situation so come on.”

Anna grabbed her slender arm and she had almost forgotten that the hulking brute who was upon her moments before was the same lithe girl pulling her out into the rain as easily as a toddler dragging her teddy. The rain had washed the image of her sister away and all that was left was a pirate.

And her fear.

The ship rocked, lulled by the sudden absence of violence. Elsa found herself before a horde of men. Each one a more frightening image than the last and each one fit into her imaginary brute far better than the frame of her sister.

So much for Mr. Crusoe…

An immensely rotund man stepped forward with a sneer in his mouth and a hunger in his eye. Elsa had no idea someone got so large living on a ship. “Oi Cap’n! You found a bit o’ treasure there!”

His grubby hand reached for Elsa’s bosom in the most indelicate manner before a blade came between his dirty fingernail and the lace of her corset.

“You know the rules, Bob,” Anna said with a voice commanding Poseidon’s wrath. “You touch her and you lose a finger.”

Bob had the look of a scolded schoolboy as Anna dragged Elsa to the edge of the ship. “Aw cap’n… you always get the blonde ones!”

Anna spun around in a fury, leaving Elsa to stand perilously on the thin plank that formed a makeshift bridge. She panicked as she fought for her balance in her heels and voluminous dress that was gaining pounds of water every second.

“You shut your hole or I will shove Pete’s peg leg so far down your throat that you’ll be a three-legged barstool on Tortuga with a sign that says ‘reserved for Whale-Butt Willie’. Do I make myself CLEAR?”

*Silence* as the men all looked at each other in submission.

“Aye, cap’n…”

Elsa swung her arms in vain to save herself from falling when Anna decided to skip the plank altogether, lifted her like a commoner’s bride, and leaped across the gap between ships. She was carried to a new gilded box, although this one noticeably less gilded but with significantly richer contents.

“Let go of me, Anna! I am not a child, I am your older sis—”

Elsa landed on her butt as Anna crossed her arms.

“No, you’re not. Because your little sister died ten years ago. Now be quiet while I think of what to do with you.”

Elsa did her best to wring the rain out of her skirt, channeling the fear and anger building from her situation.

“What to do with me? You mean like the other ‘blondes’? Tell me, Anna, what exactly do you plan to do with me?”

“Elsa, don’t.”

“Not only do you slay men, but you bed women as well? Do you mean to have your way with me?” The anger was rapidly overtaking her fear as she glared at her little sister who still stood with her arms crossed, looking away.

“What? Gross, you’re my sister!”

“I don’t claim to know the depravities you pirates get up to. And you just said that I am not your sister. How am I to interpret that other than to treat you as you appear. A pirate who’s kidnapped me.”

Elsa’s gaze turned hard as thoughts filled her head of all the women Anna had grabbed by the neck and forced her will upon.

“…How could you, Anna?”

Anna’s shoulders visibly stiffened.

“I said, don’t.”

But Elsa did anyway.

“How could you do that to those women? You have your way with them and then what? Sell them into slavery? Is that my fate? You call yourself a woman while forcing—”

*SLAP*

Elsa stood, speechless, as a red brand formed across her cheek. The pain was nothing compared to the shock that came from her sister’s palm now embedded into her skin.

“Don’t you DARE judge me! You have been out here for all of five minutes. I have been on these waters since I was twelve FUCKING YEARS OLD! You don’t think I have had to put up with some shit?! You stand there in that ivory tower and judge my life when you don’t know the first thing about it!”

Anna’s chest was heaving in rage while she stood pointing an accusatory finger. Elsa remained motionless and silent, still trying to process the sensation across her cheek and the words being said.

Anna’s breathing started to calm. She crossed her arms again and turned so that she didn’t have to look at the bright red memento left behind by her hand.

“I…I don’t force them. I never force them. Don’t assume you know what life has been like for me. I could never do those things. I would never. My ship has rules, and those rules include being god-damned respectful so you better be god-damned respectful of me.”

Elsa’s fingers spread across her cheek, matching tip-for-tip against the first contact she has had with her sister since they were children. Her voice was low, almost a whisper.

��You’re right. I don’t know what your life has been like. I don’t know what drove you to run away, but I have a pretty good idea seeing as how I lived it in your stead. Perhaps… I sound so much like mother because…

… I was left behind.”

Anna felt the words land across her cheek as assuredly as Elsa felt her palm. She refused to turn and look at her sister. The shame of the truth was staring at her from across her own cabin and she would not bear it. She quietly stormed toward the door.

“Anna…? Where are you going?”

Still refusing to turn, Anna simply said “someone needs to pilot the ship” and walked into the rain.

I sat alone, looking out my window for years wondering if she would ever return to me, and now that she has she slaps me and holds me captive so that she can decide my fate?

Storm be damned, Elsa launched herself through the doors and turned toward the banister that led to the helm above. Her adrenaline-fueled legs carried her halfway up the stairs before she saw Anna at the wheel, staring at her in absolute shock.

Their eyes met and time seemed to slow to a fraction. Elsa felt the sound of Anna’s name on her breath as she began to release it into the howling wind. She didn’t feel the rain, or hear the shouting, or see the pully flying through the air as it slammed into her skull. All she knew was that she was about to yell out her sister’s name after she failed to do so ten years ago from her window as she watched Anna leave her behind.

\\///////////////////////////////

I’ve had the most wondrous dream. My ship was besieged by pirates! But I was not afraid for I was confronted by a most dashing figure. He was rough around the edges but with the kindest green eyes, like a crystal spring dusted with scattered sundrops through the canopy. He held me with such strength as he kissed me most tenderly. I can still taste the spicy sweetness on his lips; rum and coconut.

There he is now! The hat is missing but there is no mistaking those piercing eyes. And that hair, such an unthinkable maroon color. Yes, my dashing pirate.

\\///////////////////////////////

“Hey, you’re alive!”

As her vision cleared, Elsa lay with her back in the sand and stared wide-eyed and mouth ajar at the woman leaning above her.

“I… where…? ……..Anna?”

Anna leaned in close to inspect for signs of a concussion or any other injury. So close that Elsa caught a familiar scent from her sister’s lips.

Rum and coconut…

“Well, you look alive at least so that’s something.”

Elsa slowly sat up, fighting back a sudden pain in her temple. She reached for the side of her head and found a swath of fabric wrapped around.

“What happened?”

“You got knocked overboard. It was pretty awesome actually. You flew clear over the railing.”

“How did I get here?”

Anna placed her index finger under her bottom lip while she began to sort through her memories.

“Let’s see, first, mother married you to a slaver. Then I think I cut his head off but it’s hard to remember which dead dutchman was him. Then—”

“Anna! I meant how did I end up on this beach?”

“Oh! Be more specific, jeez. The storm carried us for a while and we washed up here.”

“You… jumped in after me?”

Anna’s face turned solemn but determined. She stood, clearly uncomfortable with the words she was about to say.

“Of course. I wasn’t going to leave you behind again.”

And despite the fact that she managed to get the words out, she still walked away in that same manner trying to keep the unsettling shame at arm’s length.

As Elsa watched her sister stroll up the beach toward the tree line, the reality of her predicament suddenly dawned on her.

“Wait, Anna! Are you telling me that we are stranded on a deserted island?!”

While keeping her stride, Anna replied with a simple “yup”.

Elsa scrambled off the sand after her, with a newfound panic quickly settling in.

“What are we going to do? How are we going to survive?! We are going to starve to death. No, we will die of thirst first. Or perhaps cannibals will eat us—”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, chill out! There’s no such thing as cannibals on these islands. Seriously, you read too many books. Relax, this isn’t the first deserted island I’ve been stuck on.”

As they made their way off the beach Elsa saw swaths of blue cloth tied around branches and an array of wide leaves that formed a surprisingly well constructed little bungalow complete with a floor, walls of fabric to keep the bugs out, and a watertight roof.

“You’ve already made a house. How long was I unconscious?”

“Only since last night,” Anna said with a casual shrug.

“You constructed all this in a single morning?” Elsa’s jaw had dropped. “Where did you get this material…”

As she examined the blue strips of fabric and the makeshift netting her eyes grew wide and wider as she inspected herself to find that she was clad in nothing but her shift dress undergarment.

“That’s my dress!”

“Ya, you had enough fabric in that thing I could’ve made a whole other house! And the boning from the corset was a real help getting things sturdy.”

“You undressed me!”

“So? We’re sisters last I checked.”

Elsa’s modesty couldn’t help but notice that Anna was equally in a state of undress unfit for a lady. She wore a pair of simple slacks that ended at the middle of her calves and tied around a low waist with a piece of rope. Her shirt, or lack thereof, was missing a few buttons, a few sleeves, and several inches too short. Her bare ankles mocked Elsa’s sensibilities and were only eager to point out that Elsa’s ankles were also parading around the sand in nothing more than her pale skin.

“Last I checked, you told me that my sister had died. So who are you to take off my dress?” she said hoping that she wasn’t blushing.

Anna sat in her makeshift hovel with a sudden onset of melancholy.

“…You’re right. I’m sorry. The sister that you knew may have died, but perhaps I was hoping… considering that I saved you and all, that you could be… this Anna’s sister.”

Elsa came over, her heart suddenly heavy as she watched this brutish pirate transform into the girl she last saw ten years ago. She sat down next to Anna, their exposed freckled shoulders barely a hairsbreadth away.

“Anna… why did you run away?”

Anna looked down, twiddling her thumbs.

“I… I was betrothed to Duke Weasleton.”

Elsa tried to recall but confusion had clouded her memory.

“Weasleton? But he was so old. And didn’t he—”

“Die? Yes, he did die. After I left a letter opener in his eye socket.”

“Oh my God, Anna!

“Mother was going to disown me and sell me to a brothel. No way was I going to let that happen so I ran. Pretended I was a boy and stowed away on the first ship bound for the Caribbean.”

Without giving Elsa any time to dwell on her history, Anna changed the subject.

“I thought you were destined for the cloister?”

Taking the cue, Elsa obliged her sister’s request.

“I was, but after you left… I became mother’s only method for climbing the social ladder. You know I was never comfortable at social gatherings. Mother basically told me to smile, and not say anything or do anything. Conceal, don’t feel. Eventually, I caught the eye of one of the ‘princes’ of the West India Trading Company. I think you and I have spoken more words in the last few minutes than he and I spoke during our entire marriage, which admittedly was only just before we set sail.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m sorry?”

“For cutting your husband’s head off. Let’s have a toast!”

Anna reached behind her and pulled out from regions unknown a massive coconut. She reached around her other side and pulled out from different parts unknown a large knife. With the coconut in one hand and the knife in the other, she dexterously spun the coconut in her palm while slashing with the knife in precise timing to cleanly create a neat opening off the top of the husky surface.

“How did you do that?”

“Lots of practice. You should have seen the gash on my hand the first time I tried.”

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

Anna gave her sister the newly opened coconut and proceeded to open her own in the same fashion. With her own drink now ready, she motioned to Elsa’s coconut.

“To dead husbands and forgotten mothers!”

Elsa, a bit hesitant, found herself suddenly distracted. The scent of the freshly opened coconut combined with the stare of those green emeralds triggered a flutter she did not understand. She mentally shook the feeling away, concussion no doubt, and lightly knocked her coconut against the other.

“And to new sisters!”

\\///////////////////////////////

I have been stranded on an island with an unexpected companion. I don’t know how long it’s been. Time seems to pass differently here.

A moment ago, I found myself watching her for what seemed like hours. She was squatting on the beach, her elbows propped on her knees with her hands between them while she stared most intently at the sand below. I noticed that she was watching a crab enter to and fro from its burrow. At one point the crab came out of the hole and started scurrying about with its claws in the air like a little dance. Then Anna raised her own hands into the air, made little clamping motions, and started to scuttle across the sand after her newfound companion. It was absolutely absurd, this grown woman scurrying like a crab on the sand.

I can’t seem to reconcile this image of my sister who is just as boisterous, playful as ever, with this other woman. She hunted a wild boar, which she carried over her shoulders, seemingly with no effort, through the forest, barefoot, without a shred of decency. I could see the muscles of her arms tense under the weight. The freckled skin of her stomach has seen far more sun than any woman ought to. The heat and exertion caused beads of sweat to travel down her neck and across her collar bone…

It is a sight that I have neither seen nor read in my entire life and yet it is here and churning with the image of my sister scuttling across the beach. How do I reconcile such a thing?

And to make matters worse, she does not conduct herself as a lady should at all. As we explored the island, we hiked through rather rugged terrain. The ground was painful and I took quite a stumble. She had the gall to reach out and assist me as if she was a gentleman! I took the hand, grateful for the assistance nonetheless and she continued to aid me through our trek. As we scaled a wet rock, she lifted me as easily as the dead boar, and as I soared through the air, our arms glistening from the water and sweat, I couldn’t help but look up into those eyes. I thought I knew those eyes but… sometimes they stare at me in such a way…

How do I navigate these torrential feelings as they spin around my thoughts like the whirlpool of Odysseus? How can a single person be your oldest, dearest friend and yet also someone who you’ve just met… and who makes your heart skip a beat when you reach out and take her hand…and look into her eyes…?

“Wat’cha doin?”

Startled, Elsa nearly jumped out of her skin and sent the paper in her hand flying into the air where she hastily grabbed them to whisk away from her sister’s prying eyes. Anna had magically appeared behind Elsa as she sat on the beach.

A shudder trembled across Elsa’s skin as she felt the linen fabric of Anna’s shirt press against her bare shoulder blades. Two freckled arms wrapped around her shoulders and embraced her in a close but casual fashion. Yet Elsa did not receive such affection casually. She bolted up and spun to look at her younger sister who knelt in the sand with her head cocked like a confused fox.

“Really, Anna, why do you not act like a lady!”

Her response to this was to lean back, causing her shirt to stretch against her chest, and bend one knee over the other as she gave a taunting eyebrow raise to Elsa.

“I am perfectly capable of acting ‘like a lady’. In fact, It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

Elsa looked away at the sight sprawled out on the sand, basking in the sun and taunting her with wiggling eyebrows.

“Oh really?”

“You didn’t see my closet of dresses in my cabin. I can pull off quite a figure if I want to.”

“When does a pirate have need of dresses?”

Anna grew a mischievous smile. She rose from the sand and slowly sauntered over to where Elsa was standing.

“It’s one of my favorite cons. I go into one of the big cities, Port Royal or Havanna, I insert myself into the circles of aristocratic socialites whose husbands are either too preoccupied or too deceased to notice. I mingle, I dance…”

She reached out with her hand and placed a single pad of the tip of her middle finger on the edge of Elsa’s shoulder so lightly that Elsa barely felt it and yet a new shudder rocked her entire body.

“Maybe I enter the service of a… very respectable woman…”

The fingertip slowly danced across Elsa’s shoulder. It skipped over the sleeve and made its meandering way toward the base of her neck. All the while, Anna stepped around to once again place herself against the rapidly stiffening back of her sister. That single middle finger now moved in short, deliberate strokes, up and down, gradually undulating pressure against Elsa’s neck.

Her head couldn’t help but lean to the side, coaxing the finger to lengthen its stride, where she unwittingly leaned into the soft whisper of Anna’s voice against her ear.

“As I…delicately pull at the laces that bind such a… woman of standing, releasing her from her monotonous life of apathy, I let my voice carry between the edge of my lips and the arch of her ear…

‘What more will you have of me, my lady…’”

“I would have you devour me.”

“What?”

“What?” Elsa’s entire body and mind froze.

I didn’t… I couldn’t! Did I just…?

“Did you just—”

“I just— I… jest! Yes, I jest, obviously. Really, Anna, you think I don’t know how to tease you back. I may be socially inept but I can surely tease my sister!”

Elsa broke free from her sister’s thrall, clutching the papers against her thundering chest. She shuffled down the beach, her legs as rigid as wooden pillars kicking up sand in their wake. Anna watched the pitiful sight stumble over a piece of driftwood, only to pick herself back up and continue on as if nothing had happened.

\\///////////////////////////////

Conceal, don’t feel. I must conceal for I can not possibly feel what I am feeling. I can not. I do not. I love my sister because she is my sister. I have missed this connection for so long… my mind is just confused. The heat, the concussion, the sheer insanity of this place. I should find Anna. Make sure that she didn’t take what I said as anything other than sisterly teasing.

As if on cue, Anna came bounding down the beach, arm swinging wildly to get Elsa’s attention.

“Els! Come look what I found!”

She grabbed Elsa’s arm and started pulling her back toward the way she came. Elsa kept pace this time and her arm relaxed into the grip that led it down the moonlit beach. They made their way over rocks and turned a corner into a small cove. Anna stopped and spread her arms out with a beaming smile of excitement.

“I don’t understand”, was all Elsa could think to say.

To Elsa’s horror, Anna lifted her shirt over her thick, maroon locks and threw it on the rocks. She now stood half-naked in the silver rays of the night sky.

Oh, dear God in Heaven and all that is good and decent in this world and the next…

“Just watch!”

Anna looked out on the water, as black as night with only the moonbeams cascading across the surface. Then in one swift motion, she dove in.

And Elsa’s eyes became filled with magic.

The water bloomed into a burst of color. Waves of blue light rippled across the surface, radiating out from the body that had penetrated it. Anna stood in the shallow water, surrounded by the light of heaven trapped within the waves of a starlight sea.

“What magic is this…?”

“Isn’t it awesome! They are like, tiny little animals that glow at night. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?!”

“Never…”

“Well, don’t be shy Els. Dive in! They don’t bite or anything.”

Elsa hesitated. She looked at Anna, then at the black water below her, then at the mystical blue speckles dotting the surface around Anna’s waist, like a dress sewn by fairies that twinkled in the starlight. She placed one timid toe on the surface of the water and gasped in shock as spirals of blue light erupted from her touch. She looked once more to her sister who gave her the most reassuring smile in the entire world.

And she dove in.

Elsa soared through the azure sky, her loose hair flowing behind her as she came up from the surface near where stars in the sea met the stars that studded the pale skin of her sister’s body.

I can’t. I don’t! I won’t…

They stood inches apart, wading in the night sky like star-crossed constellations desperate to reach out and touch only to be perpetually far apart for eternity.

I mustn’t……..

She felt Anna peering deep into her soul. Did she wonder what was going on behind her eyes, as blue and brilliant as the luminescence surrounding their bodies? Could she sense the howling winds? Could she feel the thundering heartbeat through the water?

Would she feel it?

I… Oh to hell with it!!

The raging storm crashed against the surface. Hard and heavy and full of unbridled desire and longing. All at once, Elsa had released the torrent within her, letting the swells of her passion wash over her sister’s lips, her skin, her entire body, and soul. The magic had struck like lightning.

And then it was gone.

Anna pushed her sister away. That chasm of the cosmos restored.

“Elsa, what the hell are you—?”

“I am going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer me truthfully.” Elsa stood her ground in the heavens that would deny her.

“When you look at me, what do you see?”

“I don’t understand Elsa…”

“Do you see that girl, looking from her bedroom window? Her hand on the glass. Too afraid to go outside, too afraid to call out your name. Because when I look at you I see this girl. I see her laughing and playing and rolling around in the mud. But I also see this woman. Strong and kind. She makes me laugh, makes me inspired! I tremble when faced with the perils of the entire world, and yet she stands on top like it’s her domain! Tell me that I am insane. Tell me that all you see is that girl in the window and then I can be rid of these feelings that plague me for this impossible woman who can not be both sister and lover! Please—!!”

“YES, that is ALL I see!”

Anna was trembling. She still looked deep into her sister, locked by the pleading gaze no matter how much she wanted to turn away.

“That girl… that big sister who I left behind. When I look at you that is all I see.”

Elsa’s breathing finally started to slow. The words that she pleaded to hear had broken through the clouds of her heart and the calm would soon take over. The acceptance of what she already knew to be the way of the universe would come. Once back to civilization, she could resume her life. Banish the madness and—

“I saw her… every day. Everywhere. She was there when I joined a crew. She stood by me as I learned to man the wheel. I would not have survived a single day out here without her by my side.”

Elsa’s breathing had slowed to the point of imperception.

“…I saw her in the women that I knew. In…the women that I loved…It sounds so wrong but when you’re a young woman who relied on the faded memory of a long-lost sister for your support you can’t help but find that sister in any amount of affection you find! I had long accepted that it was my madness and I would take that madness wherever I go. And now that madness has taken a hold of you. When you came back into my life, I thought I could bury it, but instead, I passed it on to you.”

Each woman now turned away from the other, no longer able to meet each other’s solemn gaze.

“When we get off this island, I will go back to my ship and I will bring you to Curaçao and we will go our separate ways.”

Elsa simply nodded.

“I would still like to write you… if I can?” Anna’s voice had lost her usual commanding confidence.

“I would like that…” Elsa’s voice could barely carry itself over the narrow strip of water between them.

Anna slowly made her way across the water to the rocks where her discarded shirt lay. She buttoned the few remaining buttons over her chest when she heard the whisper of the water moving behind her.

Her dress clung to her body, revealed in the glow. Their eyes met for the first time once more and an inexplicable force dragged Anna back into the water and in the embrace of the siren below. Elsa’s hand caressed Anna’s cheek. Her finger traced lines down Anna’s neck. The span of cosmos between them receded until the storm that had once rocked both their celestial cores had dissipated and all that was left was their lips crossing the horizon. And Elsa felt her sister’s name on her breath once more as she finally released it to the wind.

“Would one night of madness be too much to ask?”

#elsanna #submission #June 2021 contest #prompt: storm #lime #cw: violence

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

Male Companions react to their baby/babies’s first words being “dad”

(I um...may or may not have even more maxson smut in the works so I’ll try my best to get through some cute fluff stuff first 😌 also I may have gotten carried away with a few of them 😭)

Danse:

The former Paladin didn’t ever imagine he’d ever be so lucky. Here he was, his best friend turned wife snuggled into his side as the both of you lovingly watched the newest addition to your family, his sweet little baby, as they rolled around on the carpeted floor. Just as he thought the night couldn’t have been better, that sweet little amber eyed child crawled up his lap, braced themselves with their tiny fingers clutching onto the chain of his dog tags before..

“Daddy!” They happily squealed, effectively making Danse gasp before smiling and scooping his child in his hands as he leaned back- holding them against his chest. He felt complete.

Deacon:

After everything Deacon had been through, he thought this whole predicament would forever be out of his reach. Boy was he happy he was wrong. Thankfully, you weren’t out on a mission- unless you consider going to the power noodle stand for dinner a mission. Regardless that meant that he was at home watching his little bundle of joy while you were out.

He couldn’t help himself but give in, he was supposed to be putting his baby to sleep but they just wouldn’t go down. So, he decided to play around with them, waving their prized teddy bear above them whilst talking to them with the infamous “baby voice.”

However within moments he dropped the bear, hearing his baby coo..

“Dada.” All with a cute bubbly grin.

“Yeah..that’s right.” Deacon would quickly respond, pushing his shades up to rest on his head. “I’m daddy.” He practically would coo back, scooping them up, only to laugh as they reached up and stole his glasses.

Gage:

Okay, Gage wasn’t one to cry no matter what the circumstance. Especially if it was over something emotional...that is, until the birth of his precious little baby. Boy, had they ran him through the runner, the mere idea of what danger they’d be in from literal birth because of their parents was good enough to make Gage feel as though he aged at least an additional five years.

No matter what though, it was all worth it when he was able to sit down and enjoy moments like the ones playing out before him.

The raider had momentarily went back inside the grille to grab something to drink, quietly emerging from the steel doors to be met with the sight of your moonlight silhouettes on the balcony. You holding his baby up with one hand, the other pointing off to some far off formation of stars that you pointlessly explained to your child. Once he finally approached, he felt his once frozen heart swell in his chest as he laid eyes upon his baby, their little hands wrapped around their favorite plushie...until they registered that the man coming up behind their mommy was...

“Da da!” They happily muttered, making their father’s one good eye widen to the size of a saucer. With a shaky breath, the oh so fearsome raider would reach into your arms to run his thumb across his baby’s plump little cheek.

The second you looked over your shoulder at him you couldn’t believe your eyes. There he was, a single tear rolling down his cheek and a pleased grin shaping his lips.

Hancock:

At first he didn’t fully understand. He had been playing some old record you found ages ago, dancing around with his sweet little baby in his arms when they spoke up in that tiny voice of their’s. However when he turned the music down and they enthusiastically beamed at him, leaning to where they could stare into his darkened eyes and say...

“Daddy..” with the cutest little coo..

Oh lord he couldn’t contain himself, going full speed to go find wherever you went off to and trying to get them to repeat it. Hell, if you didn’t stop him, he’d carry your child all around goodneighbor, telling everyone he could what their first words were.

Macready:

Internally, Mac did a little victory dance. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help but find his mind drifting off to the memory of Duncan’s first words. He had tried for so long to coax his son into saying “dada.” Or just something similar...but much to his surprise, his first child’s first words were literally....”doggy.” In honor of the stray dog that would routinely pester their little farm.

So, when your baby looked up at him with those lovely eyes reminiscent of your own, their cute chubby little hands on either side of his face and plainly babbled..

“Dada..”

He couldn’t contain his joy.

Maxson:

He couldn’t believe it.

With one of his two babies put down for their nap and the other in his arms, he shone a bright proud smile.He flinched the slightest bit when the twin that was still awake tugged at his beard, however before he could put them beside their sibling-

“Da..da.” His precious little dark haired baby cooed, drooling with quite possibly the sweetest smile the young father had ever seen plastered on their little chubby face.

The elder’s bright eyes somewhat widened as he gazed at the baby, that proud smile impossibly growing wider. Their first words..Oh he was so proud. Right then and there he felt like he was going to explode from joy, a very strange and foreign feeling for him to experience.

Once he finally put his baby to sleep and was able to go back to your sleeping form he unfortunately was whipped with the crippling reality..one day he was going to have to raise that sweet little child to be a soldier.

Nick:

There wasn’t much he loved more than spending time with his new family, especially times like this where his miracle of a baby was propped up on his lap- the upper part of their body resting against the dark hickory style wood of his desk as the detective aimlessly tried to sort out files.

Just when he was about to hand his little one back to you, suddenly they whined, grabbing onto the tan ragged lapels of his trenchcoat.

“Daddy!” They shrieked, pulling with what little strength they could muster to try to climb back in their father’s embrace. At first he was shocked, his golden eyes flickering before he flashed a toothy smile, happily pulling his little one back to him before leaning back in his swivel chair so they could finally be happy and rest against their father’s chest.

Old Longfellow:

Look, making long story short, he cried. Like, full on tears of joy. He wasn’t an emotional one and if he was ever asked just why he had such a strong response, he’d completely blame it upon his newfound sobriety but..when his “miracle” of a baby stood up in his lap- looking him dead on with their kind, innocent eyes, just to smile and plainly say

“Daggy..”

Oh god he couldn’t help it. Even if they were off by a little bit, he knew what they were saying and the words were good enough to send him into a fit of happy tears.

Preston:

It was early, far too early for you to be awake, but that didn’t stop your precious little one. Luckily Preston was always a morning person, finding a way to expertly sneak around the creaky floorboards of your home to reach his baby somehow before they managed to let out a peep.

Call it a father’s intuition.

This had become such a running thing that it was just routine by now, every morning starting with him grabbing his own little “mini me”, placing them on his hip and singing along to a song or two as he gathered breakfast.

However unlike most mornings, this time the little child greeted their father with a big toothless grin- making cute “grabby hands” for him as they squealed

“Papa!”

He felt like he was struck with lightening, his own smile taking over his face as he practically leaped to pick them up. Twirling them around when he scooped their little body up.

He couldn’t wait to tell you.

Sturges:

It had been a long day of repairs for him, like always. No matte what though, he was the happiest he had been in his entire life. Holed up in your little humble home in sanctuary with you lounging out next to him, life couldn’t be any sweeter.

That is until your newly able to walk child walked towards the two of you, a glimmering piece of metal that upon further inspection would be travels to be a small socket wrench in their hand. With a cute, proud grin on their face- they’d unsteadily toddle towards their father, placing the object on his lap.

“Papa!” Their sweet little voice chirped, causing a look of pure shock to overwhelm the previously resting man.

Grinning ear to ear, the synth man would practically rip his utility gloves off so he could grab his little one by their tiny waist, hoisting them up and above his head. He’d proceed to make little “vertibird” like noises as he gently swayed them, causing them to turn into a messy of squirmy giggles. If anyone asked him what his heaven would’ve been, it would be this. This one particular moment.

X6-88:

Falling in love with you in the first place was already a scary experience for him. Finding out that somehow he managed to get you pregnant months later, that was reality shattering. He loved it though. More so, he loved his little child- their birth making him feel so human like, but in the best of ways. However he was once again put into that state of wondrous, exciting fear when his little curly headed toddler grabbed his coat- affectively grabbing his attention so he would be met eye to eye with their similar icy gaze.

“Daddy..?” Their sweet little voice called to him, looking up in such a way that made his heart physically twinge. However, before he even knew what he was doing, he knelt down, adjusted them onto his hip before kissing their nose.

He...he could get used to this.

#fallout #fallout 4 #paladin danse #fo4 companions #fallout companions #danse #elder maxson #porter gage #arthur maxson #deacon #hancock #macready #nick valentine #sturges

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huihuiheart · 4 years ago

Text

Goretober D17: Trapped - Yandere! Jimin

Pairing: Yandere! Jimin x Gender Neutral Reader - You’re engaged

Warnings: Yandere themes, blood, degradation, injury, aggression, mildly suggestive themes, violence, passing out.

Word Count: 1,674

You should have known he’d be too good to be true. Your fiancé had been perfect up to this point, so perfect that it almost came off that he was hiding something about himself. You’d had no proof though, besides the nagging feeling in your gut and the bit of jealousy that would flare up on Jimin’s end whenever you two went out someplace where other’s eyes would devour your form. You didn’t think too much of that though considering you sometimes found Jimin doubting his appearance and needing reassurance. Simply assuming his jealous moments had to do with that rearing it’s ugly head again. At least you dismissed it as such until any more evidence of his dark side would appear.

The time for that came when Jimin had planned a get away for the two of you to celebrate your recent engagement. It didn’t take much for him to convince you, or rather, guilt trip you into agreeing. Complaining over the fact that you were always at work and never with him anymore. That some time alone in a cozy cabin in the woods would be a perfect thing for you two, spending time together away from all the distractions. Spending cold nights cuddled up together by the fire, some nights entirely innocent, others leading to less innocent means of warmth. You admitted the fact that it was very appealing and easily agreed, even giving in to Jimin’s pleas to pack for you, so you could relax more leading up to the trip.

The first red flag showing up when you arrived and a lot of your photos from home were already hung up decorating the walls, under the pretense of what Jimin called making the place homey. The next warning sign was the way he’d packed for you, all the items that made you feel most comfortable staying in and then all his favorites on you, which was never anything that showed too much off. The largest red flag you noticed that day though, was the security. Jimin said it was because of the bears. Of course that would explain why the windows were barred and security cameras watching every entrance way from the inside as well as outside. Yet still you gave Jimin the benefit of the doubt, after all he simply booked the place, right? Little did you know he’d had it built, planning up to this very moment. Special for you and him, so he’d never have to worry about anyone stealing you away.

“Angel I have an idea.” Jimin called from the kitchen on what was went to be the last day the first week of your get away, things going smoothly so far and easing a lot of you initial concerns about the situation.

“Yeah? And what’s that? An activity for us to do?” You question looking up from your book as he walking in again, a bright smile filling his face.

“Of sorts yeah. “ Jimin nods and you raise a brow waiting for him to continue, “We should elope here! I can literally call some to do it and we can take the pictures out back, it’d be beautiful don’t you think?”

“Min love, as amazing as that would be. We have outfits back home and everyone is waiting for a big event and so on.” You sigh softly putting your book down as he pouts at you, even as he crawls into your opened arms.

“I know angel, but it’s still a year away. I don’t want to wait that long. I want you to be mine already.” Jimin’s cheeks puff as he gives a little agitated huff.

“I am yours love, even if we aren’t married yet.” You assure him as he lays against your chest, fingers running through his hair. Jimin practically purring in contentment, pleased with what you said and the affections you’re giving him.

Perhaps it was moments like those that kept you from seeing the dark side of him, the side hidden even still when he “convinced” you to extend the two week get away a third week. The side you refused to believe when he handed you a note from your boss saying you were suddenly fired without explanation and that you should just live in this lone little cabin in the woods. The one that seemed more like a cozy prison than a little wooded sanctuary that one would retreat to. For three months you just ignored the lingering dark side Jimin had, until he returned home from work one day as a family member drove up. From inside you could hear and see the screams until Jimin snapped and punched them, sending the terrified person rushing home. Even when you asked about it he only brushed you off saying you were delusional and nothing was wrong, he’d never hurt anyone. Lying straight to your face as his knuckles bruised up from the punch he threw. Over the next month things started disappearing, any means of communication. Your cabin didn’t even have a mailbox for you to send or receive letters from. Jimin denying any knowledge about any of your devices or access to the outside going missing. Yet, he still brought you new books, art supplies, gardening stuff, anything to keep you occupied while he was off working. Things were alright like that too. For another month anyways, until you lost your mind alone in the silence all day just for Jimin to come home and act like this was how normal life was supposed to be like. Acting like he was completely justified in shutting you off from your old home, life, and anyone other than him.

Eventually you couldn’t take it any longer and decided that you had to get out, even if just to get to the city for a day. Though you knew it was more than likely you’d go to the home of some friend or family member and stay with them until you decided what you wanted to do. So an hour after Jimin left for work, just to be safe in case he ended up coming back you decided to slip out the back door. The one he left unlocked in case you wanted to go into the fenced yard he had for you and garden or sniff the flowers or anything. You knew the fence was electric, but had seen Jimin work on it before, going to the box, you switched it off, pulling some wire just to be safe. Before climbing over the fence, if Jimin looked over the tapes of your escape and managed to find you, you knew for a certainty you’d be more than screwed. So far things were going smoothly though, now you just had to climb the fence and find a way to the city, which you had a feeling would be a rather long walk. Your walk didn’t last long though as a sudden sharp pain clamped down on your leg only 20 minutes into your journey, wet smearing and dripping along where the pain sprouted from a shrill scream leaving your lips to echo through the forest. Looking down through glassy eyes you notice a bear trap, latched around your lower leg, it having been hidden among the leaves. You lean back against a nearby tree slowly working you way to sit and trying to will away tears despite the pain, so you could read the directions engraved on the trap about opening it. It’s no use though as blood quickly stains your jeans and tears stream down your face, the loss of blood making you light headed until you fall to the side unconscious. When you regain consciousness it’s to the dim light remaining from the sunset. Jimin sitting across from you leaning against another tree, looking like he’s barely giving you any mind. Only looking up at you when he hears a pained groan.

“Well....welcome back angel. You manage to learn anything besides how to disappoint me?” Jimin’s question is sharp, in hopes of stinging at your emotions. You can’t seem to care about that with the throbbing in your leg though, the blood having dried by this point and making it even more difficult to move. Fresh tears stream down your face as you look at Jimin.

“P-Please Minnie. I-I didn’t mean it. I-I just missed seeing the city is all. I-I was going to come back I swear.” You try to convince him and Jimin only shushes you softly, moving to stroke over your hair and gently wipe away tears.

“I told you the world was a dangerous place angel. Especially far too dangerous for you.” Jimin’s voice has softened, but something about it still puts you on edge.

“I-I’m sorry Minnie, love. I-I didn’t realize how dangerous. I-I didn’t know there were traps out here.” You tense up when Jimin gives a dark chuckle at your words. Him sitting you against the tree again instead of comforting you any longer.

“Oh angel....the traps aren’t the danger. It’s what the traps are out here for.” Jimin tsks softly in disappointment, before examining your leg in the trap, “ After all...who do you think set them?”

You heart stops for a moment at his words, it made perfect logical sense. There was no one else out here and these weren’t old traps, it could only have been Jimin who had set them up. You’re jarred back to reality though as Jimin yanks open the trap and frees your leg.

“Here’s the deal though angel. It seems you’ve misbehaved and still not entirely learned.” Jimin runs a hand through his hair sighing softly, before standing and offering you no assistance.

“So the only way you’ll be sleeping in a warm home tonight is if you can get yourself there on your own. I’ll be waiting for you if you make it. Otherwise...you better be prepared to rough it out here tonight with what those traps were really intended for and I’ll come get you in the morning.”

#goretober #yandere jimin #yandere bts #bts #jimin #bts oneshot #jimin oneshot

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walkerwords · 4 years ago

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“Not Alone Anymore” Part 1 of 2 - Aaron & Sister!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: Gene Page/AMC

Request from @thanossexual: Hi, can you please write something about Y/n looking for her brother Aaron and after Sooooo many years that passed since the outbreak she never gave up, she meets Jesus in the woods and he helps her (he doesn't know that its Aaron) and then she finally finds him and they have a happy reunion. She meets Gracie and just lots of fluff

Word Count: 3894

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Brother” by NEEDTOBREATHE ft. Gavin DeGraw

Note: This is going to be a 2 part story! Maybe three, but two for sure! I have a fun idea for the next part, but I wanted to get this up cause I promised I would! Thank you for the request!

-------

The air tasted stale on your tongue.

It had been two days since you had eaten and one since your last drink of water. The last time you had found a stream, it was packed with water-logged Dead as they struggled to get out of the water and back to lumbering on land. The Virginian landscape stretched out before you as you walked along the grassy slope. A decade ago, these overgrown fields of nothingness looked very different and they didn’t feel as empty as they did right now.

The sun beat down the back of your neck with a ferocity you had gotten used to over the years since the Turn. In the new world, nothing was safe; nothing was certain; everything took something from you.

You had considered looking for a place to hold up. Maybe somewhere near the water or high up in an old building, but nothing ever fit. At times, you felt like Alice in the room with all the doors and no matter what you did, the key never fit.

The shaded tree line beckoned you ahead and you hoped to find some relief from the sun after walking for hours. Your feet dragged along the dead grass as you pushed yourself towards the shade. Eventually, the trees were surrounding you as your dehydrated mind struggled to stay focused.

"Look for high ground, find water, find shelter," you said to yourself. Looking for the sun through the canopy, you found North easily enough and began your hike in hopes of finding a stream. However, it seemed the world had other plans for you.

The Dead came out of nowhere.

Their sun-baked flesh crackled as they staggered toward you, reaching out with their bony hands. Drawing your knife from its sheath, you steeled yourself for the attack. The first one fell towards you and you managed to stab it in its skull before it could grab onto your jacket. The creature fell to the ground with a crunch.

Two more came after you as you backed up, trying to gain perspective. You were tired, hungry, and a bit disoriented, but you did what you always did: fought to survive.

Just as you went for the Biter on the left, your feet were knocked out from under you. You shouted in alarm as desiccated hands pulled you to the forest floor. You kicked out at the groaning assailant, but you were getting weaker by the minute and the fall hadn't helped.

You struggled as the Dead above you, fell to their knees, and tried to grab hold of your flailing arms and legs. You managed to kick one in the jaw, but it barely slowed down. As hands gripped your calf, you allowed yourself to scream as you awaited the pain, but then a rhythmic sound reached your ears.

Horse hooves pounded the ground as a man on horseback came barreling through the trees. From his hand flew a blade that lodged itself into the Biter that had your leg. Two more knives followed as the others were taken out.

Collapsing on your back, you had no fight left in you. If this man was an enemy, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Boots touched down to your left as he approached. The man crouched over you and as you peered up at him, you were taken aback by his eyes. They were the most beautiful shade of blue you had ever seen. He was tall with his hair pulled back and he wore gloves and a leather duster. With the sun lighting him from behind, he didn't look real.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, checking over your body.

"No," you croaked, sitting up.

"Here," he said, offering you his canteen. You didn't hesitate at the sight of it. You took two large gulps from it before giving it back. You swiped at your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Thank you," you rasped. He smiled gently at you.

"You looked like you could use some help," he said, his eyes glinting in the light. "I'm Jesus," he introduced.

"(Y/N)," you said before the black spots returned to your vision. "I can't...I can't see," you muttered as dizziness took over.

"(Y/N)?" You heard Jesus call, but he seemed too far away. Your adrenaline was fading and you tried to keep your eyes open, but everything was fading too fast. You reached a hand towards the stranger, but it fell at your side as you collapsed back onto the dying earth before succumbing to the darkness that eagerly awaited.

Jesus stared down at you and made a quick decision. You needed help and while he knew Michonne would have his head, Alexandria was closer.

Hiking you up into his arms, Jesus got you on the horse, draping you across the saddle before swinging his leg over as well. Once he was settled, he maneuvered you so she sat in front of him and he took the reigns, snapping them quickly and tapping his heels against the horse's side.

With a quick pull, Jesus rode towards Alexandria, hoping that you would make it. He didn't know what it was, but something was familiar about you and he knew he couldn't leave you behind.

He rode hard through the woods, keeping a tight grip on you as he tried not to jostle you too much. He could hear your labored breathing and occasionally, you would move as if you were trying to fight the fatigue that weighed on you. It didn’t take long for the walls of Alexandria to come into view. Jesus whistled as he approached, gaining the attention of whoever was on watch. Luckily, it wasn’t their head of security.

Gabriel appeared at the top of the wall, looking down at the new arrival. “She needs food and water, please Gabriel,” Jesus pleaded. “I won’t leave her side and I take full responsibility for anything.” Gabriel hesitated, but only for a moment. He disappeared off the watch post and Jesus was worried, he would be turned away after all. He knew Michonne had rules about bringing in outsiders. He hadn’t gotten the full story, but from what Aaron had told him about Jocelyn, Michonne was right to be cautious. However, that didn’t mean he still didn’t have faith in what Alexandria once stood for.

Jesus steadied his horse as the main gate finally rolled open. Gabriel ushered him inside and locked up behind them. “We need to get her to Siddiq,” Gabriel said as he helped Jesus get you down from the horse.

“Her name’s (Y/N),” he explained. “Found her getting attacked by Walkers not too far from here. I don’t think she’s had anything to eat for a while.”

“Was she alone?” Gabriel asked as Jesus heaved you up into his arms bridal style.

“I didn’t see anyone else and she didn’t seem to be looking for anyone before she fainted,” he explained.

“I’ll have Laura and Scott be on the lookout just to be sure,” Gabriel said.

“I’m sorry,” Jesus said, “I know you don’t take in strangers, but Hilltop was too far and I think she hit her head.”

“It’s fine, Jesus,” Gabriel said, “I know what Michonne thinks, but I’m not Michonne.” Gabriel led him to the infirmary. The three of you got strange looks as you moved through the community and it was only a matter of time before word got back to Michonne. Jesus only hoped the resident doctor could fix you up before his Katana-wielding friend kicked you out.

“Aren’t you going to ask why I was heading here?” Jesus asked as Gabriel opened the door for him.

“Jesus, if you think some people haven’t figured it out yet, then you and Aaron a lot denser than I first thought,” Gabriel said with a sly smile.

“Fair enough, Father,” Jesus said as he followed the other man towards Siddiq’s main set up.

As soon as Jesus brought you into the infirmary, Siddiq was moving to clear a bed for you. “What happened?” Siddiq asked, not even caring to ask who you were. It didn’t matter to him right now.

“Severe dehydration, lack of food, and I think she hit her head,” Jesus explained, laying you down on the bed. “I already checked for bites when I saw the Walkers attacking her, she’s clean.” Siddiq nodded as he took out his penlight and shone it in your eyes, gently lifting your eyelids. He felt around the back of your head for any bumps or bruising, but was satisfied to not find any.

Gabriel had taken a few steps back to give the doctor room to work, but Jesus made sure to keep close. It helped when you slowly gained consciousness. Your eyes fluttered open and the first face you saw was the man who had saved you. Your hand blindly searched for him and Jesus was there, adding pressure to your sunburnt skin. “You’re okay, (Y/N),” he assured you. “You’re in a safe place and a doctor is taking a look at you.”

Looking around, you noticed you were in a room in some kind of house. Large windows brought in sunlight and the bed you lay on was the most comfortable thing you had felt since early on in the apocalypse. You let go of Jesus’ hand and tried to sit up. Another pair of hands, the doctor’s you realized, assisted you, placing a pillow behind your back. “What happened?” you asked, trying to get your bearings.

“You passed out after I saved you,” Jesus told you, “I took you here to get help.” You nodded, letting all the information sink in. You knew there were places out there that offered sanctuary to travelers, but you hadn’t felt comfortable enough to seek one out. The words from someone you knew years before ran through your head as you remembered them asking to go with them to “build a new world”. You had been too concerned with looking for your family that you hadn’t taken their hand, but perhaps you wouldn’t be in this situation if you had.

“My name is Siddiq,” the doctor said, “and that is Father Gabriel,” he said, gesturing to the man with the clerical collar that stood on the far wall. Still a bit out of it, you let out a small laugh.

“A doctor, a priest, and a guy named Jesus walk into a bar…” you joked and Siddiq laughed too.

“She had jokes,” Siddiq said with a smile. “Hard to find that these days.” Jesus nodded in agreement. “What’s your name?” he asked you.

“(Y/N),” you said, rubbing at your face. Siddiq then offered you a glass of water that he poured from the pot by the bed.

“Drink, (Y/N),” he said, “we’ll get you some food once your body is more hydrated.” You took the glass from him and drank half of it in one go. “You don’t seem to be injured so one we get you back on your feet with some more water and food, you should be good to go,” Siddiq said reassuringly.

“Yes, I believe that would be for the best,” a new voice said. You all looked over to the doorway to see a beautiful and tall woman. Her dark skin glowed in the sunlight, but her eyes were hard as they stared at you. When you noticed the sword strapped to her back, you inched behind Jesus, reaching for his coat. Siddiq squeezed your arm carefully. “What is this?” she asked.

“Michonne,” Jesus began.

“Don’t,” she warned. “I’ll talk to you later, Jesus.”

“She just needed water and food,” Father Gabriel said to her. “I saw no harm in helping her, Michonne.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Michonne said, approaching you. Jesus stepped away from the bed, giving the woman some room. Your hand fell away from his coat as you looked up at the warrior. “Who are you?” she ordered.

“No one,” you said honestly. “I didn’t even know there was a community nearby. I was on my way to the city and I got attacked. Jesus saved me.” Michonne glanced at the aforementioned man quickly before returning her attention to you.

“Where are you people?” she asked.

“I don’t have any. Not anymore,” you said. “We got separated months ago in the blizzard and I don’t think any of them survived.”

“But you did?” she asked, her tone accusatory.

“Barely,” you said, “it hasn’t been easy being on my own.”

“What do you want?”

“Nothing! I didn’t even know he was taking me here until I woke up moments ago. I’m not here to hurt anyone!” Michonne was quiet for a moment as she thought.

“I want her gone,” Michonne said. “Blindfold her and take her someplace where she can’t find her way back.”

“Michonne, please,” Siddiq said, “she needs rest, she can’t go out there like this.”

“That is not our problem, Siddiq. We have rules for a reason!”

“No, you have rules, Michonne,” he snapped back. “I never agreed to them.”

“Then you don’t need to stay here, do you?” she returned with a glare.

“Enough!” Gabriel said. “I know we all different opinions on how to handle outsiders, but turning on each other is not the way to handle it.”

“I made myself very clear, Gabriel,” Michonne said. Gabriel went to argue again, but footsteps echoed through the room as someone else entered, ready to diffuse the situation.

“We have a council for a reason, Michonne,” the new person said and the voice rolled through you like a wave. You couldn’t see them from your position behind Jesus and Michonne, but you knew that voice.

“Not now, Aaron,” Michonne said and that’s when it hit you all at once.

Aaron.

“Aaron?” you said, his name feeling foreign on your tongue. Slowly, a tall man with a beard and curly hair came around the corner and he froze. Nobody spoke, but the others kept looking between the two of you confused. Aaron stared at you as if he was seeing a ghost.

“Oh my god,” he gasped as he finally snapped out of his surprise. He ignored Michonne and the others as he walked forward, stopping at your bedside. Hesitantly he reached out his right hand to you. You noticed his left was now a prosthetic, but that wasn’t the only thing different about your big brother.

He seemed harder and his eyes looked almost ancient. As soon as his fingertips met your skin, you collapsed towards him. He grabbed you in a hug immediately, clutching you to him. “Oh god!” he cried, pressing kisses to the top of your head. “(Y/N),” he said as you held onto him, trying not to cry. He pulled back, searching your face. “You’re so big,” he said.

“Last time you saw me I was fifteen, so yeah, that tends to happen, brother,” you said and at your words, Jesus’ mouth fell open.

“Your Aaron’s sister?” he asked and Aaron jumped as if he just realized Jesus was there. “The one who lived in Massachusetts?” You nodded, surprised he knew that bit of information.

“She stayed with my mom after the divorce,” Aaron explained and then looked back at you. “How are you here? I thought you were dead.”

“Jesus found me, he saved me. I’ve been heading South since everything happened,” you explained, unable to keep any distance between you and your brother. You held onto his hand, examining all the scars that marked it.

“You found her?” Aaron asked Jesus who just nodded. Aaron reached out his left arm to Jesus and the latter walked into the embrace. “Thank you, Paul,” Aaron whispered, leaning his head on the other man’s chest. “Thank you.” Watching them, it wasn’t difficult to see that Aaron had a connection with your Savior. Jesus pulled back and gripped Aaron by the back of the neck, looking at him with something that looked a lot like love to you, but you kept your observation to yourself. Aaron then seemed to realize the confusion in the room. “This is my baby sister,” he explained to the others. “God, I never thought I would see her again.”

“Aaron,” Michonne began softer this time.

“I know the rules…” he said, but Michonne was shaking her head.

“Rules don’t matter when it comes to family,” she said and the look in her eyes told you that she had lost people, someone perhaps she was still hoping to see again. Michonne carefully approached you. “I’m sorry.”

“You have to be careful,” you said, “I understand.” Michonne nodded and then stepped away as Siddiq broke the tension again.

“(Y/N) needs her rest,” he said. “I’m gonna keep her in the infirmary tonight so I can keep an eye on her.” The others nodded and Gabriel moved to leave and so did Michonne, but not before pausing by Aaron’s side.

“I’ll take your guard shift and let the others know what happened,” she said.

“Thank you, Michonne,” he said and Michonne gripped his shoulder before following Gabriel out of the room. Jesus stopped by the doorway and looked back.

“I’m gonna be around for a bit, Aaron,” he said, “if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Aaron said, “I’ll come to find you in a bit.”

“I can watch Gracie for you,” he offered, “She and I have some catching up to do anyway.”

“That would be great, Paul,” Aaron said gratefully. “Thank you.” Jesus smiled and then sent a wink your way before exiting the infirmary.

“I’ll let you two catch up,” Siddiq said, placing more water on the bedside. “Make sure she drinks, Aaron. We’ll try food in a bit.”

“Thanks, Doc,” you said, grabbing the water glass again. He nodded to the both of you before leaving as well. Finally, alone, you reached for him again and Aaron took you in his arms. “I can’t believe I found you,” you said into his chest.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I should have come for you, but I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t even know where you were.”

“Don’t do that,” you said, leaning back so you could look him in the eyes. “Do not blame yourself. I’m okay, Aaron. I survived, we both did. It took a long time to get to you, but I’m here now.” Aaron nodded, blinking back the tears as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I have so much to tell you,” he said.

“Me too,” you said with a weak laugh. “Though I have a feeling your stories are much more interesting than mine,” you said, tapping the metal arm. He scrunched his nose and lifted his prosthetic to his face.

“Pretty cool, right? A couple of the blacksmiths at Hilltop made it,” Aaron explained.

“Hilltop?”

“The community where Jesus is from,” he said.

“There’s another community?” you asked, surprised.

“Four in all. We’re in Alexandria, then there’s Hilltop, Oceanside, and the Kingdom. I’ll take you to them sometime soon. Introduce you to my new family. Though, we may have to go a little deeper into the wilderness to find one of my best friends. He’s not really a sociable person right now.”

“And yet he’s your best friend?” you asked, smiling.

“He’s...Daryl’s odd, but we love him.” You smirked as you drank more water, relishing in the feel of it cooling your throat.

“Who’s Gracie?” you asked after Aaron filled your glass again.

“My daughter,” he said and you nearly dropped the drink in your hand.

“Daughter?”

“You’re an aunt, (Y/N),” he said with a beaming smile. “I can’t wait for you to meet her, she’s everything and more.”

“How old is she?” you asked, trying to imagine your brother with a kid.

“Six,” he said, “almost seven and a total dream of a kid. I couldn’t have asked for better.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet her too. If she’s anything like her daddy, I’m sure I’ll love her.” Aaron and you spent the new couple of hours, reminiscing about life before the Turn and what happened afterward. You told him how you tried to get to Virginia after the first outbreak, but got caught up in a group of people wanting to head West. Eventually, you had gotten away from them, but were on your own for months after until you found another group and stuck with them for at least a year. “I never really fit anywhere, you know? Couldn’t find my people. Though, it looks like you did.”

“Yeah,” Aaron said as he lay next to you, staring up at the ceiling. “It wasn’t easy, but we’ve all become more than family. Everything we’ve been through…” he trailed off, his hand fiddling with one of the straps on his left arm.

“Mom died at the beginning,” you explained softly. Aaron nodded.

“I figured,” he sighed, “I don’t know what happened to Dad, but he was sick the last time I spoke to him.”

“I know, he called me and told me about the cancer,” you said, “I just hope he’s not out there roaming around, you know?”

“Stubborn man like him? Probably went out with a bang, (Y/N),” he joked. You both were quiet for a moment before you asked what had been on your mind since you woke up.

“Am I safe here?” you asked. Aaron turned on his side, pushing the hair from your face.

“Yes, I promise. Tomorrow, I will take you out of this room and show you everything this place is. We fought hard to keep Alexandria, and now it’s home.”

“Okay,” you said, stretching your hands out in front of you. “I still trust you, always will.”

“Good,” Aaron said and then grabbed your arm suddenly causing you to jump. He turned your right arm over and exposed a large scar that ran from your elbow to your shoulder. “What happened?”

“Ran into a herd about six or so years ago” you explained. “Fell down a short hill and got my arm all shredded by some razor wire.” Aaron cringed at the thought.

“How’d you get away?”

“Some guys actually hauled my ass through the woods and saved me,” you explained. “Weird guy, but he was strong and he protected me until I could handle things on my own again. Never saw him again, but I owe him a lot.” Shrugging, you pulled down the sleeve of your shirt. “What about your arm?”

“Lumber accident,” Aaron revealed and you laughed.

“You’re serious?” you asked.

“It’s true, we were building a bridge and Walkers snuck up on us and some idiot let go of the rope that was holding the logs and it crushed my arm. Luckily, Hilltop has a badass field medic and she fixed me up good.”

“She still around?”

“Yeah, still at Hilltop.”

“Remind me to thank her when I visit,” you said as you curled into your brother’s side, closing your eyes. “What happened to you, Aaron? What haunts you?” Aaron pulled you closer, leaning his head on yours.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, kid,” he whispered.

“Don’t call me kid,” you mumbled and as you fell asleep, finally feeling safe, but not because of Alexandria, but because you finally found him. You finally found your family.

PART II

TAGS: @thanossexual @felicisimor @yes-sir-hotchner

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symphonicmetal101 · 4 years ago

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Wishlist For Someone Special

Ok, so I'm feeling really sappy and just a little lonely. All my friends are boring and my family members are too young for me to take to do some stuff.

This is kind of a wishlist of things I wish I had someone to do with or look forward to doing eventually...not necessarily romantic, but I wouldn't mind if it was. (broskis, I ain't never been on a date, not even, like, a platonic one, so bear with me if it seems ridiculous)

Stargazing- lying on a blanket in an open field or in the bed of a truck, just watching the stars, pointing out constellations, and making up stories

Watching the Northern Lights- bundling up in our warmest winter clothing, grabbing a couple campchairs and hot chocolate as we watch them dance and flicker.

Laser Tag- sneaking around, just trying to one up each other, or being on the same team and still- try to one up each other😂

Paintball- a little more painful than laser tag, but still fun. Checking up on each other afterwards to make sure there aren't any really bad bruises

Graffiti- I've always liked the way it looks. I would love for someone to teach me, or for us to learn together in one of those public graffiti houses

A Willow Tree- I would love to find a weeping willow tree and climb it's branches, only to sit and read there with my loved one enjoying their company.

Just Drive- just take a roadtrip with someone I love, blasting music, laughing, singing, and snacking as we blaze down the roads. It doesn't have to be long.

Visit an Animal Sanctuary/Reserve- I find animals fascinating, but also find that sanctuaries and reserves are more educational and often more humane than zoos.

Volunteer at the Food Bank or SPCA- just general acts of service. They make me happy.

Pillow Fortress- I didn't really get to make blanket forts when I was younger, so I want to try doing something even bigger! I want to convert the couch into a cuddle palace.

Spontaneous Dancing- idk man, it just makes me really happy. My dad used to twirl and dip me when I was little, so that's probably where it started.

Cooking/Baking Together- so what if we make a bit of a mess? So what if we screw up the recipe? It doesn't matter, it was time well spent.

Cleaning Together- Growing up as an only child for ten years and then becoming the oldest means I've done chores alone for a long time. I want someone's company, maybe we'll talk, maybe we'll work in comfortable silence, or maybe we'll blast music. I don't care. I would be happy just to know I wasn't alone.

Learning One of Their Hobbies- I want to learn something they know!! Please, let me understand a little better, I just need them to be patient with me.

Forest Walks- especially in Fall. I want to walk down an old trail, listen to leaves crunch under our feet as more fall from above I want the blustery weather to give us rosy cheeks and noses by the time our walk is over.

Horseback Riding- I've done it before, but I would love to bring someone with me. You have more experience? Great! I love to see that confidence in you. You've done it a couple times? Yay, we're in the same boat! Never done it at all? That's ok! I'll do what I can to help you!

Outdoor Movie Night- we don't have drive- in theaters anywhere nearby, but give me a sheet, campchairs, and a projector? I've got us.

Indoor Movie Night- let's bundle up and cuddle together while we watch a new movie. Or maybe it's a classic. Idc.

Try New Food- let's go somewhere for lunch and pick something completely foreign...(I am not eating guinea pig again though, thanks.)

The Wharf- if one of us happens to live by the ocean, we'll be frequent visitors. Not necessarily the beach, bit on wooden planks where the salty sea air still reaches you. We can watch the boats come and go. (Fisherman's Wharf in B.C Canada is fun. There's a really good Mexican food place😂 There's a blind seal named Sammy that lives there, and you can buy a bucket of fish to feed him. Be careful though, seagulls are vicious, being pecked by one sucks...yes, I needed a bandaid and my finger was sore for a long time. Idk if it's still like that, it's been a while. Sorry, just reminiscing a bit.)

Painting- let's buy a couple canvases and paint and see what we can do! It doesn't have to resemble anything, just do what feels like you.

Splatter Painting- dear god I've wanted to try this for so long. Just full on globs of paint and flicking it towards the canvas. (I was never allowed to do it because it was seen as a waste of paint. I couldn't even do it with an old toothbrush on a small canvas😑)

Video Games!- Please teach me how to play! Video games are banned in my family. I mean, I've done Just Dance, but that's about it. Mobile games have been kept a secret...basically just teach me to play and don't make me feel bad about playing, and I'll love you forever, mkay?

Ice Cream Date- again, idk. The idea just makes me really happy, whether we're sitting in a small shop, eating and talking. Or maybe we're walking, maybe holding hands, trying to point things out to each other, but our hands are full, but there's no way we're letting go. Or maybe we're sharing a cup of ice cream on a park bench, just people watching.

Thrift Store Outfits- I want to go to a thrift store and pick out the most ridiculous outfits for each other. We don't have to go anywhere, but just humour me when we're alone by wearing whatever I found for you, and vice versa.

Writing- writing a poem, a atory, a quote, or learning calligraphy and just writing their name- I want to write something to you

Books- let's go to the library and choose a book for each other, one that neither of us have read so we can talk and ask questions, come up with theories as we continue to read.

Books pt.2- if you write me a note and give me a book telling me why it's one of your favourites, I'll melt. I'll do the same for you, and soon we'll have a few more things to talk about and enjoy together

Music!- you bet your bottom dollar I'm going to send you music that reminds me of you, and I would be overjoyed to recieve the same.

Music! Pt.2- if you happen to play, sing, or dance, let's make something beautiful together! If not, I'll teach you!

Improv/rp- just making stuff up as we go, not caring if other people hear our conversations.

Trampoline Park/Something Similar- I just want to try it. Don't care if I break my leg, I want to try it. I'll care if you break your leg though.

Plant Shopping- again, idk. Just the idea of choosing a succulent or two to take care of together sounds nice.

Dance Classes- maybe you're already an amazing dancer, I'll let you take the lead. Maybe you just know the basics like me, we can learn together. (I know how to do the basics for, like, salsa, cumbia, bachata, swing, and waltz, that's it. Please teach me more🤩)

Sewing/Knitting/Crocheting/Fabric Work- useful skill! And maybe we can make something for each other. (Spoiler alert: you're getting a pillow case, mask, or a scarf, I can't do much yet😂)

Rage House- let's just let loose! Make a mess! Yell! Doesn't matter, all of it's legit. I just want to destroy stuff.

Weird Cuddles- again, just the idea makes me happy. If you're lying down, I may as well just flop on you, right? Or maybe somehow we end up upside down. Cuddling while we read books or listen to music. Ok so maybe just cuddling but it feels weird because I'm touch-starved👌

Late Night Calls- I've never done this with anyone under happy circumstances. Could you help me change that? It would be nice to have the last thing before I go to sleep be reassurance and happiness.

Calendar/Planning- let's make a calendar together with pictures of the places we want to go one day. Let's talk to each other so we know what we both want and make sure we put it down.

Scuba Diving- this is something I've wanted to do since I was little- actually it was the first job I said I wanted. I don't want to do it as a career anymore, but I would love to try it with you.

Finding Random Things- little things that remind me of you. Maybe I was out and found a heart shaped rock. Or I heard a bird sing and managed to record it. Or maybe there was a cute keychain at the store that reminded me of you. And that would be enough to make me smile.

Ride a Double-Decker Bus- I've done it before, but the excitement that comes with the thought of riding one again makes me giddy. Just being able to see the city and people from a mobile throne😂

Bike Riding- let's explore nearby, just riding together. Maybe you have trails you want to show me. You can lead, I'll follow. Or vice versa. If we get lost at least we can laugh about it later.

Camping- lets share a tent and a campfire together, roasting smores as we laugh and tell each other stories. Maybe we'll try and sing a few songs too.

Punch Buggy- just playing the game properly will make me happy tbh. It's been 8 years of bending the rules😂

Board/Card Games- yes. I will get competitive. But that's half the fun. Also, I would like to play these properly as well lol

Museum Date- maybe somewhere local, or maybe we were driving by and decided to stop, or maybe we actually planned to go. Let's learn something new together, take some pictures.

Comfy- I didn't know what else to call it. Basically, take out, sweat pants, (messy buns), snacks, drinks, and a good show. Bonus if it's storming outside.

Rain- watching it rain, listening tonit rain, going outside and dancing or running in the rain, jumping in puddles- I want to do it all with you.

Little Gestures- little things we develop as we get to know each other, faces that we come to understand, hand movements we start to copy. Idk, I find it really cute.

Ok guys, sorry this isn't what, well, any of us were expecting. I guess this is my Valentine's Day post?? Idk. If you read it, I hope you liked it.

Feel free to put who you thought of in tags or comments, real or fiction. Or add to the list if you want. I would love to know😊 I know there's a lot of "I wants" but that's because for the first time, in a long time, I feel comfortable admitting that.

51. Mutual comfort characters

#obey me #obey me shall we date #not really blog related but oh well #valentines day

26 notes · View notes

buckstaposition · 4 years ago

Text

I cling to your lips like gloss (3)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie 👋

tags&warnings: spoilers for season 3, wonky timelines & odd pacing, drinking, swearing, mentions of sex work, mentions of canon-typical violence, Miss Salome is back!, some mild domesticity, partial nudity, a lil’ bit of sexual & romantic tension, soft&protective!Javi today tomorrow and forever

words: 8906 🙃🤡🙃🤡

summary: “The United States government is buying you a dress because you being at that party is of strategic importance to this investigation.”

Author’s note: Thank you SO SO much everyone who read, reblogged, and commented! It means so much to me and I want you to know that I read those comments and reviews at least every other day

Also this chapter was originally going to feature more as I was planning to move into the actual plot of the season, but then it just got longer and longer and I wanted to keep it under 10k words so that has all been moved to the beginning of ch4 instead. Anyway, remember it’s okay to take breaks in between, stay hydrated, and enjoy!

—

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83 @cinewhore @maddoggrahaml

(message me if you want to be added to the list)

beautiful moodboard made by @huliabitch

Masterlist

Prologue • Chapter 1 - The Informant • Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals

Chapter 3 - Swallow Pride and Anger

He made a habit of checking in with Miss Rivas regularly, usually on Wednesday evenings. It was late enough in the week for her to have gathered something to tell him, and for him to need interactions beyond dealing with pissy bureaucrats and the chorus of 'yes boss'es from his agents. That and he made the conscious choice to never bother her on Thursdays, seeing as how often she'd come back from a work day in the double digits, only to rise again with the sun on Friday mornings for her frequent trips back to Medellín.

On this Wednesday, his self-imposed cigarette embargo inside his office combined with a slow and frustrating day had led him to go back to his apartment at an uncharacteristically early hour. He threw his jacket, wallet and keys down on the table, then loosened his tie and grabbed a beer from his fridge. He took a slow pull from the bottle, allowing himself to slump a bit against the kitchen counter. This apartment, while never what he would call a home, was still a sanctuary of sorts, even if most days he only came here to sleep and change clothes. He finished about half the bottle before clicking the bent cap back on haphazardly and placing it back in the fridge. He checked his watch and decided that a shower would, if not make him feel better, at least wash off the stale dryness of the embassy complex's aircon.

His hair still damp, he exited the bathroom about half an hour later. He padded across the floor barefoot, shuffling around the few rooms a bit, pulling on a clean t-shirt and preparing a small meal in the kitchen. He didn't have much except for the usual staples, chosen by how easy they were to prepare and by how effectively they would fill his stomach, rather than for any considerations of taste. The only thing he allowed himself to indulge in was the selection of fresh fruit he picked up at the street market down the road. By the time he'd gotten something in his stomach it was nearing seven. Javier reckoned she would be home by now and would have had enough time to settle in. He grabbed his fruit plate and trudged over to his wall-mounted landline phone. After placing the plate on the low side table, he dialled the satphone's number and waited for the line to connect.

"Agent Peña, good evening!" The sound quality was much better than with those tinny phone cells. It allowed him to hear how pleased she sounded as she greeted him, and how slightly out of breath.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Miss Rivas. I can call back later?" It occurred to him that she might be in the process of making dinner herself.

"Oh no, it's alright!" He heard the shuffling of steps and the hum of music in the background. "Hang on, let me finish on the landline, then I'm all yours." She must have set the satphone down right next to her stereo system. He could hear music more clearly now, still distant like not all of it survived the transmission, but distinct enough to make out a string section paired with electric guitar and words in an unfamiliar language.

"Interesting music selection." He mused as she came back on the line.

"Huh? Oh yes, Angelika let me borrow some of her tapes. Newly historical contraband from behind the Iron Curtain." She laughed quietly, and Javier thought of how for some of his former CIA colleagues, that might have been reason enough to drag her in for an interrogation. He sneered at the notion, glad it was no longer relevant. "Not that I understand anything, but that's why music is called the universal language, I suppose."

"Your German friend." Javier hummed thoughtfully. He'd had to look up what that Stasi remark meant, embarassingly enough. Despite the added information included, he'd been made to change it to 'Calí KBG' in his preliminary report on the matter.

"Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't convince her to help more. It's half the way she was brought up and half fear. I guess the thought of going up against a powerful drug cartel and helping the American government at the same time is just a bit too much. And with her and Julio now trying for a baby she just really doesn't want to risk it, you know?"

"It's okay." Javier said reflexively, allowing himself to sit on the floor by his phone, his back against the wall. Angelika Florez-something-long-and-German-with-lots-of-umlauts that he wasn't even going to attempt to pronounce worked at the Calí phone company and would have been an invaluable asset, but then again she'd already placed herself in danger by allowing Diana to relay what she knew. Javier wasn't going to force anyone to become an informant. "Anything new on your end?"

"New corner office."

"Nice."

"Oh, very." He heard more soft rustling over the line, as if she was moving around, and then some light clicking noises that might have been a large window or door being opened. "Miguel Rodríguez did stop by yesterday. Unannounced, of course. Cut into my lunch break."

Javier straightened, the hand with a piece of orange sinking back down from his lips. "Oh? What did he want?" Unfortunately it was nothing he could be nailed down for. The Rodríguez brothers did own that bank and had every right to be there, every once in a while.

"Wanted to talk about the tax evasion scheme I devised. I swear, there's nothing rich people hate more than paying their taxes!" Her huff made him laugh softly, despite everything. "Nothing of substance to report, sadly."

"We'll get them." Javier promised. "With your help, they'll go down like a bag of rocks in water."

She hummed, tapping her nails against the phone casing absently. He could hear the light click of it over the line. Javier let himself enjoy the reprieve this unassuming silence offered.

"I've been wondering," she started again after a moment, pensive, "how you met Gabriela. Was it when she was still at the brothel or after?"

Actually screw reprieve. Javier felt like all his blood was now rushing to his ears and neck. "Umm..." he said, eloquently. "W-why d'you want to know?" And hadn't the other woman told her that detail, since they apparently shared everything? He had made it until now in forcibly not dwelling on what exactly this 'everything' would entail.

"Sorry no, that came out wrong. I was just wondering if she'd ever been in any way involved in your... work. I'm sorry, this isn't... I just- I worry."

Javier exhaled slowly, thinking back on the night he'd chanced upon the stunning redhead at a bar. He hadn't planned on it becoming a regular thing, and then before he knew it, the sporadic nights he spent with her were the only thing removed from the stress of his job. "No, never."

"Dammit."

That was... not what he'd expected. He frowned a moment before it dawned on him.

"You're worried that by involving her when Maritza asked you for help you put her in danger."

"...Yes." She sounded glum now, not pleased and at ease enough to attempt to joke with him like before. He hated it.

"Hey, it's alright. Nothing happened to her." At least to her. At least one person had come out of that nightmare mostly unscathed. It was something to be grateful for. "They're gone now. Escobar and his men are gone. She's safe."

"Thank you, Agent Peña. I just-" Her voice sounded so small, suddenly. He frowned, plate of fruit long forgotten. "I couldn't bear it if I lost her, too. And while I didn't live in Medellín for all of it I ...you hear things."

Unbidden, his mind flashed to the brothel on 23rd street in Envigado, all the women executed, La Quica putting bullets through their brains because one of them had been brave enough to call the Search Bloc and DEA on him. He thought of Helena. He thought of the dozens more who had the violence in their lives compounded tenfold because they'd dared to defy the narcos' terror. And often enough, through him. Sometimes the guilt ate Javier alive.

"Hang on a moment." He said, already heaving himself up and striding over to the kitchen, grabbing his unfinished beer from the fridge, then doubling back over to the bar and grabbing a glass and a bottle of whiskey. Mixing the two was probably not a good idea. As much as drinking in general. He didn't care right now. Javier tried to be a better man than he had been, but there were times when he slipped.

He poured himself a glass of the liquor as he sat back down and snatched the phone receiver back up from where it swung against the wall.

"I'm back." He announced simply and took a swig.

"I shouldn't have brought it up." She sighed long and drawn. "I'm sorry for... I suppose I just wanted to make myself feel better. That if something had happened to Gabi it wouldn't have been my fault, too. I didn't think- I cannot begin to imagine, Agent Peña-"

"It's alright." Javier said, reflexively. The beer bottle was just one generous sip away from being empty now. His fingers played with the rim of it absently as he stretched his legs out in front of him, the tumbler of whiskey at his side.

"It's not alright." Miss Rivas insisted, sounding even more distraught. He hated that, too.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It is what it is." He scrubbed a palm over his face, rubbing at his burning eyes. The alcohol was beginning to swirl through his bloodstream. It helped, he supposed, that there was a sort of artificial distance through the telephone line. Otherwise the next words would likely never have left his lips.

"Can I tell you something?" Javier Peña wasn't a religious man, but there were times when he saw the sense of a confessional.

"Of course." Her voice was just the slightest bit shaky. "Should I get myself a drink, too?"

"If you want." He threw back the last bit of beer, following it up immediately with a gulp of whiskey, then pressed the still cold bottle against his flushed neck. He hesitated a moment, listening intently to the shuffling and rustling on the other end of the line. He felt his shoulders tighten and draw up, let his head fall back against the wall with a soft 'thud', his fingertips tracing the rim of the glass until he heard her soft affirmative.

This was not a time to let shame hinder him. Hell, the fact that he paid women for sex was the first thing she ever knew about him.

"You should know that I have a kind of... reputation." Javier began slowly. Like she didn't know that already. Like she couldn't guess. Like maybe this illusion where he could make this a confession instead of a confirmation was somehow more dignified.

He'd gotten the idea a few months into coming down here. Or rather the idea had found him in the shape of a lovely, doe-eyed brunette who'd introduced herself as 'Aurélia'. And Javier had been hungry and lonely, his shame at his ruined wedding fresh and the frustration of running after leads into empty corners even fresher. And he doesn't even remember how he ended up inside her room, and while under no illusion that what was about to transpire was merely a business deal, a service rendered and compensated for, he'd found himself talking. Javier wasn't a talker, but she'd been so sweet in the way she carded her slender fingers through his hair and let him ramble on, probably wasting her time.

"That's who you're here for?" Javier remembered still, with such distinct clarity, how her fingers had stuttered against his scalp. Javier had lifted his far-too-heavy head from her comfortable bosom and peered up at her, wondering whether disclosing all this had been a mistake. What kind of idiot walks into a brothel in Medellín half drunk and says he's a cop looking to take down Pablo fucking Escobar plus associates?

"They come here sometimes. Those sicarios I mean." Aurélia had said, resuming her caresses. Sweet girl. Sweet, sad girl who kissed so softly.

"Oh yeah?" Just his luck. "Not tonight though, hopefully." Suddenly he wasn't quite as drunk or tired anymore.

"Not tonight, no. At least not that I know of. Anyway, it's not- I shouldn't tell you this." She'd tilted his head up and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. That girl could kiss like she was in love with you.

That was that. Four days later he'd come back, with a proposal wrung from his superiors. Any information that could lead to the capture of one of the Cartel's sicarios for a generous chunk of solid American cash.

"Aurélia?" Miss Rivas asked in a voice as if she was running calculations. "With curls or with a birthmark?"

"Umm, birthmark." A mole on her left cheek, just under the eye, like a rococo lady in every period piece about the French, except real.

"Oh! Catalina Vasquez!"

"You know her?" Of course she knew her. Apparently Medellín was actually a damn village and not a city of millions.

"Yeah, the family lived just down the street growing up. I used to babysit them sometimes, her and her younger sisters."

Javier hummed, unsure of how to reply. He pinned the receiver between his head and shoulder and shoved the freed hand up under the collar of his shirt to rub at the tension in the back of his neck.

"Sorry for interrupting, do go on."

It had taken some convincing. A whole lot of planning, too. But by the end of it he had one of Gacha's sicarios in custody. A large, brutish man who'd nicknamed himself 'Cobra'. Low-level and not especially bright, as it turned out, but not completely worthless. Javier had gone back to the brothel that night to give Aurélia her reward, and then he'd come back again the night after, when the high of success had worn off and he'd craved being kissed again like it meant something. Only, she'd been gone. Left without a trace, her erstwhile colleagues unwilling to divulge the whats and wheres and whys. Frustrated and anxious and in no small part betrayed, he'd drowned himself in a willing bottle blonde who could do extremely interesting things with her mouth. And that was that, the start of a career and a reputation. Not that he ever expected to be 'serviced' when he was there in a professional capacity. But when they offered, he found himself too weak to refuse. And they almost always offered. For whatever reason.

Professional pride perhaps.

"What happened to her?" It had been years but he had to ask, just on the off chance.

"She took your money and cut loose, moved to the coast and got a job at a baker's. Last thing I heard she was married and had another baby on the way."

"Good. That's ...good." He'd wondered, all these years... "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything."

"For listening. For letting me ...unload." For lifting a bit of guilt and uncertainty off of me. "Just... you don't have to do that. So thank you."

A short rustling, the squeak and groan of a chair, then: "I will listen to whatever you want to tell me, Agent Peña."

Javier released a sigh, deep and weary, and set aside his glass and the bottle that was significantly lighter than it had been. His mind was somewhere in that soupy stage now, floating aimlessly on some sort of thick fog. It dulled the creeping pain in his back that told him he was too old to be sitting on the floor now. He mumbled something indistinct, rubbed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to clear the haze.

"Well, in any case, now you know." He'd only need to tell her about Lorraine, Helena, and Carillo, and he'd have shared all of his major sins. Huh.

"What are you asking for?"

Absolution. "A verdict?"

"I have no intention of judging you, Agent Peña. Not for this. You acquainted yourself with all the working girls in Bogotá and Medellín, and I married a man I did not love and stayed with him for years."

"That's hardly the same."

"Isn't it?" Her voice was soft and rueful, brimming with words not ready to be spoken quite yet. He sensed it, and agreed, and therefore decided that it was time to cut this heart-to-heart off here for both their sakes.

"Hell, I don't know. Maybe, in a way." He was way too drunk for this. He shouldn't have drunk this much. Where had his threshold gone? It's like he'd spent years tempering his liver for nothing.

"Well then, I'll let you know whether or not it'll be worth for you to come down to Medellín next weekend. Sleep well. And drink some water before then."

Javier glanced at the clock mounted on the oppsite wall. When the hell had it gotten this late? No wonder his ass was numb and his back was killing him. There was a moment when the strangest words were just hanging on to the tip of his tongue, ready to plummet off. That it would always be worth it to see her. Even just to take a turn about a park with her and the kid. Javier swallowed thickly. Gathered his professionalism and detachment.

"Until then, Miss Rivas. Good night." --- --- --- The phone rings insistently in a way that tells him it's been at it a while. Javier sighed while sliding the glass door of his office shut behind him. He hadn't planned on being all but ambushed by one of Stechner's CIA stooges under the guise of 'inter-agency liasing', and that was after getting caught up with a lenghty presentation one of his newly transferred agents had prepared for him. Feistl, he'd said his name was. The presentation was full of good ideas, too, just too involved. Javier had told the guy as much. If you can get your point across with ten words there's no point using fifty.

Javier picked up the receiver, one hand rubbing at the dull throbbing that was just starting to build in his temple.

"Peña."

"You're still at your office? It's past eight, you should go home." He smiles despite himself, and the chiding tone.

"Got delayed." He offered by way of an explanation. She harrumphed softly.

"Not that I'm not delighted to hear from you, but what's the occasion?" She rarely called him, he usually called her. She certainly didn't call on Thursday nights because when she wasn't preparing to drive up to Medellín she was usually exhausted enough at this point in the week to turn in early.

"I hope you're sitting down."

Javier perched himself on the edge of his desk where it wasn't piled high with reports and mind-numbing paperwork awaiting his signature. "I am."

"They're having a party and I've been invited. Friday next week. They'll all be there; Santacruz is apparently coming down from New York for it. The chief accountant, the money launderer, everyone. And their wives, or other-"

Javier's foot slipped a bit where he'd foolishly leaned a significant percentage of his weight on it. He caught himself as the desk gave a loud groan, slipping a bit on the linoleum floor. He righted himself quickly, sitting more firmly on the edge of the desk.

"What do you know?"

"Apparently there's going to be some sort of important announcement, but no one knows what it is, not even Miguel. Gilberto called it. All I know is that all four of them will be there, as well as everyone important in the organization. And then some. Likely every politician and law enforcement official in their pocket. Other cartels, too, but I don't know who exactly-"

"Miss Rivas, stop." Javier said firmly. Her voice had gotten that rambling, frantic quality that wore thin its natural pleasant rasp. "That's plenty. This is..." he twisted around and fished for his desk calendar, grabbing the nearest pen to circle the day, "This is huge. It could even be just the break we need."

She was silent for a moment, only her long, deliberate breaths crackling over the line. "You think so?"

"I think regardless of what it is, if it's important enough for a gathering this big, then yes."

"I don't suppose you could raid the party and arrest them all just like that?" She mused.

"Only in my dreams, Miss Rivas." He allowed himself a second to picture it: surroundig what was no doubt a very large and fancy property, riding in like the cavalry, the dumbstruck faces as the Gentlemen of Calí and their associates realized their luck had run out, clapping the handcuffs on them - he'd want to do it himself, hear the gratifying click of metal on metal that would wipe the self-satisfied smirks off their faces.

The warrants for the Calí godfathers existed, that wasn't the problem. The problems started with finding the location, circumventing their no doubt expert security, getting the lot of them without anyone escaping... Then there was the trouble of getting a search warrant for the property, even if they did know the address, and it was going to be a whole lot more complicated if the guy who signed those warrants was at that party himself. Then there was the fact that for all the valuable intel Miss Rivas had provided already, it wasn't nearly enough to nail the godfathers beyond what their army of slippery attorneys could weasel them right back out of. What they really needed was for someone to talk. Someone who had been there for longer and knew the operations of the cartel more intimately than Miss Rivas ever could (or than he would want her to, if Javier was being honest). The mysterious money launderer perhaps, or the chief accountant. Either would be good, both would be better - then again, the immunity deals that usually came with these kinds of cooperations didn't sit too well with Javier.

"Hell, I don't even have a plus one. Do I really have to go? I could pretend to be sick." She sighed and scoffed, and muttered something about not having anything to wear.

"I think you know." And if these people didn't know his face (and would put a bullet through it on sight) he'd gladly offer to be her plus one, if only to keep her safe. He hated knowing she'd be all alone there, among the wolves. It didn't make what he still had to ask of her any easier.

"Yes, I know. Miguel called me the 'third corner of their finance trifecta'." A bitter laugh, not that Javier needed that cue to know. He could tell from her voice alone how much she despised it. "In any case, now you know, so you can make whatever arrangements you need. I'll see you tomorrow?" Ah yes, about that.

"I'm afraid I can't make lunch. Urgent meeting called by the ambassador." Urgent and useless, but when the new president and minister of justice wanted a briefing he had to oblige. "Sorry."

"That's alright. Dinner then? My aunt will be in the hospital overnight."

"I'll see what I can do." There was just one more thing. "Miss Rivas?"

"Yes?"

"Would you be willing to wear a wire? To the party?"

"Well, I was thinking a cocktail dress would be more appropriate-"

Javier scoffed. "You know what I mean." He could picture her grin on the other end of the line, pleased at her little joke.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I suppose I might as well, seeing as I'm not getting out of this-"

"Thank you."

"Best bring the necessary ...equipment with you. I need to go dress shopping this weekend."

He promised that he would. He promised to call as soon as he knew when he'd be in Medellín. And he promised to go home for the day as soon as they said their good-byes.

He intended to do just that; he only needed to file away some things first.

"Boss?" Another one of the new transfers poked his head in after knocking. Why was he still here at this hour? Javier struggled to recall his name.

"Yeah, what is it, uh..." He did feel bad about it, too. A little bit at least.

"Van Ness, sir."

"What is it, Van Ness?"

"Duffy just faxed this over." Van Ness leaned further into Javier's office, holding himself steady on the doorframe, and handed him the flimsy sheet of paper. "They've gotten a lead through Cornerstone."

--- --- ---

Dinner instead turned into an apologetic phonecall during a meeting break and then a red eye flight out to Medellín. Then there's another meeting at the Search Bloc home base with Colombian National Police representatives and the only high point of it is that he briefly sees Hugo Jr who looks well. So by the time Javier finally starts out to Envigado it's lunchtime again. He makes it there just slightly after.

He walked up to the small house, past the flowerbeds on the windowsills, and knocked on the door. That side of the house was south-facing and it was a hot, cloudless day that has him sweating in his suit in no time. He's just about to knock again, thinking perhaps the first time he'd been too soft to be heard so as not to disturb the aunt who must be resting after her overnight stay at the hospital, but then he hears the quick tap of feet and the door is yanked open by an out-of-breath Diana. "Hey."

She was wearing a wide smile and cut-off denim shorts with a simple blue cotton blouse and her hair was loose and much longer than when they'd first met. It seemed like no time at all had passed since then when in reality it had been close to a year now.

"Hi," Javier breathed, "Sorry for the delay."

She waved it off. "Come on in, I saved you a plate." She turned and walked back the short and narrow hallway. Stop gawking at her legs.

"That's not necessary." He tried to deflect, toeing off his shoes near the door and loosening his tie and shirt collar, just the top button.

"Nonsense, unless you've eaten?" She looked over her shoulder before turning into the small kitchen.

"I haven't, no." Javier conceded, following behind. It wasn't exactly spacious, a round table squished to one wall with just enough space for three chairs. Little Salome sat at one, drawing with an array of colorful crayons. She acknowledged him silently before going back to her drawing and Javier sat down.

"Coffee?" Diana asked over the hum of the microwave, already pulling two mugs from a cupboard.

"Please." Javier stretched his legs out as far as he could without becoming a tripping hazard. "How's your aunt?"

"Resting now. She's been better recently, but overall she's been declining so I don't know-" She gave a helpless shrug, then brought over the mugs, shortly followed by the steaming plate which she set in front of him. He'd learned a while ago that even the most minute resistance was futile anyway. Besides, he actually was really rather hungry. Catering wasn't a priority for the CNP.

He waited until she sat down in the chair opposite to start eating. They talked quietly, not exactly smalltalk, but nothing too heavy either. It was strange sort of almost-domesticity if one looked over the fact that he was being snuck in like a teenage delinquent boyfriend whenever the aunt was out or asleep (which was fine by him as he had no desire to meet the woman whose only daughter he'd gotten killed).

"So how does that whole wire situation work in real life?" Diana asked after she'd cleared away the dishes (and physically slapping his hand away when he moved to help).

"Well it's... there's a literal wire, a microphone on one end, and a recording device on the other. And a battery." Javier began haltingly.

"And it needs to be concealed under the clothes, obviously."

"Obviously."

"Hmm, I see. How big?" She sat back down again, brushing a hand through Salome's hair affectionately. "And how do I secure it under the dress? I need to know these things so I can pick out one that'll cover it all, you see."

Javier nodded. "Did you want to leave soon? Because I was thinking it's probably easiest if I just came along."

At this, she seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. "You sure?"

He sipped the last of his now tepid coffee and nodded again. "Yeah, let's go buy you a dress."

"There's no need to buy me a dress, Agent Peña." He recognized that tone by now, how testy she got at any allusion of charity. It was an ingrained reflex that he knew better than to be irked by.

"The United States government is buying you a dress because you being at that party is of strategic importance to this investigation." He stood to put the empty mug in the sink before she could beat him to it, then returned to the table, standing behind the seat he'd previously occupied and gripping the back of it. "Besides, more of American taxpayer money is spent on worse things." Like Stechner's salary, he thought. She gave him a look that said they'd have more words on this, probably when they reached the checkout, then stood, saying she'd go say goodbye to her aunt.

Javier nodded, watching her leave. A little noise caught his attention. Salome still didn't speak much, but she knew how to make herself known nonetheless. "What is it, Miss Salome?" Javier stooped to get closer to eye level with the kid. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes and held up a scrap of the paper she'd been drawing on.

"Oh, what's this?" She shook the paper insistently in her tiny fist, an adorable frown creasing between her brows, as if miffed that he was being slow. And it's... he's gotten more relaxed around the little girl by now, but it still always lingers that he's part of the reason she's an orphan, and traumatised into a selective mutism that apparently even the average counselor or child psychiatrist doesn't quite know how to deal with to boot, that leaves him with a lingering apprehension that manifests in the kind of awkward hesitation that now has her scrambling off the chair and patting his leg as she holds the paper up for him to take.

"Want me to take a look?" He bends and takes it gently. Is answered by a sort of long-suffering sigh. The scrap is barely the size of his palm, covered in colorful blobs of red and orange and yellow and blue, pink and green and purple swirls in between.

"Very pretty." He decrees and attempts to hand it back just as Miss Rivas is poking her head back the room.

"Can you please grab the car seat?"

"Huh?" It's not very eloquent, but then again he's engaged in a game of impromptu reverse tug-of-war with a toddler. "She's coming with?" She's also pushing the paper back at him again, pouting.

"Yes of course she is. The car seat? It's on the shelf behind you." There is no argument to be had with the women in this family, so he doesn't even attempt it, just straightens and looks for the car seat which is indeed in the described spot. "And that drawing is for you so just take it."

"For me?" It's still clutched in his hand, and Salome is heaving a huff as if to say 'Duh. Idiot.' His throat feels tight all of a sudden. "Well, thank you very much." He makes a show of tucking it very carefully into the pocket of his suit jacket, then turns to retrieve the car seat. Together they make their way out. It takes a moment to set up the car seat in the back, another to wrestle the stroller into the trunk, but eventually they're on their way downtown.

--- --- ---

They have entered a world of ruffles. And sequins. For a moment Javier thinks he's having flashbacks to Lorraine's endless sessions discussing bridesmaid's dresses all those years ago. He exchanges a look with Miss Rivas, her expression stony and tense.

"Alright, quick in and out. If at all possible, I want to be out of here again before Salome wakes up." Javier nodded, tightening his grip on the stroller handles. Salome had dozed off in the car on the drive over and was now out cold, not even stirring throughout the transferral from car seat to stroller. Javier eyed the sea of satins and gulped, then turned to the woman at his side. "What's your plan?"

"I'm going to find a shop assistant." She narrowed her eyes, gaze flitting over the masses of racks.

"Good plan." Javier mumbled. He had an inkling that they'd be here forever if they attempted to brave this ocean of dresses alone.

"Right, you can..." she trailed off as her eyes fixed on a woman some feet away, her head just bobbing up from between two racks where she was rearranging some very bright red and very small garments, "...um, wait by the changing rooms?"

"It's fine." Javier replied, starting to push the stroller in that direction. If nothing else he figured he could function as a temporary clothing rack or something. On instinct, he scans the perimeter while Miss Rivas elucidates to the shop assistant what she is looking for and the younger woman, perhaps in her mid- to late twenties, snaps her fingers in triumph before announcing that she has 'just what you're looking for' and starts marching away. They follow her like ducklings from rack to rack, and a good ten minutes later they have an armful of cocktail dresses of varying lengths, cuts, and colors. It's the kind of brutal efficiency that even Search Bloc could only dream of, all in the petite shape of this eager retail employee with a side pony.

"Let me know if you need help." She chirps as she deftly deposits them in the changing room area before returning to her other tasks.

It's an almost enclosed space, five curtained cabins in an open half-circle arrangement with a long-ish bench in the middle and some tall mirrors on the spaces between. He wheels the stroller beside the bench and sits a moment later, so that the both of them are facing the changing room where the shop assistant had hung up the dress selection. Shrugs off his suit jacket, then drapes it carefully over the sleeping child to block out the light and muffle the noise of shoppers. Miss Rivas looked at him expectantly, one hand on the curtain that was half drawn.

"What?"

"You're gonna have to show me how to put on the wire thingy." She jerked her head towards the changing room. Javier gulped, the implication dawning on him. Looked at the stroller helplessly. There was nothing but an effectively timed baby snore and a twitch of one little ladybug-socked foot.

"Come on, the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can leave." As previously stated, there is no arguing with the women of this family, especially when they're right, so he resigns himself, dives for the case that holds the machinery, and stands. Miss Rivas stepped aside, drawing up the curtain after a furtive glance around. "We're both adults."

"Yeah." Javier agreed, his throat tight. At least these cabins were decently sized or they'd be squished in there like sardines in a can.

Javier turned away to give her some privacy, fiddling with the wire instead, pretending it had gotten more tangled than it was. At her soft confirmation that she's ready he turns around, making a conscious effort not to look... anywhere really. At least she'd only chucked her top; the shorts are still on.

"Agent Peña, I would assume that you have seen women in their underwear before." She sounded amused, and clearly more relaxed about this than he could ever pretend to be. He gives a terse nod, making his eyeline give a wide berth until his gaze lands squarely on her face where a bemused smirk just barely masks something more uncertain.

"Sorry, there is a real dearth of female agents or this would be much less awkward." Javier stepped closer, holding the wire in his hands like the world's flimsiest shield. She's right of course, the sight of a woman's brassiere hasn't been new to him since he was a teenager sneakily perusing clothing catalogues in his bedroom after dark. Hers isn't even... it's... functional, off-white, unwired and unembellished, and reveals just the edge of a tan line, something he quickly drags his gaze away from. The problem is of course, that the path his eyes take is further down her body, suddenly snagging on a raised line down at the very edge of her ribcage on the left side.

"What's this?" His thumb drags across the raised skin instinctually. It's a thin, straight line of scar tissue, around half the length of his index finger and sitting right on the lowest rib. Diana gasped softly and he snatched his hand away like he'd touched one of the electric fences back on the ranch. "Sorry."

"It's fine, it's just a scar." She took a steadying breath and retraced the path his finger had just taken on her skin with her own, pensive. "I got caught in a shootout on my way home when I was home for summer from university once. It's just a graze." Just a graze that would have been more than that if it had hit just a few inches to the side. Javier felt faint at the thought.

"Do you have any?"

"Huh?" His brain is lagging on something, hence the eloquent reply.

"You said you get shot at a lot in this job. Ever been hit?" She ducks her head a little, looking up at him through her lashes from where she's leaning back against the wall. "Come on, I showed you mine, you show me yours." It's clearly a joke, and one she obviously regrets as soon as the words are out, judging by the pained expression that comes right after the statement.

"Just one." Javier said, tapping his leg about a handwidth above the knee. "Went right through. Apparently missed the main artery by less than half an inch."

"Hmm, " she hummed, "Looks like we're both lucky then."

"Yeah," Javier agreed, his voice soft and low, "lucky."

The changing rooms really were not cramped, but with two fully grown adults inside, they were just about spacious enough. They stood barely an arm's length apart, mirror to one side and thick faux-velvet curtain to the other. Javier felt heat prickle from the base of his neck downwards, and he wasn't even the one with half his chest out. He'd only rolled up his shirtsleeves to his elbows, leaving his forearms bare.

Her hand brushed over one gently, curling around his wrist and startling him out of whatever feverish reverie he'd zoned out into.

"So," she trailed her fingertips further down, over his knuckles and the wire slung around them, before tapping against the small black cylinder that housed the recording device and battery, "does this thing get hot?"

Pull yourself together and be fucking professional! "It shouldn't."

"Right, well let's get it on then."

He handed her the microphone end first. Explained ideal placement, the closer to the face the better. This was a modified necktie bug, small and discreet, secured against the skin with tape if necessary. She took it, pinned the mic to the strap of her bra, high up on the shoulder. The wire itself was long enough to wind around her torso once with some slack. The slim casing that held the battery and recording device she tucked into her bra for now. Listened intently as he explained how to turn the device on and off.

"I'll keep this on for the rest of the day, just to get used to the feeling." Her smile was a bit wobbly as she spoke.

"Yeah, that's ...uh, a good idea." Javier fidgeted a moment, not sure what to do with his hands. "Right, I'll leave you to your-"

She gripped his hands just as he was about to turn and leave. Alarmed, he stilled. Watched he lip wobble and the rims of her eyes redden under furrowed brows. "Hey, what is it?, What's wrong?"

She heaved a deep and shaky breath that ended in an even shakier laugh. "I'm sorry I'm just... I'm scared."

"You don't have to do this if you don't feel safe." Javier was quick to offer. "You've helped us so much already."

She swallowed hard. "No, I do want to! Do this, help you. I want to bring them down! Besides, I'm going to be there anyway, so it would be a waste not to-"

She was trembling now, unaware of her own body's reaction until it was brought into sharp relief by his large warm hands on her shoulders.

"Hey," he said, thumbs rubbing gently at her collarbones, "It's going to be alright. I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

She knew, realistically, that there was only so far he could carry a promise like that, but her nerves calmed nonetheless. It was silly, really. This relationship was just a professional alliance, no matter how many deep secrets they'd shared with one another. Officially of course they couldn't ever be associated, at least as long as any of the 'Gentlemen' of Calí still roamed free. And yet, she trusted him.

"I know. I'm sorry." She babbled, nerves imploring her to externalize her anxiety through words. "I came to you; I wanted this... want this. I'm in. I'll try to be brave."

He squeezed her shoulders gently. "You're one of the bravest people I know." And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? Because deep down he didn't want her to be brave. Helena had been brave too, and what did it get her?

"I'm just… I'm tired of being afraid." She steadied herself on him, hands gripping his biceps now.

"Sometimes being afraid is what keeps us alive." He murmured, bringing one hand up to tilt her face to meet his gaze. "Listen to me. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you're safe, okay? Whatever I can, I promise. I can't have you on my conscience as well." The last part was whispered so softly that she barely caught it, but she nodded, pulling herself together and schooling her breathing.

"Thank you." She squeezed her hands once and let go. Javier searched her face for a moment longer, thumb brushing over her cheekbone absently, before he remembered himself and drew back.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "yeah I'll be fine."

"Okay." Javier breathed, straightening, hand going for the curtain. "I'll wait outside."

Her answering smile was still shaky, but not quite as much so.

When Javier ducked out of the changing room his first glance is towards the stroller, where Salome is still napping peacefully. His second glance is directed towards the shop assistant sorting through the returns rack, directed there by the woman's disapproving huff. It's not the same one who helped them pick out dresses, but a slightly older woman, one who carries the gravitas of authority derived by experience with her.

"Did your wife need help?" She quips while untangling garments from hangers. Out of all that's happened over the past quarter of an hour or so, this is what really makes Javier's ears burn.

"Yes, with the um... zipper." He stutters, wishing for the first time that day since leaving the base that he could have a smoke.

"Hmm," the shop assistant resumed her folding, "You would not believe the kinds of things people get up to in there." Her disapproving stare moved to the stroller where Salome was still blissfully asleep under his blazer. He snatches the garment away guiltily, but Salome doesn't even stir, just slumbers on cutely. At last, the woman's eyes soften.

"Yes, well... call me or any of my colleagues if you need further... assistance."

"Thanks." He clears his throat and sits as she sails off with an armful of clothes. Miss Rivas poked her head out not a second later.

"I'm sorry, your what?"

At least she was laughing again, even if her eyes were still slightly red-rimmed and watery.

"Sorry, next time I'll be sure to clarify that you are my confidential informant and we're taking down the world's biggest drug cartel together." He retorts, and she breaks out into a wide grin accompanied by a snorty burst of laughter.

"Well, if you put it like that it sounds almost romantic." Now it's his turn to snort. "I do actually need help with this zipper, though."

She stepped half out of the little alcove, clad in a floor-length, wine-red halter gown with intricate beading all over, and a slit so high it makes his brain short-circuit. Which causes him to just stare at her dumbly for a long moment, even after she's already turned to present the high back of it.

"Agent Peña?" She throws over her shoulder, somewhere between amused and slightly concerned. He jumps and strides over, fingers fidgeting with the zipper tab until he gets a decent grip and starts to pull it up the rest of the way.

"Uh, no I meant down." Her voice is as strained as he feels. He pulls the tab down, desperately trying not to focus on the skin being revealed as he does. She releases a relieved breath when he's done and turns, stepping back inside the changing room.

"Thanks."

"This one good?" He asks with a non-committal shrug, nodding towards the dress without really looking at it.

"No, I think I do need to be able to breathe. And also I'd like to be able to walk without flashing everyone. I do work with these people, after all." She smiled, one hand on the curtain ready to draw it back shut. "I'll be quick with the rest, but you can take Salome for a turn if you want, maybe have a smoke outside? We can meet back here or by the registers."

They both look at the little girl's sleeping form simultaneously, watch her eyes move rapidly under her lids as she is lost in dreams.

"Thanks, but it's alright. I can stay in case you need further...help."

It really isn't long after that. She hurries, but they also make light conversation while she tries on another five or six dresses. She doesn't come out with most of them but narrates all their flaws very entertainingly. Javier once again enjoys how forward she is, not censoring herself in the least as she complains about everything from odd sizing to itchy material to unfortunate placement of embellishments.

"Okay, last one." She announces and then draws back the curtain with a flourish and Javier... just gapes. The dress is midnight blue, so dark it looks almost black until light hits the silky fabric and reflects off of it. The color compliments the deep bronze tan of her skin like it had been chosen specifically for her. It's slim-cut, body-hugging and high-collared with thin spaghetti straps and subtle beading on the bodice. A tasteful slit goes to just above the knee and the hem brushes just over the tops of her feet.

"I think this will work."

'Oh it definitely works.' Luckily Javier's mouth is currently too dry for these words to slip out, so he just nods, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Great! Let me change back real quick and let's get out of here."

He's just adjusting his suit jacket to lie over the still blissfully sleeping toddler like a blanket when Diana steps back out, back on her shorts and top.

"Looks like the American taxpayers are in luck. It's discounted." She said as she read the tag, then draped the blue dress over the top of the stroller. "Twenty percent. Not bad."

Javier snorted. Took the other dresses and hung them up on the returns rack. Grabbed the stroller handles and gently set the vehicle in motion. Salome stirred a moment, then bunched a chubby hand in the fabric sheltering her from the chilly air-conditioning and settled back down. Diana's gaze is soft upon her niece, and soft still when she raises her eyes to meet Javier's.

They make their way down to the registers, walking from the top floor of the department store downwards, weaving around racks and shelves and other shoppers. Javier is pushing the stroller, Miss Rivas at his side where possible, her hand loosely hooked into the crook of his elbow again as she likes to do. It's two floors down, as they traverse the men's section, that she suddenly sidetracks, half disentangling herself, half pulling him over to a wall display. Neckties. He raises a questioning eyebrow.

"Since we're here already." She shrugs, like that explains everything. It doesn't. The eyebrw remains up and quizzical.

"Explain."

There's a dangerous glint in her eye as she lets her fingertips glide over the assorted fabrics.

"Gabi said you only have ugly ties." Has she now.

"She's only seen two!" Javier protests without heat. She eyes him critically, eyes the tie he put on this morning at the asscrack of dawn for his damn meetings. He has half a mind to argue that he didn't feel like dressing up all pretty for some pissy general at half past four in the morning.

"Was this one of them?" Though truth be told perhaps his tie selection is a bit... outdated. This one is several brownish tones in a very 70s pattern, if he's being honest.

"No?" But this one was also one of the old ones that had been gifts from Lorraine he'd never gotten rid of.

"Then you have three ugly ties." There is no arguing with this woman. So, he submits. "You'll have to make announcements on national television sooner or later; you'll need to look decent."

"I'm not arguing, am I?" He figures what's the point. What's the worst that could happen. And she knows she's won, too. Gleefully starts peering through the selection before them.

"Is this revenge? For this?" He motioned to the dress still draped over the stroller, his meaning clear between them. Is this for making you go to a party with the world's most powerful drug bosses with a wire up your boobs.

"No." She lied, picking up a solid charcoal tie and holding it up to his collar. "Of course not."

She picks out four, two solid and two patterned.

By the time he parks the car back on a side street in Envigado Salome is awake and very grumpy. A snack of peach slices and crackers mollifies her somewhat, but just enough to get her in the house and distracted by her toys before throwing a fit. Javier carried in the car seat and then the stroller, after Diana's signal that the coast was clear, and lastly he grabs her shopping bag and stuffs the last item on his itinerary for this visit inside, before he forgets again.

"Another coffee?" He wants to, he really does, but if he ingests any caffeine now he knows he won't sleep until well after midnight. So he shakes his head, apologetic. He's tired, sure, but he'll power through until he reaches his hotel (and then promptly collapse on the bed there.)

"I have one last... I brought you something, just in case." He hands her the bag, and she looks at him quizzically. Until she looks inside, that is.

"What's this?" She holds the garment up in question, turns it in her hands a a few times. Javier clears his throat.

"Bulletproof vest."

She gulps. Pales imperceptibly, eyes flitting between him and the vest.

"You really think this is neces-"

"Just in case." He insists. It probably wouldn't- it's a newer model, thinner and more discreet than the tac vests they use out in the field, but likely still too bulky to be hidden under her normal work clothes, even though she favors looser cuts. He takes it from her gently, motions for her to put her arms up so he can lower the vest over her head and do it up at the sides. Explains how it needs to be secured tight to the body so it doesn't shift.

"It won't work under my normal work clothes." Miss Rivas frowns, hands smoothing down over the front of it, calculating. Probably going through her wardrobe mentally. Doing an admirable job of not letting fear grip her again like that earlier hiccup. "It's too bulky."

"No, you're right." Javier conceded, hands still at her sides where his fingers are hooked into the clasps of the vest. "You should still take it. Who knows when it'll come in handy."

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Author’s note cont’d: this is the song Javi is hearing over the phone in the first scene btw

youtube

learn about bugs and wires here (though I do admit that I am playing a bit fast and loose with this here ;)

this is what I based the first dress on:

and here’s the final dress:

and yes, I hate about 90% of the ties they have him wear in the show and that is how that bit came about. Sorry to throw Lorraine under the bus a bit there but I’m sure they were fashionable at the time :/

Next Chapter

#narcos (tv)#narcos #narcos fanfic #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#like gloss tag #javier pena x ofc #javier peña #javier peña fanfic #my writing #multipart #series #part 3

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years ago

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Remoras Full Chapter XXXIII: Volcano Girl

I never wanted for much. Not really. Peace, love, safety, security, control, calm.

Things always got lost in translation. Such simple desires turned into contradictions. Within the muddiness that became my life, I found something resembling my original wants.

Lush, open fields (well, in my mind, I could still see a lushness to it all, but much of the fields were made up of dry grass) where my beloved and I lived in a home she built. She was resourceful, talented, kind, and often able to lift my spirits up, even when I thought that they couldn’t be lifted.

Despite such wonderful things, I couldn’t help but feel ill at ease. Like any moment, my sanctuary would be crumbled and taken from me. There shouldn’t have been any reason to feel that way: my pursuers have been defeated, my life no longer threatened, the angel no longer a corrupting force within me, and my wife who had stayed by my side throughout it all. Yet every now and then I felt the slightest hint in the back of my mind that my inner demon never went away. Sure, in a literal sense, it was gone, and I was myself and myself only.

But in another sense, I was full of fear. Fear of myself, and even if I had no evidence to suggest as such, it tugged at me in many directions. All I could do was try to take a deep breath and remain calm.

Soon winter would approach. We needed to think of a way to deal with it.

“What are we going to do about the coming cold?” I asked her, as she sat nestled in my lap.

“Simple!” She raised her index finger and I could tell she just came up with whatever idea she had on the spot. “We build a hearth. Or I do. I’ve never built a hearth before, it could be fun!”

Of course. As if I should expect any different from her.

“Do we even have the right material to build a hearth?”

“If we don’t, I’ll get some! If we don’t have the right house for one, then I’ll just rebuild and start over!”

I balked.

“Do we really have the time to build a new house?”

Not to mention, where would we sleep?

“You dare underestimate my power?” She fired right back.

“No,” I shook my head and smiled, “I know better than to do that by now.”

We gave each other a couple of light pecks, little brushes against our lips, then nuzzled against each other’s faces.

“Oh! Bathroom’s calling!” She jumped off and raced toward the bathroom.

Now that she had that idea of building a hearth in her head, there was no way of stopping her. Not that I could complain; as long as we had something to handle the winter chill, I was all good. Where we chose to live, there seemed to be only two seasons: summer and winter, with summer being the dominant one. Yes, there was spring, but it was a warm spring. The kind of spring which carried an orange glow and lit a spark across the land.

Life was grand. It was a daunting task having to fend off such worrisome feelings, but I knew that wonderful things were all around me.

That was right: I had nothing to worry about. Nothing at al –

Knock, knock.

Two knocks upon the door.

We never had company (save for Velvet and Coriander, but they had a knack of showing up anywhere and at any time).

Juniper did say that her cousin was apparently planning on showing up. Does that mean…?

Another few raps upon the door, along with raps upon my tiresome heart.

I sucked in the nervousness, picked myself up, and headed toward the door. My shaking hand reached for the doorknob and turned it, then I watched the slow creep of it opening and stared out into the open air.

At first, I saw nothing save for the lush scenery I was accustomed to. Its gentle breeze rolling the tall grass, the greenhouse and coop off to the side. But little else. As childish as it was to admit, I had a particular morbid thought:

What if it’s a ghost?

Then I looked down.

Before me was a miniature version of Juniper. I couldn’t believe what I saw, so I removed my glasses and rubbed my eyes, but the vision did not go away. Then it clicked and I felt silly.

“You’re...Demetria, right?” I asked, plain as day. She looked a little angry.

“No shit, Sherlock,” she barked back. Despite the blonde twin tails, she reminded me more of Coriander than Juniper.

“Um, well...how are you doing?” I squeezed out the words. Although my voice came out soft, inside I was screaming. Why did you want to come here? Why now? Why me? Why us?

It was just like how I used to act. Really, if I desired to be kind, it was more than just lying about how I felt.

“Horrible. I can’t figure out what to do with my life. No, it’s not that. It’s that I’m trying to find something to prevent what I’m becoming,” she recited.

“What you’re becoming?” I tilted my head.

She lifted up her hoodie from the bottom and I first thought that she was about to strip in front of me, something which would have been ridiculous, but not all that out there considering the kinds of people I’ve met. Instead, I was greeted with lines, or rather indentations, across her lower torso.

“Oh. You’ve got abs. Congrats?” I was at a loss. Why was that such a bad thing and why did that warrant coming here?

“No. Not congrats. It’s hideous. No one should bear witness to such a thing.”

If that’s the case, then why show me?

“I mean, as long as you’re happy, I don’t see what the problem is,” I remained confused as hell. ‘Happy’. That word stung. It shouldn’t have, but it did. It was the truth, that as long as she was fine with it, there shouldn’t have been an issue. But that wouldn’t solve the problem. There had to be some reason she was dissatisfied, right?

“Have you been eating enough? Drinking enough water?” I grasped for some kind of answer that made sense.

“Probably not. Anyway, you gonna let me in or what?”

“Why?” I blurted. Then to cover, I smiled.

“Oh. I get it,” she stamped her foot. “You don’t want me here. Makes sense. I’m intruding on your space, is that it?”

Hit the nail right on the head. Well, now that it’s out in the open no use being coy about it.

“Yes, that’s how I feel,” I stood up straight, and my voice darkened as well. “However, Juniper did inform me that you would show up, and I don’t mean any ill will.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” she dismissed, “at least you’re being honest now.”

Right. I should be honest more often.

“Who’s at the door?” Juniper’s voice echoed behind me. Rather than respond, I kept my gaze down toward Demetria.

“Please, come in,” I ushered her. Demetria dragged her feet inside and Juniper looked astonished upon seeing who our guest was.

“It’s really you! Oh wow!” Juniper exclaimed.

Demetria plopped down on one of the chairs across from the one Juniper and I usually sat on.

“Yup. It me,” she grunted.

I closed the door, then sat down where I had been seated. Juniper followed suit and took her seat in my lap.

“So, what’s up?” Juniper opened up the conversation with Demetria, even with her arms wrapped around my neck.

Demetria looked down, legs spread wide, and said nothing. I thought the silent treatment would hold, but after a while, she spoke up.

“My life should have been normal. Boring. So why did I become so obsessed? Why did it have to be her?” She shook her head. It didn’t even sound like her words were in response to Juniper’s question.

“Are you talking about Remora?” I figured the answer must have already been a resounding ‘yes’, but even still.

“You already know. It doesn’t even bear mentioning, yet because of that, all of these events set into motion and now even though I’ve come to my senses, I can’t return to my old self. It frightens me.”

“I can relate,” I nodded in agreement. “Sometimes things happen like, ‘if only I hadn’t have done this…’ but even if you’re not where you wanted to be, you can still find a path for yourself. I believe that.”

She looked up and studied my face. It looks like you’re being honest, was the vibe I got from her. It creeped me out.

“Maybe so,” she replied. “That’s why I came here. Home didn’t work for me. I got into a fight, and the thing was, I enjoyed it. That’s not how I want to be. I don’t want to seek out fights to satisfy some sick urge. I want to do something creative, and I figured staying with you and Juniper would help with that.”

“It’s true. I’ve done a couple of creative things here and there,” Juniper chimed in. “This house being one of them!”

Yep. Of course she was proud of that.

“I know I’m already inside and I came all the way out here in what was a few day trip, but is it okay if I stay with you guys for a little while?”

My heart sank, but I was already prepared to accept her, even if it might have been hard. In my heart, I wanted to do the right thing.

“Yes, of course. We’ve got a spare room,” I gestured to the room that resided beside the room Juniper and I slept in.

“Thank you. I know this isn’t ideal for you, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll stay in the room for the most part.”

“Actually,” Juniper spoke up. “I think it’d be nice to have some work with our crops. Of course, while it’s winter, there won’t be much of that, but I’m sure there’s still some things you can do around here.”

Demetria opened her mouth, ready to balk or protest, but then rested her lips flat and gave a short nod.

“Sure. Anything.”

While I was sure it was an uncomfortable subject for her, I couldn’t help myself. Something gnawed at me and I needed to know what it was.

“By the way, Demetria, what happened between you and Remora?” I pried.

To my surprise, she answered, and even though her voice continued to hold a dry, barren tone, she didn’t sound bothered in the slightest.

“We had a long talk. She told me everything. Who she was, what she had been through, her identity. At the end, when she reached her conclusion, I didn’t accept what she said about herself. In fact, I argued against it. But who’s to say she was wrong but me? Maybe she didn’t care about anyone, and even if she did, I couldn’t force her to care. Once I realized that, I felt the best course of action was for me to leave. Me being there was a futile effort, worse, I was more of a hindrance.”

“That tracks,” I replied. “Rhea probably felt the same way about herself. I feel like I failed with both of them. One, I could have prevented their death, the other, I treated as if they were a way for me to redeem myself for failing the other one.”

“You’re being hard on yourself again,” Juniper reminded me. “It’s hard to know what to do sometimes, not to mention whether it’s right or even possible to help someone all of the time. You were going through a difficult time when you met Rhea. It was hard enough just to help yourself.”

“She’s right, you know,” Demetria added. “What’s done is done, anyway. Might as well move on from it.”

I knew Juniper was right, but hearing that from Juniper’s cousin just seemed harsh. Even by my standards. Somehow, I needed to tell her as much. I was my own person, so if anyone could say as such, I could.

Be nice, but be honest...how do I do that?

“Trust me, moving on is something I’d love to do. But it’s just as you heard from Juniper: I was going through a difficult time. My health, both physically and mentally weren’t well and the lives of both Juniper and I were threatened. Those events still run through my head, and I’m trying to be better both toward myself and others, but it’s not so simple as a snap of my fingers.”

As much as I wish it was that way. I no longer had that kind of power.

“Yeah. I guess so,” she turned her head. Not so much a shrug, but there was still the disinterested tone to her voice. “It’s not that I dislike Remora or anything. I wish her well, and maybe she does need a friend, but I just don’t think it can be me.”

Despite her tone, I agreed with the sentiment.

“I think we all wish her well,” I replied. “I do worry about her. Not that I really need to, but when we had our fight over text, it seemed like she was going through a rough time.”

“Can we stop talking about her? She’s not important. I get she affected you a great deal and all that, but that’s not why I came here. I’d rather not think about her anymore.”

That struck me. No, not personally. Not that time. But it just occurred to me that she was the one who wanted to move on, and from her limited perspective, probably thought that I should do the same. If it was like that…

“Yes. Certainly. My apologies.”

Juniper got up off of my lap and gestured toward the room Demetria would be staying in.

“Wanna drop off your stuff in the room?” She offered. Demetria’s mouth appeared to drop to the floor.

“Did you have a whole room prepared for me or something?!” She cried out. It was the most expressive I’ve seen her since she arrived. Granted, she hadn’t been there long, and I hadn’t formed much of an impression of her, but still, it counted for something.

Juniper chuckled.

“Not quite. We’ve had guests before. It’s a long story,” she took a quick glance over to me and winked.

Well, we were prepared either way, considering your mom called my wife.

Reluctant, I dragged my feet toward the room as well, watched as she set down her backpack next to the little bed. Without hesitation, she jumped onto the bed, face first, buried into the pillow. Both Juniper and I watched as it soon became apparent that our guest had fallen right to sleep. I couldn’t help but sleep.

She probably needed the rest.

As the days passed, my desire for her to leave grew. Bright and early into the morning, I woke up and brewed myself a warm cup of sagebrush tea. After a few minutes of letting the flavor steep, I took the cup and sat down on the living room floor, then took a sip. Nothing out of the ordinary.

However, that soon changed when out of the corner of my eye, a zombie-like figure shambled past me and into the kitchen. I didn’t pay the figure much mind, I was too wrapped up in the aroma.

“Oh, uh, it’s, uh,” came the low groggy groans in just the same manner a zombie would make. I turned to my left and I jolted upright, which made some of my tea splash out of its cup and seared onto my bare collarbone.

There Demetria stood, mouth agape. Or, well, it must have been, but she turned her head and covered her mouth with the sleeve of her hoodie.

“Sorry, I just got up to get some food,” she mumbled, no more awake than before, yet more coherent. In one of her hands was an orange.

“Hi,” I waved with my free hand. That hot tea water still stung, but it would pass with time.

She continued to look away, but waved back. I was confused until Juniper walked out, arms stretched out and a mighty yawn, no hands covering her mouth.

“Oh. I see. It’s a tits out kind of morning,” Demetria commented once again in a mumbled. That time, I figured it out.

“Mm. Yep. Say hun, what’s the brew today?” Juniper didn’t pay Demetria’s comment much mind. Really, it wasn’t a big deal. We wore as much or as little clothes as we wanted at any given time. We were free people and it was our own home. But neither of us took into account how it may come across to a guest. When it was Velvet and Coriander, neither of them paid it any mind, but everyone was different.

“...Sagebrush…” I murmured.

“Huh? I couldn’t hear you?” Juniper leaned over and cupped her ear, hoping I would repeat my answer. Demetria, for her part, shuffled past Juniper and I.

“Don’t mind me, you guys. I’ll just be in my room,” she reassured without sounding very reassuring.

“You know, if you’re uncomfortable, you can just say so,” I called after her.

“No, no, it’s fine…”

You’re damn right it’s fine. It’s our house. We do what we wa –

Juniper turned her head toward Demetria.

“Oh, that’s what it is, huh?” Juniper stood up, hands on her hips. “I’ve got it: we’ll compromise!”

Compromise? Compromise how?

“I’ve got some plain whites, we can get a bucket and some dyes and make tie-dye shirts!”

I didn’t see what the point of that was. We already had shirts. I could just put one on and the problem would be solved just like that.

“Come on, you too!” Juniper urged me up. “Group project! It’ll be fun! Aren’t you into the whole hippie thing?”

Neither Demetria nor I looked thrilled about the idea. However, I smiled.

“Yeah, this could be nice to get out and have fun with dyes,” I tried to see the positive in it, even if I wasn’t keen on giving up on my way of life.

We had fun, though. Early in the morning, loose shirts, gentle breeze. All three of us dipped shirts into a swirl of dyes, and splashed the mucky water at each other. By the time we were done, the three of us were a mess of paint.

In spite of that, the feeling of wrongness carried over.

Let it be known that Juniper’s impulsivity was not the issue. In fact, that was an aspect of hers which I loved, even if most of the time, I complained about it.

“I was wondering, what kind of creative things do you do?” Demetria asked Juniper while we dunked shirts.

“Just about anything!” She answered.

“So, what, would you make swords?” Demetria joked, though I could already see the spark light up in Juniper’s eyes.

“That’s brilliant! I can and should make a sword!”

“Are you serious?! I was joking!” Demetria was shocked. I placed my hand on her shoulder.

“It’s too late; once she’s got an idea in her head, you can’t talk her out of it.”

My main concern was whether Juniper would still manage to get that hearth installed in our house, and if it would work out.

But really, that wasn’t a concern, either. Even if the things Juniper made were never perfect, they were neither broken nor defective, either. In spite of the imperfections which came with making something for the first time, everything she made she put a great deal of care into and would be meticulous in at least trying to get whatever she made to a functional state. Needless to say, she was wonderful.

All was well enough. I was sure we’d get through winter no problem. Still, I couldn’t quite shake off the feeling of dread, and a nagging at me which repeated the words, “I want you gone.”

At least that’s all they were: thoughts. Insecurities.

What a relief it was that such things couldn’t manifest. Not anymore.

When I lived in Trent’s apartment, I was a recluse. Even after the bond between Juniper and I deepened and she understood what I had been dealing with, I still found myself wary around her. Not because of her, but because I was guarded.

Once, I had shut myself in that empty room, just as I had many times before. It was during another period of depression where I couldn’t bring myself to eat, let alone face anyone. Both Juniper and Trent were understanding, much to my relief. They left bowls of soup next to the door so I wouldn’t starve, but I wasn’t even sure if I took so much as a sip. I might have crept out of the room in the dead of night to wash out the bowl, just so it seems like I ate.

Still, it was nice to know they cared.

What wasn’t nice was who I met, as the door to the room opened. I was sprawled out on the floor, looking listless, and could do without sudden intrusions.

“Well,” a woman’s voice spoke in a huff, “Trent didn’t tell me he had a third person living here.”

I looked over. Some frazzled looking middle-aged woman with frizzy strawberry blonde hair.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m their mother,” she answered, all stern and cross.

I’d say “who does she think she is?” But she already answered my question.

“I see. You’re visiting?”

“I am.”

She gave me a disapproving look. Totally uncalled for.

“Come out. I’d like to have a talk,” her voice didn’t waver, so it sounded much more like an order than a request. I didn’t have to respect it at all, but I did.

I followed her out into the living room and sat down on the couch. She pulled out a chair from the dining room and sat across from me with one leg over the other and arms folded. Just as serious as before. Well, two could play at that game.

“Who are you?” She began the conversation.

“Vesuvius,” I replied.

“How long have you been living here?” Sheesh, she’s really going for the interrogation, huh?

“About a couple years.”

“A couple ye – moving on. What is your relation with my daughter?”

That question took me by surprise. It just seemed so specific.

“None. We just happen to occupy the same space,” I kept my composure. Whatever her goal was, I wasn’t about to give in.

“So you two don’t interact?”

“What’s this about?” The words forced their way out. “Trent’s the one who took me in.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

Great. I brought that one on myself.

“I was homeless,” I stated, “he let me stay here. I stay in my room for the most part. I don’t bother anyone, I don’t demand any of their food.”

“And you don’t see a problem with that? I can tell you don’t take care of yourself. You’re thin, pale, fatigued. Do you think that’s fair on Juniper?”

“Why are you focusing on her? If you have a problem, you should take it up with Trent.”

She closed her eyes, shook her head, and sighed.

“Trent’s a lost cause, he’d take care of anyone if he could, to the detriment of himself. But there’s still hope for Juniper. She’s got some wits about her, she’s got a little more sense, if only she would act on it.”

“I think Juniper’s capable of making her own decisions,” I countered.

“Be that as it may, you’re just wasting away. What if she opens that door one day and finds a dead body. Do you really think that’s fair on her? Neither of my children should have to take care of you, especially if you won’t take care of yourself.”

I made no comment on that.

“Now, you can go back out on the streets for all I care.”

“That isn’t your call to make,” I hissed.

Her brow creased.

“That’s true. But if you cared about Juniper at all, you would leave.”

I remained silent. Without an answer, she got up and walked to the front door.

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” she bade me farewell. Really, I couldn’t have said the same about her.

She was right, though. I was someone who was hunted, pursued. If the organization pursuing me ever found out where I was, both Trent and Juniper would be in harm’s way. It would be careless of me to run that risk.

So after moments of deliberation, I too went for the door. However, before I could depart, the door opened up and Juniper entered.

“Hey, where are you going?” She was shocked to see me in front of her as soon as she walked in. Not to mention, she already pieced together that I was headed out.

“I’ve decided to leave,” I stated. That should have been that. Not another word. Instead, she too scowled, and tears started to form from her eyes.

“No!” She shouted. It took me aback, to the point that I took a few steps back, then tripped back down onto the couch. She climbed up onto the couch, her legs spread out over my own as sat on my lap, leaned down, her forehead pressed against mine, and she looked into my eyes. I tried to look away, but her arms held onto the top of the couch and blocked my vision.

“I want you…” She muttered.

My face grew hot and I really tried to look away.

“You want me?”

She nodded her head.

“I want you...to stay,” she added.

Oh.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” I tried to argue.

“Why? Did you talk to my mom? Did she tell you that?”

I gulped.

“Uh…”

She lowered one arm and placed her hand on my chin, then lifted my head up. There really was no avoiding her gaze now.

Again, I gulped. My face must have boiled over.

“Look, I love my mom, don’t get me wrong, but she can be a little...overprotective. She was always trying to get me to be tough and mean so that I could protect myself from bad people. She would go on about how cruel the world can be and try to drill it in my head, but look, I already knew all that, but I didn’t want to be that kind of person. I don’t want to go my life distrusting everyone. It’s tough being kind, but this is how I chose to be, and I don’t regret it.”

I already knew Juniper had her ‘tough’ side. When we first met, she was the one who stood up to me and managed to convince me to eat with her and her brother.

“She doesn’t know what you’ve been through. So please, try not to pay her any mind.”

I see. Her mom’s just like that. And that thing about trying to ‘toughen up’ Juniper? She must have been a cruel parent.

“Okay...I’ll try…” I struggled to get the words out. Juniper took heavy sighs and I felt her warm breath in my ear.

“Can I kiss you?” She asked.

My heart made little thumps.

“I mean...if you’re bold enough to sit on my lap...you may as well...I mean, I don’t mind…” I stammered.

She leaned in and our lips brushed against each other, then our mouths opened and our tongues tangled into each other. Heavy breaths continued to follow. When she released, she asked:

“Can we take this further?”

I looked down.

“I mean...on the couch? Shouldn’t we do this on a bed or the floor?”

She smiled and nodded.

“Yeah. Maybe my room can be your room, too?”

“S...wh...re...uh…” I stuttered out loose syllables, as I had no words available. I was in total shock.

“Since when did you want to do these things with me?” I spat out. She chuckled in response.

“Hehe, I wonder.”

We can skip the rest of the details. As much as it was a fond memory, it was also quite embarrassing for me. Everything seemed so fast, like a strange chain reaction. Sometime after, I called up Juniper’s mom.

“Sorry, I’m staying here,” I told her flat out.

“Then you better treat her well,” was her response.

Despite such improvements to my life and health, I continued to resent Juniper’s mother. Yes, it was terrible, but I had the idea stuck in my head that she must have been an abusive woman and an antagonistic figure. That nothing good could come from her. So thoughts started to crop up, I would be much happier if she weren’t in my life.

Then it happened.

Not even a few days after such a thought, Conifer Bark died of a heart attack.

It was never meant to be like that. Yes, it was a dark thought that I had, but it was never meant to be made reality. Trent told me that she had been in poor health for a few years now, and in all honesty, I was relieved to not have to deal with her anymore.

When it came time for the funeral and the casket was lowered into the ground, Juniper grabbed the fabric of my shirt and sobbed into my chest. I was confused why she could be so sorrowful for someone who had been such a negative force in her life.

I held onto Juniper tight as she wailed, yet I had nothing to feel on my part.

I wholly believe I was the cause of her mother’s death. Not through any deliberate action, but simply because I had perceived her as a threat to my happiness.

One other side-effect I never mentioned after getting rid of the angel (or demon) that was within me was that some of the gaps in my memories had been refilled, as they must have been intentionally forgotten in order to protect myself. Those memories would surface without cause nor stimuli.

Back when I was a teenager, I had a girlfriend named Sparrow. Once she had a dream where she turned into a sparrow, and ever since then, she decided to go by that name. She was the same age as me, but rather than go to school, lived out on her own in an open field with her van. It might have been because of her that I desired to be such a free spirit, as she was one, herself.

For several years, I believed that I had left her behind after I had traveled through time once, then was pursued by the shadowy organization. In truth, I did reunite with her for a short while. It was when I was still young, and I had returned to my own time after retrieving my father’s time machine. She and I traveled cross-country and had a couple of boys smuggled in the back who we tried to get them over to Canada due to the draft they had been forced into. On principle, we both held great disdain for the military and its atrocities, and would rather have at least saved two people from its sadistic lust for violence.

...Unfortunately, neither of us were successful. We were stopped by a group of people who claimed to be government officials. They captured us, put her and I in two different cells. What happened to those boys, I never found out, but I couldn’t imagine it was anything good.

Through brutal cunning and vicious wit, I escaped and broke her free as well. However, as the ones who oversaw the facility noticed that we had made our escape, they gave chase. There wasn’t much time. I hijacked a truck, and I begged her to come in. She just shook her head and smiled. I got out of the truck, pleaded. My heart raced and I was desperate. I couldn’t see myself leaving without her.

“Please,” I sobbed. “I need you. I know how I’m always saying I don’t need you, but I do!”

Her expression didn’t change.

“No, you were right. You never needed anyone. You should hurry up and leave.”

She walked away. I must have said more, but they fell on deaf ears.

I was enraged. I was devastated. But I couldn’t stay any longer. I didn’t know where I run to, or how I would evade their grasp, but I did.

All the while, the thought pervaded:

There’s no way this is real. I must be making it up. I have to. If it’s real, then I can’t be happy unless I forget about it all.

So I did.

When the memory returned, I was situated in Juniper’s lap. Tears began to roll down my eyes.

“Is everything okay, dear?” Juniper asked.

“I just remembered something,” I told her.

Demetria walked in. She had been out gathering wood for the hearth. Against all odds (well, I say that, but I had no doubts that she could have built one), it had been set up, just in time for winter.

“Did I interrupt something?” She stood with a bundle of logs in her arms.

“No,” I looked up. “I just cry easily sometimes.”

“Huh,” was her reply, then she set the wood into the hearth. “I’ve never been much of a crier, myself.”

I smiled

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” I assured her. In truth, I was only reassuring myself.

“I know. I just don’t do it much.”

As the days passed, I adjusted more to the idea of Demetria living with us. She wasn’t bad at all, and she was a good help around the house. She’d feed the chicken and help with farming. It irked me that I couldn’t get much of a read on her. I thrived on having some kind of an impression of others. Without that, it felt like some kind of omen and I didn’t know how to react.

So in spite of the peacefulness, I continued to stress each day. Perhaps an unfounded stress, but a stress all the same. It might not have helped that Juniper sometimes let the chickens in the house. One morning the whole lot of them charged into Demetria’s room and jumped on her bed. I heard a squeaky, “eep” sound emit from her room.

“Juniper, did you have to let those chickens in the house?” I complained.

“If you’re cold, they’re cold. Let them in!” She replied. I knew I couldn’t talk sense into her at that point, and I loved those chickens too, but goddamn, they were chaos incarnate.

However one would have interpreted the situation, it sure was a literal rude awakening. Even if I wasn’t the one who was given a direct assault, the whole thing left me just a tad on edge. So to counter it, I retreated outside, shivered the whole way through as I went into my greenhouse and retrieved one of the plants. Once I made my way back inside and holed up in Juniper and I’s room, I sat on the floor next to our bed. Beside me was the bong that Juniper had made for me on one of my birthdays. I lit up, and soon all my worries faded, as did the rest of me.

Everything zoned. I zoned out, the room zoned in and out, and my hands were a pulse. My legs became turbo jets and vibrated against the hardwood floor.

“Ah, relief,” I let out the droned words and blew out a puff of smoke. Then came the coughs. That was always my least favorite part, even if I accepted it as a certainty.

“I may as well be the only person in the universe. Maybe there’s other people, too. There could be cows up there. Ah, who cares?” I mused. Even if I didn’t make total sense, I was at ease. That was the most important thing.

Soon I was joined by two silhouettes at the doorway. Silly me, I forgot to close the door.

“Uh, is Ves okay?” One of the silhouettes echoed a sentiment.

“She’s fine, she’s just high,” a familiar echo from other silhouette explained. “It helps her calm down. I’m fine with it, but I don’t smoke myself, as the smoke gives me headaches.”

I knew that voice from anywhere. It was my tree star.

“Juniper! Babe! Pig in the city! My Homeward Bound!” I reached my arms out for her and signaled that she was invited in.

“Is she just naming children’s movies now?” That other voice or echo, asked.

“It’s fine. Hey hun,” she waved.

“Come join me! My legs are a torpedo!”

“In a little bit,” she let out a little laugh. “I think you deserve this time for yourself.”

She was right. I mean, I wanted to cuddle. I wanted to fuck. But that could wait. I had my own time to relax and let all the stress runoff like magma. At least I still had that.

We all survived the winter. Our efforts were a group effort, and that extended to making food and keeping each other warm. Despite never getting a good grasp on what kind of person Demetria was, I grew more at ease around her as time went on. Maybe that was a mistake. I didn’t want to think so, but one evening in late February changed everything.

Huddled on the floor, the three of us played a nice game of poker with tarot cards. Let it be known that one thing Demetria and I had in common was our poker faces. Juniper, on the other hand, always puffed up her cheeks and held back laughter whenever she drew a card. It was clear she didn’t take the game quite so seriously.

It should have been light and relaxing.

Instead, bright lights shone from outside. Demetria leapt to her feet and ducked under the window. She poked her head up, then turned to us.

“Stay inside,” she commanded.

“What’s going on?” I panicked. I could already tell from such brashness in her voice that something was amiss.

“I don’t know.”

Next came the sound of tires screeching. I only heard the grating noise, as I dared not look outside. My hands shook, my nerves short circuited, and everything in me told me that nothing good was to come next.

“They have guns…” Demetria muttered.

They...what?

Without the image, my mind went wild.

“Who’s out there?” Juniper asked.

“I don’t know,” her voice sharpened. “But I can tell it’s nothing good. Stay inside, I’ll keep you guys safe.”

I was confused, but more than that, panic was already setting in.

“What can you even do?!” I cried out.

“I don’t know that either,” she replied, then ran to the back of the house and jumped out from the window in her room.

Once I heard her land on the ground, I sat stunned.

My mind raced. So did my heart. There was nothing I could do. I didn’t have power anymore. I didn’t want to have it again, but I never expected something like that. Something that I had no control over. It ate at me, the unknowing. The confusion. Despite the pulse, the violent pulse that carried through my whole being. It couldn’t be helped. I too went for the front window, and when I saw what was out there, I was sick to my stomach.

Outside the fields were set ablaze. There was a group of burly men in heavy armor and helmets which scattered about the fields.

They’re here. They’re dangerous. But who are they? No. It doesn’t matter who. What matters is that I’m not safe and I should be.

Gunfire erupted. Rat-tat-tat. Thunderous piercing shots. Then, as I cowered and covered my head, covered my ears, buried myself in my legs, I heard the sound: a guttural scream. Bellows and ghastly shrieks. But no tone which indicated Demetria.

“Don’t worry, hun,” Juniper whispered. “We’ve got that sword in my workshop. We can defend ourselves.”

“No!” I snapped, sharp and shrill. “There’s NOTHING! They have guns!”

There was no comfort. There were no magic words, no desires which could erase what was outside our door. I was powerless.

I rocked back and forth, clenched my fists. No. My fists clenched my head. Everything, no matter how much I tightened up, would not go away. I felt a hand upon my shoulder. It must have been Juniper’s. No. It was wrong. I wanted to bat it away, scream. There was no comfort to be had.

What is it? Is it The Flashbulb? But how? I thought Velvet and Coriander took care of them. There shouldn’t be anything, so WHY?! There has to be a reason. There has to be a purpose. Think...THINK. Why?

My mind was frantic, running faster than I could ever hope to catch up, but when the commotion at last subsided and smoke seeped through the windows, I had my answer. It was the only possibility.

I stormed out of the house, ready to erupt.

When I looked around, I saw no flames. It must have been the glow from the lights, my mind. That didn’t matter. All I saw was red. That was, until I drew close to the armored truck that had been parked in the open dirt path. In front of the truck was Demetria, who held one of the armed men by the back of his collar. She saw me and turned, a face I didn’t recognize.

“It’s done,” she announced with a grim expression. She sounded out of breath, but more than that, excited. Like she had been wanting something like that. Like she had anticipated it.

“YOU!” I shouted and pointed a finger at her. “YOU BROUGHT THIS WITH YOU! I WAS FINE HERE UNTIL YOU SHOWED UP! I HAD THE LIFE I WANTED! I HAD PEACE! YOU RUINED IT! YOU TOOK MY HOME! I SHOULD HAVE NEVER LET YOU IN!”

My voice was shrill. It was all I could muster. I had nothing else to protect me. I tried to shout, no, scream more words her way. My throat couldn’t take any more. No, my mind. My emotions. I was too weak, far too fragile. I thought I saw her lower lip quivered but when I focused, no. There was nothing indicating that my words had any sort of effect on her.

Even in my desperate screams, I was powerless.

With nothing else, I fell to the ground and broke down into tears.

“Leave,” I forced out the word. Then, I shouted, “do you hear me? Leave. GO.”

I looked up, desperate for her to take the cue. What I saw was her, staring back down at me, unaffected. Her face had a terrifying seriousness, brows creased and a burning gaze. Then, she spoke up:

“Understood. I never meant for this to happen, but I swear I’ll make sure it never happens to you guys again,” she stated with a dearth of emotion.

As she departed in that same armored vehicle which shattered my peace, everything around me faded into a crisp white.

Sirens in my head. I turned equal measure numb and a sobbing mess. I felt a hand upon my back, then Juniper’s voice.

“Come on. Let’s get back inside,” her words broke through, rushed, yet calm. Reluctant, I let her take me in, but the whole night, I thought about how I would be happiest if everyone and everything, including myself, would just cease to exist.

#writing #stories #remoras full #peace #love #wives #lesbians #free spirit #drama

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oumaheroes · 4 years ago

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Earthbound 3/?

Summary:

Centuries after humanity fled a dying Earth and found sanctuary in the stars, the planet has healed enough to support mankind once more. For some, there is something more than curiosity; memories from another life whisper history in familiar voices, calling them home.

'He closes his eyes and thinks about blue flowers and large statues of stone, of ships and red coats flapping over a green meadow.'

Previous chapters:

1, 2

AO3

……………………………………………………………………

Chapter 3: A World In Orbit

Someone, he would love to know who, found out at some point after their ship had set off from where he boarded that Alfred has a background in engineering. Once this fatal slip occurred it was only a matter of time for someone else to go digging for his name through all of the records out there, through the collections shared by each and every human colony, and find his qualifications and work history. That was that, in their eyes.

Now they, they being anyone who needs anything fixing or mending, won't stop bugging him, trying to cajole him into moving division and come and work in engineering again. Even the head of engineering for the ship himself comes to ask after him personally for a big job that needs doing.

'I don't understand!' the man waves his arm angrily, in frustration, and frowns at Alfred who slouches lower in his chair, refusing to make eye contact. Matthew sits stiffly in the alcove in the corner, unnoticed, and observes the proceedings with mounting apprehension.

'With your skills you're set for life! Heck, I'd give you a permanent position on this ship with the experience you're sitting on! I'm not even asking for much, not for someone like you.'

With that, Alfred reacts. 'Someone like me? What's that supposed to mean?'

'Someone as gifted as you! I've heard all about what you've done and where you've worked. You being from where you're from is enough, not many planets specialise kids like that, you know. You're practically a gold mine just in and of yourself.'

Alfred bites his lip, tastes the disappointment. He imagines his parents, his teachers, and tries to keep his own wants in mind in the face of such familiar, haunting logic.

The head of engineering takes Alfred's silence as a rejection and tries again. 'Look, I'm not asking you to work for me forever, and I'll pay you well for this time. I'll even put in a good word for you for further work on Earth, if it goes to plan.'

It's tempting, the stability of a job is promising, but Alfred has been in this particular cycle before and knows the routine, one job leads to another which leads to another and before you know it, life has passed you by. Well, Alfred broke out once, he's not planning on going back.

He shakes his head but concedes to look the other man in the eyes, giving him to respect he's entitled to. He is, after all, not at fault here, he's right to be confused.

'Sorry, I appreciate the offer, really, but I'm done with that line of work.'

The man shakes his head and sighs. He has the grace to accept Alfred's answer, but it seems that he won't go down without causing as much damage as he can. Maybe it's as if by making Alfred doubt himself he can mop up and salvage the damaged pieces. 'There's nothing for ya in history, you know that, right? They need man power down there; they've got a colony to stabilise-' stable stable stable '-and they're gonna need people to do real work. Essential stuff. What's digging about in some dirt gonna do for them?'

It's nothing Alfred hasn't heard before, nothing that he doesn't already think to himself at night as he lays in the quiet, but it's sharp nonetheless.

Seed hopefully planted, the engineer leaves. After a beat of silence Matthew gets up and sidles over to sit besides Alfred before turning to him indignantly.

'Fuck him.' Matthew is rarely this outspoken and Alfred blinks at him in surprise. 'Who gave him the right to decide what's essential? They've already got all the 'essential' people down there otherwise the colony would have failed. Well, it hasn't, has it? So there's room for people like us, too.'

Alfred suddenly understands, it's not just Alfred Matthew is speaking for, but for himself as well. The understanding of animals does not a colony make, who needs information about bears when there's food needing to be grown?

'We benefit mankind in other ways, Alfred. And you know, if it doesn't work then we do something else. But you fixing whatever he's fucked up on this ship does not change that, so screw him.'

Alfred looks, looks for a sign that perhaps Matthew is saying all this only to convince himself or to make himself feel better about his own decisions, but Alfred finds nothing but sincerity and true belief. He gives him a beaming smile. 'There's a reason I like you, Matt.'

Matthew blushes and his lips twitch, but his face remains just as serious as he waits for a response. Alfred laughs loudly, claps him on the back and then stands, pulling Matthew up with him. 'Come one, let's get dinner. I'll buy! And you're right, we're gonna be just fine.'

Despite his bravado, that night the engineers words are hissed in his parents' voices and he dreams of cables and rivets curling out of the ancient bones in the dirt to drag him down to join them.

……………………………………………………………………

Being on Earth is simultaneously the best and worst thing Peter can think of which could have happened to him.

After so long on a ship and so long before that in the confined spaces of domes and tunnels Peter doesn't quite know what to do with himself when he's finally allowed outside to see what had previously been just a far off hope. It's weird, when he was younger he'd never thought of himself as being restricted in any way, everywhere always had enough room and his school playground was huge, big enough to run in and host multiple games at once. But now he realises that his preconception of what 'large' really meant is well off. Earth is huge. It is huge, and he knows that whilst the patch of land which makes up their colony is small in the grand scheme of things it's still more room than he's ever dared to think about before. The fields around him go on forever, the sky stretches up to unimaginable heights and there's so much colour and sound to take in that Peter almost feels detached from it all as his senses are overloaded.

Despite all of this, despite once again having a home, despite his dream coming true and despite his long journey finally being over, Peter finds himself slightly disappointed, he supposes, or just too accepting of everything, and this makes him feel irrevocably guilty. It's not a normal reaction, he's on Earth after all, and he worries that maybe there's something wrong with him; everyone else seems to drink the outside in with hungry eyes and beaming faces and although he's overjoyed he's not as happy as he thought he'd be, like there's something missing but nothing that he can put his finger on. Even his parents are joyful, they haven't argued since they disembarked from the shuttle and are spending their free time eagerly planning on how they'll decorate their new house, once they're finally given one.

They're sitting in the communal canteen of the Arrivals' house and looking at housing options on his dad's e-tab, his mother leaning over the table and swiping through the gallery and she looks so carefree and relaxed lately that Peter hasn't yet been able to bring himself to talk to her about how he feels. Besides, he worries about what she'd say, or think. Despite not liking how he feels, and although he knows that this isn't usual, he doesn't want to make them think that he doesn't appreciate where he is or that he's being difficult. After all, he is happy. But...

'Peter?'

Peter looks up at his dad's voice to find his father staring at him slightly concerned. He realises that he's stirring the cereal-less leftover milk in his bowl aimlessly and hastily drops his spoon.

His father gives him a wary smile. 'You doing okay there, Petey-boy?'

Peter nods. 'Yeah, just tired.'

His parents share a look and his mother shifts to face him. 'Peter, we know that we've been a bit preoccupied with the house lately and, well, we've been thinking about how we can make it up to you.'

His father nods enthusiastically, 'Yep, I know we've not really been anywhere yet and me and your mother were thinking, how would you like to go on a short trip?'

Peter frowns. 'A trip?'

'Just a short one,' his mother adds, 'Only for a few days.'

'And not too far.' His father interjects.

'And not too far. But you've been so good about all of this that we feel as though you deserve something special. You always did say you liked to see the ocean-'

Ah.

'-so we were talking about going to the beach and camping out there by the shore. It's not too far away, I know, but it'll be a nice change from the colony buildings, hmm?'

His dad winks at him. 'What do you say? Fancy it?'

He can see it, he can see the waves and the colours and how the spray is lifted by the wind; smells the salt in the air and tastes it on his tongue as sea birds screech overhead and the water roars.

'Peter?'

'Yes!' His voice is too loud, a couple from the table over look their way curiously but Peter doesn't care.

'Yes! Please, I'd love to go, can we go soon? Will we stay there the whole time? By the sea?'

His parents chuckle good naturedly and tell him yes, next weekend and yes, right by the sea, and then, just as if the conversation never happened, they go back to looking at window sizes and colour schemes whilst Peter sits there dumbstruck.

The sea. The sea, the sea, the sea, oh God how had he forgotten the sea. Everything here was so green and there were so many other new things to look at that it had completely slipped his mind that of course the sea, he needed to see the ocean. The thing is, he didn't realise that he'd needed it that much, didn't realise he cared so deeply or longed for it so much, but his heart thumps quickly at the idea of the blue blue water and he knows that that's what he mainly thought of when he used to dream of Earth.

Not the land, but the sea.

……………………………………………………………………

When he's finally allowed outside, Francis really doesn't know what to look at or touch first. It's so bright, he could never have even dreamt that sunlight could be like this; the colours are the same but the hues and tones and so vibrant and there's so much to see that Francis just staggers to a stop, arms dangling limply by his side as Arthur disappears into a tide of plants.

The light dances and bounces off dust in the air and he's surrounded by movement no matter how still it is because there's always a glint or a shine and there's so much to take in that his eyes don't know where to look and stay, so he settles for spinning about in a dizzy attempt to take in it all. He goes back in after a good hour of mindlessly ambling and grabs his camera, and over several trips outside, when he's finally not working, he takes photos to capture it all; the way the light hits a tree and spills over the ridges in the bark, the way the shadows collect behind the bumps and dips in the stone, the way the light catches the green in Arthur's eyes as he stares out to the sea which borders the rocky cliffs he likes to sit on.

He buys more e-frames than he needs and puts the photos' data inside to hang up. Arthur scoffs at this because one, you can put unlimited photos in an e-frame, stupid, and because two, he hasn't yet got a house to hang them in. He's got his little bunk in the room he shares with Arthur at the landing site but the civilian homes aren't yet ready to accommodate everyone and who knows how long he'll have to wait for one of his own; unmarried and childless he's certainly not a priority. But Francis doesn't care, instead he takes more photos and buys more frames and Arthur starts to find them huddled in his drawers now too, sat proudly atop his socks and clothes.

Arthur can't really complain too much though, because he likes to collect flowers. Francis thinks that that is stupid because the flowers die and by picking them you're technically ruining the point of flowers but he keeps quiet because when Arthur comes back after a day of flower foraging he has this silly little smile on his face that Francis has about five photos of, all tucked into one, well hidden, e-frame.

The one day, when Francis is at work, huddled in with soil deposits, he gets a call from an emotional sounding Arthur. Immediately, he panics because if Arthur displays any sort of intense emotion there's usually cause for concern and at the moment Arthur breathless with something.

'I've got a house!'

Suddenly, the air is sucked out of him. 'What?'

Arthur gives a light, airy laugh, he can't find the words to adequately express all that he is feeling but he is so happy; Francis can hear that clearly enough. 'I got a house. Fuck, Francis- I got a house.'

Francis leans heavily against the wall, he is in the corridor of the geology building, where he'd run to when Arthur called. His tongue feels thick in his mouth, moving it is hard. 'Congratulations. Why'- why you, why you and not me, don't leave me behind '-how did you get one so quickly?'

Arthur snorts dismissively. 'God knows, I applied the same time as you.'

Why does this hurt him so much? Why is this so hard to deal with? They'd both applied, Francis himself had been the one to collect the forms for them both from the Commons building so why did the prospect of it actually happening cause him to feel as though he'd just swallowed a brick?

'When do you get to move in?' He manages through a jaw made of stone. He can't seem to move his eyes from the window; a bird sits on a branch on the tree to the right and the sun glints on its eyes as it turns and Francis- Francis can't, he-

'We're allowed to next week, but we can go and have a look at it tomorrow.'

'We?'

There's a choking sound and Arthur doesn't speak for a while. Francis has to prod him to make sure he's still there. 'Arthur?'

'I- I mean, well I wasn't going to say it now and I suppose it doesn't really matter either way if you don't want, but I was thinking, you know, because it already works, as it is, our housing situation that is, so it makes sense to but of course it's up to you-'

'Arthur,' despite himself, despite his brain screaming at him not to jump to conclusions, there's a smile on his face and Francis finds himself daring to wonder if maybe... 'Arthur are you asking me to move in with you?'

There's a funny little noise on the other end. 'W-well I'm not asking anything, I'm just saying that seeing as we already manage to live together without killing each other that it would help other people who are waiting for a house, if we shared one, that is. Not that I'm expecting you to say yes, of course, but-'

'I'd love to.' Francis can't stop himself from grinning and ducks his face down to stare at his shoes in case any of his colleagues see him looking so giddy.

'Well,' starts Arthur, 'good, I suppose.' A pregnant pause. 'Bye.'

With that, he's gone and Francis is left alone, smiling stupidly at his feet.

They move in together, into their nice little house, and despite there being two bedrooms and despite what he had said, Arthur sleeps in the same bed as Francis does; there are flowers in the kitchen and e-frames everywhere and Francis feels that void inside of him shrink and close, little by little.

……………………………………………………………………

After two years of being mostly feeling as though his legs have turned to jelly and his stomach lead, Ludwig is more than a little overwhelmed to hear that they're going to be landing within days. He hears about it over the intercom and on his e-tab newsfeed before Gilbert bursts through the door with delighted whoops. His brother never had been good at being cooped up, on the space station at least he could take his shuttle and go on drives with his friends but on a big voyage with a time constraint like this all commercial travel has been stopped, lest anyone get left behind. Not that Gilbert has had enough time to himself do so anything of the sort anyway.

Despite Gilbert's infectious enthusiasm and glee, Ludwig can't quite stop worrying about what if. What if they've come all this way for nothing? What if, after all Gilbert has given up, despite what he says about the matter, he can find no rest on Earth either?

He doesn't have much chance to worry too much though because before he knows it they've stopped and Gilbert is throwing things into cases whilst Ludwig does his bit folding clothes and generally tidying up after the whirlwind his brother leaves behind.

The day they're moved from ship to shuttle, belongings already sent ahead, is luckily a good day. Ludwig and his stomach feel perfectly fine, well enough to stay and move about as normal, and more than capable of pulling his brother back from where he tries to crane over people's heads to get to the window. He pulls him down to sit and wait, legs jittery and foot jumping where he's resting it on his knee.

Gilbert looks first at it, then at him, and grips his shoulder tightly. 'It'll be awesome, you'll see.'

'Hmm.' Ludwig's sure it will and Gilbert's right, if nothing else just seeing and experiencing Earth is worth coming all this way. But he hopes that's not the only thing that they gain from this.

Gilbert understands and doesn't press him for more, instead he claps him on the back and then manages to control himself and sit still, letting Ludwig process things in his own time.

All too soon, the clouds obscuring the view from the windows clear to show expanses of green growing ever larger. A collective gasp goes up from the people in the shuttle as people catch sight of it and Ludwig momentarily forgets to be concerned because he himself is drawn in by the sight. Such a colour, and so much of it; how anything can be this beautiful is beyond him. He comes to his senses because Gilbert is breathing noisily in his ear where he's leant into Ludwig's space to see.

He turns to brush him away in irritation and there it is; a jolt and they've landed.

There's silence. No one knows quite what to do, it's not quite registered yet and so everyone just sits spellbound in their seats, hands gripping whomever's next to them. Their driver, or one of them, opens the door to the passenger cabin and informs them that they can disembark and suddenly there's a massive scramble of movement as people rush to the doors. Gilbert and Ludwig wait for the worst to pass and then they stand cautiously before making their way to the door. Gilbert goes first and Ludwig stands still, watching for a second before stepping out of the door, away from artificial gravity and onto solid ground.

Oh.

Ludwig gasps sharply. There's such a pressure, such a force pushing him to the ground that it takes him a moment to balance himself. Looking up he can see people ahead of him staggering into the Arrival's building, legs bent and head bowed to watch their toes. Gilbert is no better, he is picking up one leg at a time, lifting it high experimentally before placing it back down again and moving forward. He looks like he's just shat himself from the back, but when he stops and spins about to search for Ludwig the look on his face is ecstatic.

Ludwig grins back giddily because he's aware, all at once like a light turning on, that he feels amazing. More than that, he feels invincible. His legs are already aching with the stain and want to buckle beneath him but his stomach, his blessed fucking stomach is steadier than he's ever felt it. Is this how people are supposed to feel? Is this how people feel everyday; what 'normal' feels like? He swings his head to look behind him at their shuttle, then back to Gilbert and laughs out loud because the Earth stays still. It doesn't swing and pitch, his head doesn't buzz and his stomach doesn't turn not even slightly and Ludwig throws back his head and laughs.

Gilbert comes rushing back to him, or as fast as rushing his legs can currently do for him, and tackles him into a tight hug, shaking him from side to side and squeezing the air out of him.

'Yeah? Yeah?'

Ludwig presses his wet eyes and smile into his brother's shoulder and manages a soft, watery, 'yeah.'

Gilbert sniffs wetly and releases one arm to scrub at his eyes. 'Fuck. Fuck Lud, that's awesome.'

Ludwig doesn't even try to compose himself. 'Yeah.'

3 notes · View notes

bumbershots · 4 years ago

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A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FOUR: SILENCE COMES AND GOES

Author’s note: Hello! We continue with this, I would like to thank everyone once again for all the likes and reblogs the story has gotten so far, couldn’t be happier! Enjoy (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.9K **

It is possible that Harry is ignoring the big elephant in the room, as he spreads some jam in his crumpet, well aware of Fernando and Jack exchanging knowing looks. He takes a bite of the savoury treat and hopes none of them dare to confront him, at the same time he wants to be questioned about why he hasn't called Alma yet.

Harry spent the last two weeks grumpy and frustrated.

He's called his therapist way too many times. He has no idea where he went wrong in his healing process. They were back to square one, whispered his tired heart.

Jack is surprised too, his friend got on so well with Alma at the party and apparently even went the extra mile asking for her number then he spent the following fourteen days acting as if she didn’t exist. Didn't even text her like Gemma suggested. He sips his coffee and sighs for the millionth time that day.

The musician is infuriated at himself and desperate that he wants to have Fernando demand an explanation for his behaviour towards his sister. Harry's not a confrontational guy, but he's going mad. Might be losing it. He wanted to scream at the two men before him that he did plan on calling Alma, but then he got so sad. Now he's afraid it's too late.

"Do you want another one?" Fernando holds the plate with crumpets in front of Harry who takes one more and thanks him before grabbing the jam. "Do you reckon you'll be man enough to call my sister within the next couple of days?" Harry chokes on his food while Jack's laughter booms through their home.

Nobody has ever called him out like that. Harry's still unsure whether to be grateful or scared. Maybe a bit of both he thinks after composing himself again from the fit of coughs, he knows Fernando is still waiting for an answer.

"Is she upset about it?" A hint of relief and pride linger on Harry's voice. Jack shakes his head, knowing that he's avoiding the question. Something he's very good at.

"That's not what I asked." Fernando's clipped tone leaves no room for the musician to beat around the bush anymore.

"I was really nervous about calling her, kept putting it off until days turned into weeks... I'm not sure how to go about it," he plays with his rings and looks away from the inquisitive gaze of his companions.

"How did you get Taylor to go out with you?"

"What?" Harry and Jack ask at the same time.

"You must've asked her I guess," Fernando shrugs. "What is so scary about Alma that puts you off? Are you interested in just a shag and you're worried she'll decline or tell the media about it?" Harry is shaking his head vigorously and the dark haired architect leans a bit closer towards him, "you're so full of sh-”

"Alright let's take a break," Jack's soothing tone brings his house mate back from the rage path he was following. But Harry knew that he was right.

It had been a year already, he moved to a new house, one where his ex never set foot into and still her ghost was everywhere. He has this crazy need to destroy everything that can relate to her. Her favourite cardigan is kept away in a box full of Polaroids and books that are all her.

The real reason why he didn't dare to call Alma is because whatever he felt at the beginning of his previous relationship, or any other one, was at least ten times less intense, than what he was feeling now. Seeing the menace before them, his heart and mind decided to leave him courage-less towards the situation. It's less painful to think what could've been than to know it and see it being taken away from you. Again.

But he deserves to be happy, that's what Gemma reminded him the other day.

"I gotta go," Fernando announces before rising from his seat, walking inside the house and upstairs to his room. Jack tries to tidy up the table a bit, not daring to look at his apparently mute friend. When Fernando comes back down he steps outside to the patio where they had brunch, one last glance to a very ashamed Harry and he sighs. "Brigit's Bakery Classic Afternoon Tea Bus. Alma’s been dying to get tickets but never has the time to actually book it," he explains adjusting his jacket's collar. "It's not too late." With that he turns on his heel and leaves the house.

Harry takes their mugs and places them in the sink, he notices Jack is going around the kitchen putting away the butter and milk in the fridge.

"What are you waiting for Romeo?" The blue eyed man asks, stopping in front of a blushing Harry.

They're both quiet for a minute. Harry's heart is racing and can feel his hands get clammy. He hasn't felt someone's faith in a long time, and he's not sure if he's happy or pressured that Fernando and Jack are pushing him to call Alma, he doesn’t even know if she will give him a chance. Harry's wishing to be the kind of guy to take out his mobile and make the call, maybe even crack a witty joke that will have Alma laughing in that loud way he remembers and not be awkward with asking her out on a date. As if he wasn't completely mortified by being rejected.

Harry was sure he would ruin it, not just the call but the date and everything else that was actually going to happen between them without even trying first.

"Hello?" She answers after the third ring, confused at the unknown number calling her.

"Yeah it's me," Harry nods to Jack who urges him to finish whatever sentence he's trying to form, "I believe I owe you some coffee."

"Harry?" Alma tries to fight back a laugh. A wide smile splitting her face after recognising who is the mystery caller.

"Yes! Sorry I forgot you didn't have my number." Jack is red with second hand embarrassment for his friend and decides to start the dishwasher just to keep his eyes from the train wreck happening in his kitchen. "I'm sorry for not calling sooner."

"You're calling now, 's all that matters... I'd love to get that coffee. Next Thursday works for you?" He nods feverishly and remembers he's on the phone.

"Of course, I'll pick you up at five if that's alright."

"Make it half past five please, that's when my shift ends. I'll text you the address." She throws the latter smoothly as an excuse to initiate conversation until they meet again and Harry is oblivious about it.

"Sure great, perfect I'm... really looking forward to seeing you," he plays with the tea towel on the counter, his back turned to Jack, a million butterflies fluttering in his stomach when he hears the coy chuckle his confession got out of her. "Have a good day, see you later."

"See you later, Harry" Alma's goodbye is full of hope and endearment, just like the one he got before she walked away from him that morning after Freddie’s birthday party.

After ending the call, he mentally scolds himself for dreading it so much. It went so much better than expected, even got a laugh out of her. Perhaps Harry needed to stop making decisions based upon his fears and more taking in consideration the other person. He always thought he knew best, it's what he's been told for so many years and although he needs to be making big choices most of the time, perhaps now he could share that responsibility. Felt dead nice for a change.

"That wasn't so bad." He admits to Jack before drying the now clean dishes with a towel.

"I'm proud of you, now tell me, where are you guys going for that coffee?" Jack's eyes are full of curiosity and excitement, it's impossible for Harry not to feel a chill go down his spine at the prospect of planning the date. He thinks about what Fernando suggested, but it would be too obvious that it wasn't his idea entirely.

Alma deserves something exclusively planned by him.

"Don't know yet, perhaps somewhere nice and quiet" he ponders and his friend agrees.

Last time Harry had a proper first date was about two years ago or so. He cooked aubergine parmigiana following Jamie Oliver's recipe and baked some biscuits for dessert that he enjoyed with his companion overlooking the Pacific Ocean from his home's balcony. Back then it seemed to be the right choice to keep it low-key, a simple dinner at his, no risk at all to be bothered or watched. But Harry knew that at some point it got old, being overly discreet was easily mistaken for being ashamed of the relationship. That kind of thing can do a lot to someone's confidence, little by little until it's all too much to bear.

If he could only learn not to care about the world's prying eyes.

Harry doesn't want to drag anyone into the scrutiny of the media until he knows it's an incorruptible bond. The inevitable thought of forever, something he believes might not exist for him, at times. He did think Taylor was it, even Kendall for a while, which is why he dated more publicly back then, until she came along and the love Harry felt was so grand it made him overly protective of them. Countless times he tried to explain that this was the first time something was working in spite of all the circumstances that came with his life and he was trying to cherish it, keep it to himself. Nurture it until it was as tough as old boots.

That night was spent writing down ideas for that first date. Number one was The river café, near Putney Bridge, a place free of paparazzi. Number two, Rail house café, lovely spot to share dinner. Number three The sanctuary café, located in a beautiful building with a quirky environment. Number four and his personal favourite Lola's bakery, their service was so warm and intimate, he remembers the cinnamon Chelsea bun and his mouth waters instantly. So, drawing a big circle around the fourth option he smiles before going to bed that night.

Saturday morning finds Harry at his grandparents’ old home, carrying a bag full of ingredients for a vegetarian lasagna he is planning to cook for his grandfather and his mum. He immediately banishes Anne from helping in the kitchen. She observed him follow the recipe, cooking for no longer than ten minutes the garlic, thyme and aubergine, and then crumble over the chilli carefully. He lets her grate the Parmesan when the sauce isn’t thickening and reducing like it was supposed to. With a bump of her hip, she nodded towards a couple of tomatoes, Harry smiled before tipping them in, breaking them with a spoon and five minutes later, the sauce was ready.

His mother is a marvellous woman, like the good son he is, Harry doesn't want to make her sad, ever. The last time he visited her, recently broken hearted, they spent it baking, cooking, eating sweets and drinking hot chocolate at the rear terrace. Once he had enough of moping around, he decided to make it up to her and create good memories from that visit. They explored the local parklands as if it was the first time, shared ice cream, got tipsy on cheap red wine and chatted from dusk till dawn.

A few hours later, after eating the delicious meal and tidying up the kitchen afterwards, Harry watches his mum talking to his grandad, holding his shaky hand in hers and caressing it in a soothing way. The elder man’s Parkinson is getting worse with time, he feels so useless, specially because it affects his favourite people. He wants to know what his mother is thinking when she joins him back in the kitchen. There is some anguish dancing in her kind eyes, but Harry knows better than to push her to share something she is not ready to.

"I have a date next Thursday," he chokes out, in hopes of distracting her, and it works. Anne's head whips towards her youngest child, evidently shocked and yet proud. It's been years since Harry shared that kind of information with her.

"A proper date?"

"Yes," he wants to add how nervous it makes him. "I dunno how serious it'll get... just met her once, properly I mean, we saw each other on the tube's carriage three times prior to it. Coincidentally of course, Gem said it is something straight out of a film."

"Who is she?" His mother is giving him that look, the one that says how giddy she is to know absolutely everything about the person that got her son so skittish, that he started to rearrange the containing of the cupboards entirely.

"Her name is Alma," he doesn't know where to start, if he spills all the ways in which he thinks she is wonderful, they'll end up pulling an all-nighter.

"And she's a...?"

"Cashier during the week, Spanish teacher on the weekends and occasional interviewer for her Youtube channel." Anne raises her eyebrows, impressed and wondering why such a busy girl agreed to go on a date. Must like him a lot of course, she thinks watching her son pour hot water on a mug, and dunking a tea bag in it afterwards.

"Where did you meet her if not on the tube?'' She is curious and weary. This wouldn't be the first time her youngest spawn overlooked certain things from strangers. Very little things in Harry's life were coincidences nowadays.

"Remember Jack Robinson?" his mum nodded, how could she forget the cheeky chap that helped Harry escape almost every night from his dad's house in the summer, just to go skate in Southbank's center until midnight. Anne admitted to not liking the bloke for a while, but gave him another chance after watching him grow into a responsible adult. "He's in charge of my home renovation, extension whatever it is called. Invited me to Freddie's birthday party and she was there." The dreamy look on his eyes when reminiscing the moment brought out a wide smile on his mum's face followed by her loud laughter.

"Oh Harry, you've got that look." it was the truth. He looked completely gobsmacked by his mother's reaction, but he couldn’t deny the peace he felt when knowing that she was already fond of the girl that he couldn’t get out of his mind.

"It’s too soon to tell!” He doesn’t want to dive into it, not yet.

"How did you really meet? I want all the details." Anne asked, taking a seat at the coffee table and Harry told her everything.

From the first glance he stole her way to the last phone call he had yesterday at Jack and Fernando's house, his hands flew several times to tussle his hair and the dimple on his left cheek was exquisite, when telling his mother, how she asked him to dance with her. He spared no detail, from her intoxicating Moschino perfume to her raspy accented voice. By the time he finished, his mum's mug was empty but her heart was full. For so long she wondered if she would ever witness the beauty of Harry in love again and enjoy first-hand the way he spoke about that person in the sweetest manner, the high-pitched tone of his voice when finally admitting how nervous he actually was about this first date.

"Right, well in that case, stop thinking about how everything is going to go wrong." Easier said than done, Harry thinks but nods. "I'm sure whatever you planned will sweep her off her feet." Anne knew how much of a romantic her boy was, he went all out in that department. His best quality and Achilles heel.

"If the cupcakes from that place don't... I could literally do it." Harry plucks a banana from the fruit bowl before them and narrows his eyes when his mum rolls her eyes at him playfully.

His mother's reassurance made him feel less hopeless, the next day when they went to Sheffield's city center, she even picked out a couple of new mugs. 'Just in case we have new visitors at home.' Harry groaned but failed to hide the dreamy look in his eyes, he even crossed his fingers behind his back as he watched her pay for the cups. The thought of Alma meeting his mother in the near future —and the rest of his loved ones— excited him to an unfamiliar degree, like the first time he saw the seaside with his own eyes at a very young age, like that time he sang in front of a considerable amount of people, like a warm hug of his late grandmother. The idea that she may like him enough to agree to a second date is stuck on his brain, despite that they haven't even survived the first one.

Anne saw him enjoy himself the rest of that afternoon and the next morning before he had to go back to London. She sighed and watched him drive away, standing in her front door for a few more minutes, rejoicing on the memory of Harry's toothy grin. Usually she was careful and waiting for the other shoe to drop, but not this time. There was a bit of certainty in the unfamiliar situation, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, she decided to patiently wait and see. She hummed a familiar tune while putting away the new additions to her crockery. The same song her son decided to play on his journey back home.

Qué será, será. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Qué será, será.

///

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///

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tazzytypes · 4 years ago

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Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 5

Hey y’all! Thanks for your continued support. I love reading your comments and every like makes me feel more and more confident in my writing ability.

CONTENT WARNING: talk of past abuse and suicide attempts

See the masterpost for more chapters or read on AO3

The salon was unnaturally busy since Langdon arrived. Everyone seemed to have the same idea — keep an eye on those who have met with the man and wait for them to let something slip. Thing is, those who already had their interview relished in the spotlight, not really revealing anything of worth.

It had been three whole days since Langdon arrived and Em could glean nothing from her fellow Purples or even the few Greys that whispered to one other in the hall. They viewed Langdon as the second coming of Christ. She couldn’t blame them. Anything would be heaven when compared to the hell Venable had made for them in the outpost. When she couldn’t harm the Purples, the Greys became her target.

Gallant wasn’t as much of a boast as Em had expected, though he made up for that with smugness masked as humility. He was almost as bad as Coco… though that shouldn’t be much a surprise.

“So…” Coco started, using the same tone she had with Em the night before, “how do you think it went?”

Gallant was stretched out like a cat on the sofa, leaning back and grabbing a glass of water from the tray of the nearest Grey.

“I think it went rather well,” he said, cradling his drink as a smile pulled across his face, “and I expect another interview very soon.”

Em sighed and glanced over at Andre and Dinah. They had closed ranks, keeping to themselves. Dinah would do anything to protect herself and her son. If it came down to it, Em wondered how far she would go to survive or if she would give in to the call of the void and jump off the roof.

Em had yet to have her interview… an official one, at least. It made her anxious, being one of the few Purples that had yet to sit with Langdon in his office. It was probably his intention, a fact that did little to comfort her. Her heart still raced in her chest at the thought of dying in this tomb. Her fear of life was at war with her fear of death and she was just waiting for one of them to win.

She was used to the anxiety, though it was difficult to manage at times. Standing up to Venable had been good practice for her nerves though her heart still fell to her stomach every time she dared raise her voice. Old habits die hard, she supposed.

Em scoffed at her own train of thought, a small amused smile coming to her lips as she turned her attention away from the group and towards the ever-burning inferno in the fireplace. It reminded her of that one scene in The Avengers when Bruce Banner turned back and said, “That’s my secret — I’m always angry.”

Replace the anger with anxiety and you’d be able to describe her since the day she was born — an anxious ball of nerves.

Around her, they all spoke of interviews, never giving out too much information and repeating the same things over and over and over. Em had seen high-school students after AP exams with more nerve than them. Langdon had to expect talk, literal life and death be damned. Secrets were hard to keep and harder to hide.

“I just wish there was a Buzzfeed quiz that could at least give a hint at what our fate will be,” Coco bemoaned. Like Em, she had yet to have an interview. The brunette had yet to work out how she felt being put into a similar category as the young heiress.

“The Victorians used to have a game,” Em spoke, closing her eyes as a buzzing fill her head. She rejoined the group, hoping conversation would make it go away. “Women would hold a candle and a mirror and walk down the stairs backward. They’d look through the mirror to see behind them and it was said one would either see the love of their life or their death.”

Em chuckled to herself and looked at Emily, “though given the number of death-by-stairs of that era the irony is—”

The idea, despite her sarcasm, quickly caught on. Any idea to past the time was a good idea, these days — more so given the circumstance. Emily had roped Em into joining the Bloody Mary-esk game.

First to go had been Coco, naturally. Next was Gallant, then Dinah. Andre had refused to join. A game of love and death wasn’t fun when you lost one to the other. Thus, Em found herself standing at the top of the stairs, staring pleadingly at Timothy and Emily to spare her.

The candles of the salon had been put out, leaving only the candles of the upper balcony to light their way. The darkness was still enough to make her uncomfortable. Em felt like she was alone again, screams coming from her phone as the walls shook around her. She liked her nightmares to stay in her sleep.

“Really?” Em groaned as Timothy held out a mirror and candle, “Why can’t I just go to the library and—”

He was grinning clearly enjoying himself, “consider it karma.”

“If I die I will haunt your ass.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts?”

Em opened her mouth to retort only to be cut off from someone down below.

“Don’t be a pussy!” Coco called from the bottom of the stairs, followed by chuckled from her fellow Purples waiting below. Em sent a scathing look towards her friends.

“Alright!” she relented, taking the objects from Timothy, “Fine!”

With a smile, Emily came forward and gently eased her friend to the first step.

“Have fun,” she whispered, far too amused.

“Oh, fuck off,” Em muttered, smiling despite herself.

Em used one foot to feel for the edge of the step. Suddenly, memories of being a little girl in gymnastics flew through her mind, feeling for the bar underneath her feet, falling to the hard mat below that smelled like feet. She had quickly learned she wasn’t one for the sport.

She was pulled from autopilot by a flash of gold in the mirror, startling her just enough to miss the step ever slightly, her ankle bending awkwardly and causing her to fall down the last few steps. She could hear the mirror shatter as hands came to steady her fall. Instincts made her favor saving the candle over the wounded ego that awaited her below. If this place were to burn a few bruises would be the least of her concerns. The thought of it alone scared her half to death, the menace of fireplaces and large skirts with far too many layers.

It took a moment for Em to realize she was on solid ground, quickly jumping back from the hands that were resting on her arms. Langdon stood there, unfazed and patient as a saint. His hands returned behind his back as he let her gather her bearings.

The room was silent, everyone watching with wide eyes. Emily stood at the top of the steps, mouth still wide with a gasp behind her hands. Langdon seemed to be waiting for her to speak, waiting for anyone else to break to silence. He wanted to see who would break.

“Well that’s one hell of an entrance,” Gallant said with a laugh, leaning on the banister next to Coco and the rest of the Purples.

Em and Langdon simply stared at one another. She saw his lip quirk ever slightly when the hairdresser spoke — annoyance.

Langdon finally spoke, ignoring the man behind him, “It’s time for your interview.”

He strode past her and she followed. She may have a rocky relationship with life, but she was no fool.

--------------------------------------

Sitting in that chair made her feel like she was about to be swallowed whole. If not for the corset holding her spine as straight as a ruler, she’d be tempted to slouch into it and allow herself to be consumed.

Langdon liked to let things sit, she realized. Sometimes the best first move was no move at all. The anxiety in her made her want to fill the silence, spare herself from doing nothing as he pulled out his files. Her toe tapped in her shoe, but that was all the fidgeting she’d allow herself to do. Everything was a test. For once, her anxiety was serving her well.

Tossing a file on the desk he took a seat across from her. His hands rested on the arms of his chair and he leaned back, cocking his head as he watched her.

“What is your sexual orientation?” he finally asked.

“Flexible.”

He almost seemed to smirk, but the lights liked to play tricks on her, “I require a more specific answer… you understand.”

“I’m on the asexual spectrum,” she answers, “but I am romantically interested in both men and women.”

“So you have no desires of the flesh?”

“An idea is better than reality. It’s a spectrum and...it’s complicated.”

He leaned forward on his chair, “so you do experience attraction.”

“Emotionally, yes, but I’ve found relationships to be… stressful.”

This seemed to intrigue him, his head turning. It kind of reminded her of a dog, narrowing in on a sound or a curiosity.

“Stressful?”

Of all the questions — of all the tics to have...damn her anxious rambling.

“Like I said,” Em repeated, “ideas are better than reality. I’ve tried the whole…”

She gestured to nothing in particular, “… dating thing. Every time I try and get into a relationship it just feels… wrong.”

Langdon looked down at the file he had out, “and when was your last relationship?”

Em sighed, “Is that really important?”

“Let me be very clear,” Langdon spoke, voice betraying his aggravation as he placed both hands on the desk, “Your success in these interviews depends on your honesty. If you hedge, I will know. If you lie, I will know. If you try to trick me, I will know, and this interview will be over.”

“And I’ll die,” she finished for him, “suspected as much.”

“Good,” Michael said with a nod, retreating back in his seat, “now, as to my question.”

Em waved a dismissive hand, “My last date was just a while before the bombs. Didn’t work out.”

Langdon’s face was once again an iron and unreadable mask as he wrote something down. The corner of his lip twitched as if he hadn’t gotten the answer he wanted.

“What?” She found herself asking him, “I thought such an answer would please you — narrow down the pool of survivors to those... better at those sorts of things..”

His eyes trained on the file, giving Em the sense that he was more focused on it that her words, “Just because you have no desire to copulate with a man doesn’t mean you can’t repopulate.”

Em could only shake her head, “god, you make childbirth sound worse than I imagine it to be.”

“There are no gods here,” he was quick to correct, “this is the apocalypse. Those who survived the fire have been abandoned.”

This time Em cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowing ever slightly as she tried to figure him out, “for a man who seems so opposed to the thought of god you certainly know your bible facts.”

Michael smirked and clicked his pen, bringing the file to his lap, “only the parts that interest me.”

He quickly went back to questioning her, voice sounding more robotic as he read the question word for word.

“How, exactly, do you feel about childbirth?”

He looked up at her as she paused, a brow raising at her silence. Em bit her lip as she considered what to say, hands reflexively going to her hair as he continued to stare.

“It terrifies me,” She admitted, “but luckily the brain masks the memory of it due to trauma.”

“What about it terrifies you?”

She thought such an answer would be obvious, “The pain.”

Once again he seemed interested in her words, expression full of judgment, “you fear pain?”

“I’d be foolish not to.”

“Some would argue that it is a sign of weakness,” he noted.

“Courage is not the ability to be fearless, but to continue on despite the fear,” she told him, voice steady with the words she had told herself a million times before, “we fear pain because that fear keeps us alive.”

“What else do you fear?” He asked, once again leaning forward.

“Quite a few things,” Em said, leaning back in her chair as she became more comfortable. Rambling was equally a tic and a coping mechanism. Langdon intended to that to his advantage. “Some rational… some irrational.”

“Such as?”

“Rational or irrational?”

“Either.”

“Spiders, roaches,” she lists, looking up at the ceiling as she thought, “typical, I know. Then again, roaches may have survived this nuclear winter so perhaps not so irrational as one would think.”

The amusement seemed to return to Langdon’s eyes. He dipped his head down to hide his expression from her, but she had already seen enough.

“…Dolls,” she admitted after a pause, “creepy little things.”

He didn’t move to speak so she filled the silence for him, “Psychologists say it’s because they are not quite human. Our minds can’t decide between viewing them as objects or beings… subconscious and all that. The uncanny valley, I think they call it.”

Her voice trailed off. She knew how she sounded rambling off facts. Langdon looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Deeps waters so dark you can’t see your feet,” She continued to list, voice growing more distant the deeper she dove into her own mind, “yelling men, death.”

“What about death scares you?”

Silence, then finally an answer, “Becoming nothing.”

“You don’t believe in god.”

Not a question. Em sighed. This was always a difficult conversation to have. “I believe that I cannot claim there is a god.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am mortal... human”

Langdon hummed, jotting something down before he looked back to her. They both sat in silence until Langdon broke from her gaze, flipping through the files. No doubt hunting for more questions.

“Does it really feel like falling asleep?” She asked before she could think, “the poison in those vials?”

“Why would I lie to you?” he countered, offense glinting in his eye as he looked up at her.

“It’s not that you lie,” She corrected, shaking her head, “but that you don’t know the truth yourself. Lethal injections were supposed to be painless, but they merely gave the appearance of a calm death.”

“The pain… and nothingness,” he notes, referencing her previous words, “...things you fear... You seem quite convinced of a void-like afterlife.”

“I tried to kill myself when I was young.” She admitted, not sure why. The words just left her.

Langdon halted in his actions. His voice was quiet, almost sympathetic. “How young?”

“Which time?”

He was quick to change the conversation, raising to his feet and crossing the room. Em didn’t take her eyes off him, partly out of intrigue and partly out of paranoia. There was a table with a water pitcher and some glasses. He filled up two and turned around, stopping by her chair and holding out one of the glasses.

Hesitant, she reached out and took it from his hands. Langdon noted she made special care not to touch his hand.

“You’ve spoken of fear... But what about your anger?” he prompted, choosing to lean against the desk instead of returning to his chair. Em waited for him to take a sip of his drink before she did.

“The two are often related,” she noted.

“That they are.” He agreed before insisting, the fire in the room more prominent in his eyes, “tell me... what enrages you?”

“Generally?” She countered, “or specifically?”

He smiled and shook his head, “either.”

“Anger and any emotion come at random. It cannot be controlled.”

“Have you ever lost control?”

“Yes, but it was long ago.”

“How long?”

“I was a child,” she said, frowning as she was forced to remember bits of her past she had buried long ago… burned from her mind, “yet to learn that anger is fine as long as you know how to manage it.”

“What did you do?”

“Tried to bash someone’s head into a concrete floor,” she told him with a frown. It certainly wasn’t one of her finer moments. One that she regretted deeply.

“What was their crime?” Langdon pressed, far too amused than was healthy. He really was insistent about everything, wasn’t he?

She looked to her glass as she pulled the memory out, a rueful grin pulling at her lips, “stealing a dress-up shoe.”

When she looked up at the man she couldn’t help but laugh, a short laugh but a laugh none the less. It threw the man off, staring at her like she had grown an extra head.

“That amuses you?”

“You’re expression,” she said, “you were obviously expecting something more. I was a child, in my defense.”

“And when you weren’t a child?”

He watched as something flashed in her eyes, a familiar fire. Langdon’s face suddenly wasn’t all that amusing.

“I learned that violence isn’t the only way to hurt someone.”

“But certainly is the most satisfying,” he sighed, taking another sip of water, “wouldn’t you agree?”

“A martyr would see their death as a triumph,” Em reasoned, “to deny them that death would be far more painful.”

“And your father,” he noted, closing the file. Em’s jaw clenches at the mere mention of the man. Langdon knew he hit an Achilles heel. “What punishment is worthy of him?”

Em stared at the file before him. She wasn’t stupid. He probably had any and all documentation of her life from therapy sessions to many angry written tweets.

If she was being honest, she hadn’t thought of the man since the apocalypse. There were more threatening dangers than a narcissistic, vile —

Her answer comes quicker than Langdon expected. Her eyes meeting his full of hate and fury.

“To spend the rest of his days slowly rotting from radiation. To be helpless and forced to face that even the smartest men are at the whims of the world around them.”

This was the answer he was looking for.

He was looking right into her mind and reading her thoughts... or at least that’s how it felt. Langdon was diving deep into the parts of herself she buried down, raising them up like some sort of psychological necromancer.

“Fascinating,” He leaned forward with a sadistic grin. “Tell me more about him.”

The tenseness in Em’s body was no longer from anxiety, but restraint. The mere mention of that man was enough to make her see red. There was a reason she hated Venable. The over-seer was far too similar to the man she’d prefer to forget.

“I’d rather not,” she told Langdon, hoping he’d let it rest. She wasn’t even surprised at his pushing.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because remembering gives him more power over my life than I want him to have!” She snarled, a pale, tightly clenched fist coming to slam into the arm of her chair. It sat there for a moment before shaking fingers curled away from the palm of her hand.

His hand reached out to hers, curled around the arm of her chair like a claw. The blond waited for her tension to cease, the white around her knuckles to disappear.

“What did he do to you?”

Her rage quickly returned and she snatched her hand from the man, hissing “What does that have to do with survival?”

“A great deal,” he explained, unfazed as always, “our past traumas can be indicative of future actions.”

He let her seethe in silence. She knew she would not be able to leave the room until she gave him the answer he wanted.

“The first memory I have of him,” she proceeded, speaking slowly as the words threatened to rip her apart, “he grabbed my arms so tight I thought they’d break and screamed at me after I dropped a glass of milk.”

“How old were you?”

She shook her head and offered a half-hearted shrug, “the counters were taller than I was.”

When she finally leaned back in her seat all Langdon could see was a scared shell of a child trying to hide from the bogey-man. What would emerge from the tightly wrapped cocoon of trauma? Or had the creature already spread its wings?

“What else?”

Langdon’s voice was gentle, but she was not buying the act.

“Isn’t that enough!” she snapped, “Every word that left my mouth and every step I took was like walking on eggshells.”

She shook her head, a buzz beginning to fill her body, “and I wish I broke more of them instead of being afraid. I wish I-”

Langdon rounded her chair and squeezed her shoulder, the other pulling out a handkerchief and holding it out to her. She only pulled away from his touch.

“You don’t like physical affection,” he noted.

“Not from strangers.”

Langdon took a step back, curling the handkerchief around his fingers as he returned them behind his back.

“A physical examination is also required,” he said, voice back to the no-nonsense tone he addressed everyone with. “I can call Venable if you prefer but we both know she would not be fair in her examination.”

“My mom was a nurse,” Em said, turning to the man who stood just to her right, “A physical exam doesn’t mean what you are implying. So unless you’re going to test my blood and record my weight for your file —”

“Your file says you have a history with illness,” Langdon noted, grabbing it off his desk.

“Father smoked when I was a kid. Didn’t care about his own lungs and certainly didn’t care about mine.”

“What about your migraines?” he asked, reading down the list.

“Not terrible, but not entirely pleasant, either.”

“And your depression?”

Em scoffed, “it’s the end of the world. We’re all depressed.

Closing the file, he tossed it back onto his desk, “you’re the only one here that does not have a companion.”

Emotionally and physically tired, Em was ready for the interview to end. Survival or not, the line of questioning was lengthy and intense.

“We’re all companions,” She said, forcing a smile she usually saved for customer service or Coco, “are we not?”

“Not in a deep manner,” he noted, “Venable has Mead, Coco has Gallant, so on and so forth. Perhaps not the companions they wished for, but companions none the less.”

“I have Emily.”

Langdon shrugged, sitting in his chair like a kind on his throne. “When she’s not with Timothy.”

“You seem to watch us quite closely.”

“I’m tasked with choosing the people who keep the human race alive.” He said, enthusiastically gesturing to the world around them with a small turn, “I must comb through the choices with a fine-toothed comb.”

The blond had expected tears from her. He had worked his way up to the most important questions, the most emotional scarring memories… but she sat there, dry-eyed and looking like she’d rather toss him into the nearest fireplace than deal with any more of his questions.

“I am content with my own company,” She insisted.

He came back to her seat and caged her in her seat, hands on either armrest, “I thought we agreed not to lie, Emily.”

Nostrils flaring and eyes full of fire, she leaned forward until she was almost nose to nose with the man, gaze unwavering, “I’m not lying.”

He eyed her up and down in a way that made her feel like he was looking into her head or skinning her alive with his mind. Finally, he retreated. “Loneliness emanates from you in waves.”

“I said I was content in my own company, not that I liked being alone.”

Langdon’s brows knitted together, “are they not the same thing?”

“They are intertwined,” she told him, “but can exist separately. Thoreau wrote about it… Solitude I think he called it.”

“Are you lonely?”

“I think we all are… some of us just deal with it better than others.”

“And how are you dealing with it?”

He seemed to cling onto her words when she spoke. Timothy, Emily, and herself loved to speculate on philosophy and the nature of their own humanity, but the other two were more of scientific minds than poetic. Talking to Michael… well, she didn’t know how to feel.

“One must learn to be content with their own company before they can be content in the company of others,” Em said, “I try to think of it as some sort of test of character.”

“But are you content?”

Em smiled at the question, whatever doubt or anxiety in her bones completely gone and replaced with something Langdon couldn’t quite place.

“Never.”

-------------------------------------------

“Thank you for your time,” Landon said, holding the door open for her to leave.

The interview had felt like an eternity and an instant all at once. Em kept her distance from him as she passed through the door.

“Is that a genuine sentiment or a warning of my possible demise?”

Langdon smirked, “it’s whatever you want it to be.”

She scoffed. It was a stretch to expect any answers from the man. He went to speak once more, but something down the hall caught his attention down the hall.

Stepping back, his features went blank. “Until next time.”

Em glanced down the hall to see Emily just standing there, lips twisting as she waited for her friend to get closer. When the brunette glanced behind her, she found the door to Langdon’s office closed. Lips pressing into a thin line, she made her way over to Emily.

As soon as Em was within reach, Emily was pulling at her arm and glancing over her shoulder like Langdon was hot on their heels.

“How was your interview?” she asked.

“How was yours,” Em countered with a smile which quickly fell as she saw her friends face. “… what’s going on?”

Already tripping over her own feet as Emily tugged her along, she nearly toppled over as the girl pulled her into a nearby room. Em had barely a moment to right herself as her friend shut and locked the door behind them.

“We have… varying opinions,” Emily finally answered, glancing at Timothy. Em nearly jumped at the sudden presence of the boy leaning against a table with his arms crossed. It looked like a sort of break room… or at least where Venable was staring excess tables and chairs. There was a surprising lack of order to the objects strewn about… definitely storage.

Em righted herself, brushing out her skirt as she looked between the pair. “Which are?”

“Emily thinks we should make a run for it.”

“Timothy!”

Em sighed and looked to the heavens for guidance as Emily stared daggers at her boyfriend. She had planned to gradually work up to her proposal, but Timothy wanted to get this over with before anyone noticed their disappearance.

“That sounds like a terrible idea.” Em sighed. Timothy made a small gesture to her before giving Emily a look that screamed ‘I told you so.’

“Langdon survived!” Emily tried to reason, looking between the pair, “so can we!”

“Langdon has access to more resources than we do,” Em said.

“We’re smart. We can—”

“Figure it out? Emily, we can’t even figure out how our own outpost is run and, trust me, I’ve tried.”

Emily was exasperated, looking at the other two as if they had lost their fucking minds.

“We can’t just sit here and wait to die!”

Em pinched her brow, feeling the buzzing feeling return once more, “I’m not putting my life on the line to play hero like were in some YA novel.”

“That’s what I said,” Timothy sighed.”

Emily was livid, gaping for a moment before throwing her arms up in anger. Her hands came to rest upon her head as she paced back and forth.

“What’s with you two?” She demanded, gesturing violently at Em, “you practically jump at the opportunity to oppose Venable!”

“This is bigger than airing someone’s bullshit,” Em said, trying to keep her voice even and calm, “It’s suicide. Have you forgotten the state of the world?”

“Have you forgotten the world?” Emily countered, “it wasn’t great but there were rules, opportunity… order.”

Timothy could only look between the two women as they engaged in debate. Things were stressful enough. Last thing they needed was to tear the other apart.

“I’m not saying our situation is great. But if we try to leave, we die. Plain and simple.”

“Not if we have a plan,” Timothy finally spoke, both girls finally turning to face him.

“Langdon…” He spoke, taking a moment to find the words, “there’s something wrong about him. I don’t trust him.”

Em scoffed, blood still boiling, “tell us something we don’t know.”

“Those snakes were dead!” He exclaimed. Em’s lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn’t wrong, but none of them could even begin to find out what it meant… if it meant anything at all.

“So Langdon is a necromancer,” Emily sighed, shaking her head at the absurdity of this new argument, “how does that change anything?”

“We don’t have to die here,” Timothy said, looking between the two, “we wait and then follow him to the sanctuary.”

“And how do we get in?” Em said, nose scrunching as she thought of a million ways the plan could go wrong, “security protocols here sound an alarm if you simply come within a football field distance of the outpost.”

“How do you—?”

The brunette waved a dismissive hand, “it helps to be nice to the prison guards.”

“We need to act,” Emily emphasized for what felt like the hundredth time.

“We need to get all the facts!” Timothy countered.

“We need to wait!” Em snapped. She was tired and emotionally spent and done with this conversation. “I don’t want to die without a fight, but we need to keep our heads low. It’s barely even been a week. We’ve all only had one interview.”

“Time is running out,” Emily hissed, leaning on the table and looking like she was going to strangle the girl on the other side.

“Time will run out faster if anyone hears a single word of this conversation! I won’t die because of a misstep!”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Mine!” Em practically shouted, “just like everyone else in this fucking place!”

Emily scoffed, stepping back and crossing her arms, “so we’re just scraps.”

“That’s not what she’s saying,” Timothy reasoned, reaching out for his girlfriend who only pulled away from his touch.

“Whatever,” she huffed, rounding the table and glaring daggers at Em as she stormed out of the room, “if you won’t do something, I will.”

The buzzing in Em’s head intensified as Emily slammed the door shut behind her. She rose a hand to ease the headache that threatened to appear, a flash of light exploding behind her eyes. For a moment she swore she saw something — Emily and Timothy… eyes staring blankly at the ceiling with foaming mouths.

Em moved towards the door, hoping to try and reason with the other girl, but was stopped by a hand on her arm. Timothy smiled at her, expression pity-filled and tired.

“I’ll talk to her.” He reassured, “Don’t worry.”

Em could only sigh, “I don’t want her to die a martyr, but if we act too hastily that’s what she’ll become.”

“Just let her cool down. Her interview… all our interviews have us on edge.”

------------------------------

Em stared up at the ceiling as she laid in her bed. She used to do that back when the world was alive, listen to the passing cars and people outside her window… the birds chirping and the breeze dancing through the trees. Now there was just silence… so much she could hear her blood pounding in her ears. Desperately, she tried to recall the sounds — like the faces of the dead, they had faded from her mind.

The fight with Emily had her worried. Friends fought… that was just reality and you couldn’t spend a year and some change in quarantine with someone and not get annoyed with them at some point. But this fight… it wasn’t over something simple — a tendency to be late or forgetting a birthday.

With a sigh, Em sat up and stared at the floor instead of the ceiling. This was why she did things on her own. It certainly made executive decisions easier. The greater good was all Emily cared about, but Em…

She was so tired of sacrificing herself for others… for the grander design. It was what she did all her life. Em kept quiet about her father because he was the only hope she had of getting through college. She let people use her again and again in the name of friendship, draining her dry until there was nothing left but sunken remains.

Michael was right. Everyone else had someone to rely upon. Em had to look after herself.

Em focused on the feel of her hands on her hair, fretting at the ends. She frowned at the roughness of the ends — overdue for a trim. Reaching back towards her desk, Em paused. Venable had confiscated her sewing kit, scissors and all, on the pretense of “hoarding supplies.”

Sitting for a moment, she reluctantly rose to her feet and wandered down the hall. Each step she questioned her judgment, but still, her hand rose to knock at Gallant’s door.

“Ugh,” a voice groaned on the other side, “what?”

Twisting the doorknob, Em poked her head into the room. Gallant had been laying in his bed, now propped up on one side as he looked at her.

“Can I borrow your scissors?” she asked.

He looked her up and down, “why?”

“I want to do arts and crafts,” she found herself saying, deadpan.

The hairdresser’s face contorted into disgust, “those are quality—”

Em rolled her eyes, “calm down, I just want to trim my split ends and the supplied conditioner really isn’t helping.”

Gallant finally rose to his feet.

“Do you even know how to use them?”

“They’re scissors.”

This time he rolled his eyes, wandering over to his vanity and motioning for her to sit down. She eyed him, coming into the room but not moving to the chair.

Gallant sighed, “this is a one time offer.”

“You’re petty, Gallant.”

He shrugged his shoulders, not moving to deny the fact as he arranged his tools, “and?”

“How do I know you won’t make me look like a soccer mom asking for the manager at McDonald’s.”

The man smirked and waved a comb in her direction, “because hair is the one thing I hold sacred in this cesspool of an apocalypse.”

Em eyed him for a moment before wandering over to the chair and sitting down. Gallant looked at her, obviously not expecting her decision. “That was easier than I thought it would be.”

“I know where you sleep.”

She could see Gallant smirking in the mirror, “touche.”

He continued to get his supplies ready before analyzing her hair.

“How was your interview?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Tense. Yours?”

He shrugged, searching through his drawer for something, “alright. I guess. It’s not like we have a basis for comparison.”

“It feels like he’s reading your thoughts,” She found herself saying without thinking.

“Yeah,” Gallant chuckled, “it’s like he has fucking x-ray vision.”

“Remember when they used to have those spy-devices marketed to kids?” Em recalled, earning another amused smile from the hairdresser.

“You think Langdon’s following us around with a nice iPhone attached to a toy car?” Gallant asked, leaning on the back of the chair with his other hand on his hip.

“What if this whole place is bugged?”

“Normally I’d say you sounded like you were on LSD, but I wouldn’t doubt it.” He admitted, “might as well put on a show, right?”

“What if it’s like the fucking Hunger Games and we’re the entertainment.”

Gallant laughed, “this whole thing makes me feel like I’m in an indie-film fest.”

Finally, he began to work on her hair. Hands ran through the locks, figuring out the texture and thickness.

“How is your hair so soft?” He asked, running through it with a comb for good measure.

“Virgin hair.”

“You’re telling me you never styled your hair.”

“I never had to,” Em shrugged, “internet was full of natural solutions.”

She looked up at him without craning her neck, “rag-curls were a godsend.”

Gallant paused and made a face, “but is the stiff neck really worth it?”

“It is if you do it right.”

The man laughed, “I like you.”

They lapsed into silence once again, Gallant getting lost in the task at hand while Em wandered in her own thoughts.

“I used to have a friend who did hair,” She found herself telling him, “just graduated from cosmetology school. We’ve been friends… were friends for almost 11 years.”

Gallant was only partly paying attention to the conversation, “Was she any good?”

“Chopped off my hair right before the bombs dropped,” Em said, a sad smile pulling at her lips, “shit used to be down to my waist.”

“Ballsy,” Gallant approved, “I like it. Feels like I kept getting clients all asking for the same thing over and over.”

“What about Coco?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “I love her, but at the end of the day she’s another straight white girl. They never take risks.”

“To their defense, the first time I got a short cut my stylist made me look like I was wearing a fucking bowl.” Em chuckled, “Took me three fucking years to grow back.”

He fluffed her hair a bit, running a brush through it a couple more times before looking at her through the mirror, “Well, I might not have a mister, but I think I did a damn good job.”

Em smiled, “thanks, gallant.”

“Like I said, hair is my passion,” He took the towel from around her neck and shook it out, ”and working without modern appliances is now a personal challenge.”

She ran her hand through her hair, turning in her chair to look at the man as he put his supplies away, “They did some weird shit for hair in the Victorian era.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“About the hair?”

“About the fact that you know about the hair.”

“Like I said: I’m an insomniac and things get weird on YouTube. You want to hear or not?”

Gallant shrugged, “not like I have anywhere else to be.”

Em smiled and went into her explanation, Gallant sitting on his bed facing her.

“So they used to collect wads of hair from haircuts or just natural shedding and they’d use them either as plats or to give more volume… kind of like those ‘insta-bun’ infomercial stuff—”

Gallant was surprisingly attentive to her words, for once actually listening. Sometimes he’d even ask questions. At some point, he gasped and jumped to his feet.

“You gave me an idea!” he exclaimed, rushing over and turning her to face back towards the mirror, “Stay still!”

“What are you—”

“I need a guinea pig.”

“You’re not going to cut all my hair off, are you?”

“Like you said: you know where I sleep, but,” He mused, “your historical knowledge has given me a way to do this one hairstyle without blow-drying and I want to see if it works.”

Em sighed and looked back towards the mirror, “just don’t make me parade around like a model.”

“Your sacrifice is noted.” Gallant said, “besides, it’s not like there’s anywhere else for you to be.”

--------------------------------

Em scratched at her scalp, still sore from Gallants tugging. The library was quiet, anatomy books scattered around her without a single sight of Timothy or Emily. She imagined the latter was still calming down. God, it hadn’t even been a full day yet.

She looked between the books before her and her sketches. The apocalypse had given her ample time to do studies of all the things she’d always put off. Her sketchbook nearly full, she wondered what she’d do once the final page was completed. At this point, she imagined she didn’t have to worry too much about that.

“You like to read,” A voice mused. This time she didn’t jump, head turning to Langdon as he appeared before her.

“I feel like we’ve already had this conversation.”

He chuckled, “I have to admit, I thought it was performance theater.”

“It’s not like I have a job or anything to pass the time,” she noted, “and there’s no internet.”

Cocking his head, he peered at her drawings from over her shoulder. Em gritted her teeth and tried to not show how much the action bothered her.

“Here to collect me for another interview?” she asked.

He hummed, taking a moment to process her question before responding, “merely observing.”

She closed her sketchbook, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

“Why don’t I believe that?”

Another smile was her only response.

“You never mentioned your mother.”

“I thought you said this wasn’t another interview.”

“I said I wasn’t collecting you for another interview,” he noted, coming to sit in the chair beside her, “I’m simply curious.”

“Your curiosity could lead to my own damnation,” Em turned to face him, her shoulder nearly brushing his, “a way to put me under a fine-toothed comb.”

“Curiosity killed the cat?” he offered.

“I’d use the word ‘murdered,’” she scoffed, “don’t know how the rest of the rhyme would apply, however.”

Langdon wasn’t amused… or at least didn’t let it show, “You’re avoiding the question.”

“Yes,” she said, “last thing I want to do is start in a new world with the shadow of my parents looming over my head.”

“They only loom if you give them the power to do so.”

Em sighed, yielding to her executioner.

“My mother was a co-dependent,” she said, the words rushing out as if they couldn’t get out fast enough, “too afraid to be alone that she’d put up with the worst of men instead of leading a fulfilling life on her own.”

“You blame her,” Michael noted, propping his head on his hand.

“I could have excused the desperation,” Em made abundantly clear, “if she hadn’t emotionally abused me as well — gaslighting and the like.”

“You’d rather be a punching bag?”

“Visible scars are easier to prove in court than those confined to your mind.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching as she rearranged the books. She was doing anything to not meet his gaze.

“What about you?” she finally asked.

His eyes narrowed ever slightly.

“What about me?” he echoed.

“Who is Mr. Langdon?” she asked before gesturing in front of her, “forgive me, I don’t have a file to reference.”

Langdon smirked. He liked this confidence she was showing. It was as if the end of the world had come about so she could thrive, unafraid and confident.

“Are you trying to interview me?” he asked.

“I may be a dead woman in the next few days,” Em reminded, “humor me.”

Langdon leaned forward once more, “What do you wish to know?”

“What do you fear?”

She noted the look wished flashed before his eyes, a memory… unsavory�� traumatic. All Langdon could think of was the voice of Ben Harmon and the wrinkled face of an old woman, the scent of cigarettes and liquor coming from her dead mouth.

“I never could have helped you,” Ben spoke, looking down upon him with disgust.

“Loneliness,” He tells the woman before him, straightening a bit in his chair as he fought to keep the passive facade he wore.

“Fascinating,” she mocked, pulling a smile to his lips, “One would think you are a god, but you are just as human as the rest of us.”

“You think I’m a god?”

“You hold yourself like one,” Em observed, noting his smugness. His smile faded as she went on. “and I don’t mean it as a compliment.”

She watched Langdon’s lips pressed into a thin line, “Then what do you mean?”

“You’re condescending.”

He scoffed, “Gallant is condescending.”

“But he doesn’t hold our lives in his hands— thank god.”

This time she leaned closer to him, mirroring his previous movements and propping her head on her hand, “knowledge is power and you have done a fine job at keeping that knowledge from us.”

His eyes scanned over her face, “it’s for the best of the human race.”

“And what do you believe is best?” she asked, “what world do you envision?”

A smirk crawled back onto his face, “that’s classified.”

This time she studied him.

“You must hold a high position in this sanctuary.” She observed, “higher than Venable… perhaps even those above her as well.”

“And how do you come to that conclusion.”

“Personal opinions aren’t classified,” She leaned back, putting some distance between them, “but opinions of the larger whole are another nature entirely.”

“Or I could be condescending.”

Langdon watched as she smiled ever slightly. It unnerved him… like she had seen something he hadn’t meant her to.

“… Or you could be condescending,” Em echoed. There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. “For someone so afraid of loneliness you seem to have backed yourself into quite the corner.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said. She watched him, completely at ease despite her interrogation. It was as if he always had a knife behind his back ready to impale someone upon it.

“You have some plan, then?”

“If you’re prepared for the worst then you’re ready for the best.”

“A good mentality to live by,” Em nodded, “but speaking of preparation brings up more questions.”

“Such as?”

“This place is made for us to survive the nuclear winter,” she notes, “but it is so unequipped for the task.”

Langdon raised a brow, “you think you could do better?”

“Yes,” she answered quite quickly and resolutely, “natural light, for one.”

“On what electricity?” he prompted.

“Hydro-electricity, wind,” she says, “batteries, even.”

He scoffed, “you make it sound easy.”

“You’re part of a doomsday group,” Em reminded him, “For fuck's sake, even the government has a library of seeds for this situation. Self-sustainability is the most important part of our survival.”

Langdon shook his head and laughed before looking at her once more, “oh, I like you.”

Em eyed him, “I’m afraid I haven’t quite decided if the feeling is mutual.”

“Most of you are so preoccupied with winning I was starting to doubt the efficiency of The Cooperation,” he says, “salivating like dogs over the last bone.”

“Desperation certainly gives insight into true natures.”

“That it does.”

Langdon rose from his seat, straightening out his jacket before walking towards the door, “I look forward to speaking to you again.”

Mulling over his words, Em stayed only momentarily — long enough that she wouldn’t run into the man again on her way out. Though she didn’t put it past him to lay in wait at the door. Collecting the books before her, she began to put them away.

She knew the library like the back of her hand now. Organized it herself. The Cooperative didn’t seem to care what order the books were put in, a testament to their last-minute planning. The brunette didn’t mind it. There was little to do to amuse oneself these days.

When she finally meandered back to the table, she found a book wide open on its surface. Chalking it up to her own forgetfulness she approached, brows furrowing as she realized which book it was.

Turning around, she looked for a sign of any sign of Emily or even Langdon. Mind games were certainly the latter's forte. Every hair on her body was standing on end, goosebumps rising on her arm and she turned and turned, looking for a sign of a single soul.

Finally, heart hammering in her chest, she approached the book. It was opened to another spell she hadn’t noticed before, meant for finding something lost.

“Quod est super me manus quondam sciebant,” she mouthed as she read, “revertere ad me quid suo mihi admondum est alicui licentiam.”

She shrieked as the candles went out around her, an echoing chorus coming from outside the library as a gust of wind raced throughout the outpost. Hands went to cover her head as she crouched on the ground as if she expected the world to cave in around her.

Her heart wanted to burst from her chest, eyes frantically looking here and there only to find nothing.

“Emily?” She called out, voice cracking in fear, “Timothy?”

All she could hear was the screaming voices, begging for salvation. Whimpering, she backed up until she could feel a wall, slowly sinking to the floor as she covered her ears which did nothing to drown out the screaming that echoed in her head.

Timothy was right, something was wrong about this place.

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