#... anyway yes do ignore this i just need to put words to this descent into madness im going thru | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uhgoodmoni · 3 years ago

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I’ll Sleep on the Floor | JJK

Summary: Eunjae (oc) and Jungkook aren’t really friends. Like, at all. Actually Eunjae hates Jungkook’s guts. The real issue is that they both are best friends with Seokjin, who wishes that they would just get over their seemingly petty hatred for one another. So to try and solve that Jin invites them to a trip in Greece. Should be fun in paradise? But paradise turns to disaster when a flight gets delayed... they need a hotel and... There’s only ONE bed??

Warnings: Angst cause I always have angst, some fluff ig, idk this ones pretty chill tbh, implied anxiety

(14,286 words)

Ao3 | Wattpad

With my suitcase trailing behind me, wheels scoring the tiles, I walk towards my gate. The first flight was easy up until the end. I napped restfully the entire time but as we came to Tbilisi International Airport in Georgia, the captain had announced that the descent would have rough turbulence because of the storm that was starting. Rough turbulence indeed, a few storage bins had opened up, allowing passengers belongings to fall to the cabin floor. My items were safe, luckily, but the woman seated in front of me had gotten a book to the face. We landed safely and that really was the only thing to be concerned about. Thunder echoed throughout the airport, the flash of lightning shining through the windows. This was bad, very bad. The second flight I would take, Tbilisi air to Athens air. Would it get delayed? I pray not as I walked towards the gate.

Seokjin and I had planned the trip to the T, the next departure an hour and a half after the time we’d land in Tbilisi. A shame we even had to have a layover but our last minute planning had cursed us with that.

I feel like calling Jin now that I have service. Or wifi anyway. So I pull out my phone as I continue my stroll. The airport here is not as busy as Incheon, but still bustling with more people than expected at 8pm.

“Did you make it?” I smile at Jin’s voice coming through the speaker of my phone, only seventy percent. I should charge it before the next flight.

“No, the plane crashed in a fiery accident and I’m calling from my deathbed.” I glance around, looking for a map, or a guide or something that would tell me if I was headed in the right direction.

“Ah, good to know. The beach is waiting here for you. The sun is setting now.”

I look out the window, “I’ve got bad news.”

“What?” He asks, his voice changing to worry after hearing the change in my own tone. “Has Jungkook’s flight not landed yet?”

I shake my head, “No, no. I don’t know where he is. I haven’t even got to my gate yet.” Looking for Jungkook? As if I could care if his plane landed or not. Hopefully it hasn’t and I can fly the final stretch to Greece alone. “There's a storm, it's thundering and I’m not sure if it is going to stick around or not. I haven't checked if our flight is on time.”

He hums, “Well figure it out and let me know.” I nod, seeing the flight list a little further down, just small enough in my vision not to see it yet. Jin stays on the line as I walk.

I glare up at the lit up sign. “Isn’t it supposed to be clear weather here.” I groan, red sign in Georgian, and next to it in English. Delayed.

“That doesn’t sound good? Delayed?”

I sigh, “Yeah.” I look towards where I think my gate is and see the correct number. A few attendants were talking to passengers. “I’m gonna go find out how long. I’ll call you back.”

He hums and hangs up first, he’s probably upset, he’d already been in Greece the whole day alone. He’d just have to wait. It’s not like I have any other choice.

The passengers are complaining of course, their nags getting to my ears before I am close to the desk. Their questions were “How long really is it?” and “you’re joking right?” But some of the other’s I didn’t understand because they weren’t speaking English or Korean.

I look around the gate, seeing that dreaded face sitting in the waiting area. He smiles at me, but only because he knows I’m unhappy to see him. I try not to let him get to me, and I walk towards him instead of the desk. Surely he already knows. Which I’m sure he does because his face turns to a frown as I get closer.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news.” he mutters as I reach him, standing up to face me. “But the flight is delayed.”

I shake my head. Yeah I already know that. “How long?”

He shrugs, “They haven’t said how long yet.”

“What?” I flip to the attendant at the desk. “How do they not know?”

Jungkook smirks, “It’s nice to see you by the way. And you look just great.” He says, and he’s being sarcastic. I glare and then remember to soften my face because I was sure I looked like a bitch to the poor attendant behind the desk who was already surrounded by Karens.

“Seriously?” I take a deep breath, holding in my feelings that are already about to explode. Fifteen minutes in the airport and only one minute in his presence and I was ready to punch him.

“All I said was that you look great and it’s nice to see you.” He shrugs, that smug grin never leaving his face. “And all you have to say is seriously? Can’t even greet me back?”

I ignore him, seeing an open opportunity to speak with the attendant and slip between the shoulders of two others. “Hi excuse me, this flight is delayed right?”

The person nods, “Yes I am so sorry.” But they don’t say anything else.

“Is it possible you could tell me when it’s going to take off?” I pursue further, but the attendant looks dejected, making me think Jungkook was right.

“Georgia isn’t a country where storms this bad come in. This is probably the worst storm they’ve seen this summer. We just don’t have an exact time right now.”

“You’re joking right?” I sigh to myself, and then cringe realizing I sound like everyone else who is surrounding them. “I’m sorry, actually is there any information that you can give me?”

The attendant frowns, speaking to all of us now. “It’s likely that this flight will be canceled within the hour.” They pull out a map of the airport from under the desk. “For rescheduling you’ll want to go here. They point to a dot on the far end, “It should be easy to get one within the next day or so.” My eyes widen. Day or so? I look back to Jungkook who looks equally as worried.

I thank the attendant and return to my luggage and Jungkook at the benches. “What do we do?”

He glances at the hoard of people heading away from the gate, “Try and get on a flight that’s open I guess.” He sighs, pulling up his phone and dialing for Jin.

I bite my lip, glancing and seeing that the people were all heading off to do the same thing. Our stress-free flight that was planned to the T was no longer in sight. And now the line of those trying to do the same thing as us, would make it take even longer.

“Hey…” I turn to Jungkook who sits back down in the chair. “They are advising us to find another flight. Something for tomorrow or the next day…” He’s talking to Jin, whose voice I hear on the other end. Much more upset than he was earlier. I try and listen in as I sit next to Jungkook, the nagging feeling that I should go get us a spot in line urging me to bite at the inside of my mouth even more. But the line would be long whether I went now or waited with Jungkook.

“Yeah I know… I’m really sorry Jin.” Jungkook says and then faintly I hear an ‘its not your fault’ and then an ‘room service here is good’ I smile at this, hoping that Jin would make the best of our late comings. “We are going to wait until they cancel it and then I guess see what kind of flights there are. I’ll call you then okay?”

I shake my head. He decided for the both of us. I open my mouth as he finally hangs up the phone but he speaks before I can.

“Listen Eunjae, before you get all gripey with me, I think we should wait because if we go and buy new tickets just to find out that this attendant was wrong and the flight doesn’t get canceled that would fucking suck.” My mouth shuts and Jungkook grins. For now I would listen to him.

Twenty minutes later the sign changed to cancel. Jungkooks defeat, not that it brings me joy. But if anything is going to make me smile in this situation it would be that Jungkook is wrong.

“What if they only have one seat?” I grin at the thought of this. “Can I buy the first flight out?” Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Jin might despise you.” He retorts, dragging along one more smaller suitcase than me. I know he was right and stop thinking about the idea. Jin would be furious. Maybe more than Jungkook knew.

Before we had planned the trip Jin had come to me very angry, (as angry as he lets himself get) and very sad that his two best friends hate each other's guts. He had said it made him anxious and he wasn’t sure if either of us would stick around him because of the other.

Which had never crossed my mind. Of course I hate everytime Jin tells me Jungkook would be at an event or would be tagging along with us but I didn’t think that it bothered Jin. To be honest it looked like it stressed him out more than Jungkook and I. Which I understand. It is hard to be the middleman.

No, I never thought about not hanging out with Jin because of Jungkook. Well maybe I was lying. But it was never a permanent thought in my head. Rather it was fleeting in moments that I found out Jungkook would be coming and I didn’t want to go that night anymore. I always told Jin that there were ways to schedule us around eachother, and he’d pretend to listen. Which genuinely upset me, because Jungkook is an asshole. An asshole who I hate, and Jin should listen to how I feel too. But I never tell him that. Instead I agreed to go to Greece with the two of them. Jungkook completely unaware that this is basically a bonding experiment.

“The earliest flight I can put you both on together is tomorrow evening at 5 pm” Which is extremely disappointing. Regardless, we don’t have another choice, so we laid out some money for the flight. Now another decision would have to be made. To stay in the airport and sleep on the floor, waiting hours and hours on end, or to get a hotel just outside of the airport. “With or without you I am getting out of this place.” Jungkook groans, and for once I agree with him and in silence we find our way to the exit. “I called a hotel that’s pretty close.” I say putting the phone down, exhausted as we had just gone through security. “They said we are lucky there are two rooms open so last minute.” Jungkook only grunts in response, hailing a cab for us. I sigh, which is the most either of us lets out the entire car ride to the hotel except to thank and pay the driver.

Neither of us speak when we exit either, heading into the hotel side by side but far apart. Despite the silence so obviously caused by resentment towards each other, I don’t try to fix it. I’ll save my energy for the rest of the trip, while in Seokjin’s presence.

We check in, and pay our own separate ways. A two hundred dollar expense that I wasn’t expecting to pay, but because it’s so last minute the prices for just one night were high.

“Heres your key cards. Hope you enjoy your stay.” The receptionist has a small smile and ushers us along. We aren’t the only people checking in.

I finally break the silence. “I think my room is in the other direction…” I announce and he looks back at me with a curt nod.

“Well if you need anything you have my number.” He says before turning around. “Be safe.” is barely heard as I turn around too. I don’t mutter ‘you too’ back because he’s already walking off.

As I walk off towards my room I let out a deep breath of relief. Glad that the silence wasn’t forced anymore. I seriously don’t know what Jin was thinking. A week trip with just the three of us? It is going to suck, and probably for all of us. Maybe that’s why Jin’s destination is Greece, a place we could try and relax amongst agonizing company. Jin’s trying at least and, since he cares so much I’ll put in my effort. Or at least try to.

I text Jin that we finally got to a hotel and that I would message him before our flight tomorrow. He responds with a smiley and a goodnight. I smile, hoping that he was having a good night too.

By the time I get to my hotel room I am giddy with the idea of jumping in bed. My arm is tired from dragging my suitcase and my back hurts from the airplane seats. Not to mention my aching brain from the practically pointless conversations with Jungkook. Seriously did he not even care to at least make some small talk? He spoke things of such little importance. ‘You look great’ He could have asked some questions about how I was doing or something worth conversation. Or at least make it genuine. However, would it have been worse to hear him speak more?

I pull the card up against the slot, a beep and then a red light blinking. Red is never a good sign. And what do you know the door doesn’t unlock. What a joke. I look down at my stuff debating whether to leave it by the door or take it all the way back to the lobby with me. Then I decide that leaving everything on my person in a foreign country is stupid and I pull the luggage back.

“Hi what can I help you with?” It’s a different attendant this time, and I slide the card to them

“Hi, um I’m in room 128 and my key wont work.”

They nod a few times, taking the key and inserting it somewhere. She types up some things on the computer and then. “Mr Hamira?”

I shake my head. “No it should be under Ha, Ha Eunjae” They seem confused and double check. They shake their head.

“I’m sorry we…” they purse their lips, typing in something else. “I’m sorry one moment.” So I stand there wondering if the earlier receptionist was wrong. There weren't two rooms, and instead had given me a room that someone else was in. Fuck I hope not.

“Well, you’re name is there. I have your receipt here… but someone else already has this booked out as well…” I swallow. Damnit. I nod. “Are you sure?”

They frown and then reach for the phone. “I’ll call the room to see if anyone is in it.” So she dials it up and a moment later an answer. My heart drops. I’ll have to find another room? And if they don’t have one? Then I’d call another hotel. I don’t want to think about what I would do if there aren’t any open hotels for the night. Why’s it so damn busy at this hotel? “Sorry sir for waking you, we just wanted to check…” I open my phone googling a nearby hotel. “Is there any other rooms?”

The receptionist puts the phone down shaking her head. “Not tonight I’m afraid. I’m so sorry, do you remember the name of the person who sold you this room?” I shake my head, not really caring for them to get reprimanded. “I will refund your money right now.” I bite my lip. Damn, what was I going to do?

“Okay.” I mutter dialing the phone to the next closest hotel. They answer but no good news, they were booked out for the rest of the week.

“We have a festival going on nearby that’s why.” She frowns, “I’m sorry…”

I don’t really care, it’s not her fault, but as I call the next hotel and the next and the next all within an hours radius I realize there’s no hope. I could travel the two hours to the next hotel but… I find myself seated in the lobby head pressed against my suitcase. I feel like throwing up, crying and screaming all simultaneously.

Jin crosses my mind and for a moment I think about calling him, but I decide not to bother him. It is my own problem to deal with. Though I can imagine him saying something like “your problems are mine and vice versa.” Blah blah, he cares too much. I frown, thinking about how bad the trip is going to be. I wonder if Jin dreads it as much as me. Does Jungkook dread hanging out with me as much as I do him? He must. After all he thinks that ‘I’m a stuck up cunt’ and many other things I don’t feel like replaying. I frown, how misogynistic and cruel. But I don’t linger on his past words and instead his most recent flutter into my thoughts.

Well if you need anything you have my number.

So because I have no other ideas, I pull open my phone and search him up. There was nothing.

Fuck. Of course not, I never saved his number. I hate his guts. For a moment I hate my own guts. How stupid could I be, not saving his number? Any number of emergencies could have occurred where I might need to contact him.

I cave, realizing who I need to ask, and open our text messages.

‘you’re really asking for his number’

‘yes dont ask i just rlly need it oki???’

‘mhm, why don’t you ask him yourself ;)’

‘jin give me his number’

I roll my eyes, but another text comes and it's a phone number. I stare at it for a moment. Do I text or call? And then I think about doing neither, I could just bear with the two hour drive. I close the message. Honestly getting a cab for two hours would be expensive. But not more expensive than the time I’ll be stuck with Jungkook. Plus I’ll have to sleep on the floor. It would be rude to ask to take the bed… Fuck.

So I call a cab, the line ringing and my head buzzing with regret. How expensive would this ride be? Not to mention I’d have to get another cab back to the airport tomorrow? My teeth tear into the skin in my mouth, this time the taste of iron filling at my tongue.

“What are you doing out here?” I jump at the sound of his voice, turning to see Jungkook standing with his wallet in hand.

I don’t know how to explain but settle with “They sold me a room they don't have.”I stutter thinking how stupid I must look still sitting in the lobby with all my stuff. I was sure to look a mess, almost crying. He looks over to the receptionist who is speaking to someone else. I look at the clock on my phone, still waiting for an answer. It is almost eleven.

“Is there another hotel?” He mutters not even looking back at me.

“No, well. There is one but it’s two hours away.”

His eyes widen as he opens his wallet. “Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t be joking.” I say, my voice raising. I am not in the mood right now. He doesn’t respond. “I’m trying to call a cab.” I take the phone away from my ear as it goes to voice mail. The message is in a language I don’t know. “Fuck.” I hang up. Putting my phone on my lap.

“Did you already rent a room at the other hotel?” He asks, looking longingly to the vending machines.

My jaw clenches. “No.” I spit at him, “They won’t fucking take my money over the phone, because of this damn.” I choke, “This.. Damn festival.” I sniff, pressing my hands against my cheeks that were now rosy and warm.

“What kind of festival?”

I blink, a tear falling from my eye. “I don’t fucking know.” I almost yell, the receptionist looking over. A few more tears drip down my cheeks. I wipe them hastily away.

Jungkook takes a seat next to me. “I’m sorry… I didn’t ask to piss you off..” he sighs, “I wasn’t thinking.” he presses his lips together looking anywhere but me, “you’re not going anywhere, that’s stupid.” I wipe away more stupid tears as he continues. “It’s just one night you can come to my room…” He sighs, eyes falling to his hands.

“Really?” I sniff.

He glares at me even though I was really asking. “Yeah don’t ask again or your calling that cab.”

My smile is small while I stand with him, awkwardly following him to the vending machines and watching as he glanced over his options. He finally just chose a water bottle and some m and ms.

“Do you want anything?” He asks me, and I shake my head softly. Still a foggy mind from the anxiety attack I narrowly dodged.

He buys another water and hands it to me. We quietly walk back towards his room. The receptionist was staring, probably conjuring what kind of person would pick a stranger to stay in their hotel room. Little does she know, we actually know each other.

As we got to his room and he taps the key on the door, I will myself to speak again. “you didn’t have to…” but I only mumble the words.

He pops a chocolate in his mouth and looks down at me. “What? It’s just water.”

“No…” I frown as he kicks open the door. “letting me stay with you.”

He shrugs as we enter the hotel room. “I said don’t mention it, otherwise you’re back on the street.” Despite sounding serious I can tell that he’s not. I shuffle to the side of the room leaving my suitcase on the side.

“I can sleep on the floor…”

“Ew what? No, that's disgusting.” He shakes his head, and unzips his suitcase. He stands there a moment before pulling out some clothes. I stand there idle as he walks around me, closing himself off into the bathroom.

He is right, that is gross. But I don’t want to take his bed? Would he sleep on the floor? How annoying, I know that if it were the other way around I’d be pissed. I should have just gotten the other hotel. I could have napped on the drive and been fine. Although I wouldn’t want to be alone with some driver for two hours. It would probably be a man, and he might be creepy.

“Eunjae are you okay?” Jungkook has come out in sweats and a tshirt. I stare at him a second, but not for any reason other than he spoke to me.

“Oh, yeah.” I realize I’ve been standing in the same place since I got in the room and so I decide that I’ll follow in his footsteps, taking out a pair of shorts and a tshirt I had packed for pajamas.

He squints at me, walking around back to the other side of the room. “You’re being weird…”

“Sorry.” I mutter going into the bathroom to change. Although I knew I would look tired, when I found myself in the mirror I looked worse than I thought. My eyes are red and puffy from fatigue as well as crying. I roll my eyes at myself. It was a stupid reason to cry. I try not to think about the day that had gone wrong so I distract myself by changing. It is in the past now so it doesn’t really matter. But still, I don’t want to be on another flight tomorrow and I don’t want to be in this room, but I don’t want to be anywhere else either. I just want to be in Greece already. Drinking and sitting on the beach with Jin.

After changing I brush my teeth and wash my face. I am ready to pass out. I come back out to the room and Jungkook is playing some videos on his phone. He is laid out on the left side of the bed, already under the covers. Two pillows separate the two sides of the bed. It is only a queen sized bed, and Jungkook isn’t small so there is only just enough space for me.

“What?” He glares at me. And it bothers me because I’ve done absolutely nothing to him.

“N-nothing.” I say, plugging my phone in and stepping to the bed. Really I never did anything to him the entire time we had known each other. And yet he is such an asshole. I take a seat, but really I don’t want to get in the bed. It’s weird.

I hear Jungkook sigh as I stare at my phone. “We aren’t twelve you know.”

“I am aware Jungkook. That doesn’t mean I want to sleep in the same bed as you.” I shoot, back to my regular self.

He huffs, “For one night only. You’ll never get the chance again.” He winks when I turn staring daggers at him.

I ignore this and pull myself under the covers. If I ever am going to fall asleep tonight in the presence of that demon I will have to start getting comfortable now.

We both fall into a silence. The only sounds being the rain hitting the window, the air conditioner, and the tiktoks he's scrolling through. The light is still on so I don’t close my eyes yet. Instead I think about what Jin had asked of me. He won’t want me to fake it. No fake smiles, or being a bitch back to Jungkook after he’s been an asshole. I will have to genuinely be nice to him. How can I do that when he’s only being an ass to me all time? Be honest with my feelings? Hey Jungkook, that hurt my feelings. Ha, he’ll laugh in my face and then do it again… right?

I have never tried that before… and earlier when I had very obviously almost had a breakdown he actually apologized. I think it was genuine. I think that might have been the first time he had ever seen me cry.

“Jungkook.” I hated myself the moment his name came out of my mouth. Why had I spoken?

He rolls over slightly as he had been facing opposite me. “What?” He sounds annoyed, rightfully so.

I stare at the ceiling. “Why do you hate me?” And after I ask the question I bite my lip because it sounds stupid.

He scoffs, “Who told you I hated you?”

My brows furrow. “What do you mean? At the very least you dislike me highly. When have you ever shown any ounce of kindness to me?” Silence, and that sounds even more dumb because he had by letting me stay in his room “Y-you know what I mean.” I squint, realizing I am being a bitch and failing at even one step of pleasing Jin.

“I only treat you the same way you treat me.” He states blankly, my anger immediately blowing over.

“What?” I push myself up on one arm, Jungkook raising a brow at me. “Are you fucking joking? You’ve only ever been an asshole to me. I never did anything but deal with your shit.”

He blinks. “That’s not true.” My mouth falls open at his unwillingness to admit that he had done something wrong. “I only don’t like you because you don’t like me. No other reason.” He sits up, “You started whatever this is.” He scrunches up his face, “and don’t act like you didn’t because from the very beginning of our relationship, you acted like I didn’t exist…”

He shakes his head, hands clenching tightly against his phone, continuing; “and everytime I came into the room you’d look at me like I was some disgusting animal and then whisper to your friends. Do you know how that makes someone feel? All I ever did was say hi and you were so fake I could feel the bitchiness radiating off you. I didn’t do anything and you treated me like shit.” He looks me over. “You were awful.”

I wish I could have interrupted his stupid speech. He really believes that I am in the wrong? Does he really have no recollection?

“Liar.” I growl. “Don’t act like you dont know.” I sniff, “I only ignored you because you thought you had me figured out from the get go.” My frown becomes prominent and that feeling from earlier returns along with the redness in my cheeks and the water in my eyes. “You had met me one time Jungkook. One fucking time and had the nerve to assume you knew anything about me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He has a stupid look on his face, one that makes me even more angry.

“How can you not remember your great first impression of me Jungkook?” I feel a tear slip down my cheeks but it's more out of anger than sadness. “Eunjae seems like a pretentious cunt, I don’t know why Jin is friends with someone like that-” the tears fall freely now, “a- a whore and…” I clasp a hand over my mouth, stopping a sob. There isn’t really a point in continuing. That should refresh his memory enough. a whore and a gold digging bitch. Only friends with Jin for his money. None of which was true. Well maybe the pretentious part, only sometimes. The tears are dripping onto the sheets of the bed, embarrassing. So I push the covers off of me.

“I-” He shakes his head, shakes and shakes. “I didn’t say that. I never said that.” But I am not listening, I stand up and walk into the bathroom, unable to hear whatever it is he’s saying. I shut the door and sit on the edge of the tub, tearing at the tissue to blow my nose.

I had only told a few of my friends why I hated Jungkook. Only the ones that weren’t mutual with him. Even Jin always wondered. Why would I tell him that the young man he looks so highly of is a total douchebag? It only felt right to keep it to myself, I was sure, no, am sure that Jungkook had relayed that impression of me to all our friends. After all it was my friend who had told me she overheard him telling these things to Taehyung. I had met Taehyung that night and after that I thought I saw a tinge of disdain everytime we spoke. At present it is gone, but did he still sometimes agree? Does he think I am a whore? Do Namjoon or Yoongi think I am a golddigger? I am sure Jungkook thinks those things all of the time. Because he has always been an asshole. Always.

There is a knock at the front door, which I hear Jungkook answer. The door opens and I wondered what it is. It shuts again a moment later. Maybe Jungkook left. After gaining my bearings I rinse off my face and go to open the door. How am I meant to stay here after that?

Jungkook is standing across from the door, “There was a noise complaint.” He spoke quietly, scratching the back of his neck. I don’t respond, only try to walk past him back to the bed. “Eunjae, I never said that.” I close my eyes not really wanting to hear it. “I swear to you, I never said that.”

I pout, looking up at him, barely whispering. “I don’t believe you.”

“I- I really didn’t. I don’t know how to prove to you I didn’t. Why would I? I never have thought those things about you. I really would never say those things.” He stutters a few times and then gets annoyed. “Who told you I said that?”

I clench my teeth, “P-Park Iseul.”

He looks defeated, “I- I don’t even know who that is…”

He can’t defend himself which is enough for me. “You said all those things about me, to Tae…”

“No Jae… listen.” I scoff, “Really gonna try using a nickname on me now? You’re really-”

“Eunjae, I’m sorry.” He’s holding back his annoyance with me, “Why don’t you ask Tae then? Mhm?” He purses his lips, “I have never lied to you. Have I?” And I think for a moment. I can’t recollect a time when he had lied, but I’m sure there had to be at least one. “I didn’t say those things about you. In fact I thought you were really cool. Whoever may have said those things really is an asshole and they're wrong.” He flicks his hands up, “But it wasn’t me.”

“Then- then why have you been so mean to me?” Is all I could manage. At this point I’m not sure whether I believe him or not. This whole time of thinking that he had said those things only to be wrong?

“I told you. You made me feel like I was a parasite. Like I didn’t belong. I’ve been wondering why you’ve hated me for years, and figured that there was just something wrong with me.”

My frown is stuck to my face. I never wanted him to feel that way. No, I did, but only because he made me feel the same way. Because he is evil. But if that isn’t true and he never had been evil in the first place, then it was I who had been the evil one.

“I’m sorry.” I say softly, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, his hair falling into his face, “I’m sorry too.” However, if he is telling the truth then there is no real reason for him to apologize. I had thought that Jungkook was reigning terror over me the whole time I had known him but it had actually been the other way around. I am the bitch he thinks I am.

“No really.” I wish I had grabbed a few more tissues because my eyes are leaking again, “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so mean.” He doesn’t say anything. “I really thought that-”

“It’s okay.” He sighs, leaning against the wall. “If it had been the other way around, I might have done the same thing.” But something tells me he wouldn’t have. Despite despising him, the years and years of being around each other I knew Jungkook fairly well. The only person he acts like this around is me, and it is all my fault.

I fold my hands together, sniffing. “Jungkook I’m so so so sorry. I really am. I wish I could take it all back.”

He pushes himself off of the wall. “Please, it’s fine I promise you. If you apologize again I’m making you sleep on the floor.” He walks around back to the bed. “I wish I could take it back too, but it’s just the past.” He sits down. “And now we know it was a dumb miscommunication.” A miscommunication and an assumption on my part. And now I feel awful. And as if reading my mind he speaks again, “Don’t apologize again, really.”

“But I-” He shoots me a glare that stops me.

“Eunjae, I know you’re sorry. I think I know you well enough to know now that you mean it genuinely.” Which only made me feel worse knowing that I never have truly apologized for any of the mean things I’ve said to him. I wonder how often I made him feel sad. He didn’t really show it, instead he’d shoot some sarcastic thing back at me.

“I want to apologize for everything… anything I’ve ever said-” I continue… and he sighs.

“Well don’t. Just pretend that we were teasing each other. Most of it was teasing anyway.”

But he is wrong, “For you maybe. You teased me. I was just awful. I can’t imagine how you felt. I-”

“Yes you can imagine, because you felt the same way about all the things I said to you. So we’ll call it even.” He pulls the covers over himself. “Now let's forget about it and sleep. It's already midnight.” I stand in my place for a moment, before admitting defeat and going back to bed. After pulling the covers up to my shoulders, Jungkook switches off the last light, the whole room going dark as well as silent. The patter of rain on the window lulls me to fatigue but my brain doesn’t want to stop churning. Eventually my thoughts calm themselves and I’m able to fall asleep.

It was an awkward morning. Both of us were quiet as we tiptoed around each other, getting ready to head back to the airport. Showered, and freshened up for another 5 hour flight. We had slept in but still were tired, and my back still ached. There were almost six hours till our flight but checkout was at 11 and it was 10:45. I was hungry the last meal I had was back in Korea, and last night I hadn’t even thought about eating. We would hopefully pick up something on the way.

“Do you want to eat?” Jungkook asks as he gives the attendant his keycard. “I’m starving.”

It was the first thing he had said that morning and it felt weird. Our conversation from last night had ended abruptly. At least to me it had. There was so much left unsaid. I wanted to apologize again, in a moment where we were not in the heat of the moment. A real apology.

“Me too.” I say, and I try to smile. “We could go through the drive through with an uber?”

So that’s what we did. A quick sandwich place where the food was cheap and easy. The driver allowed us to eat in the car as long as we didn’t make a mess. The drive to the airport took longer than expected. There was traffic from the event the attendant spoke of last night, but thankfully the driver played music as Jungkook wasn’t talking much. What was he thinking?

He was probably thinking about how much he hated airport security. At least that was what I was thinking as we made our way through the airport. Conversation was the last thing on my mind while I walked through the metal detectors. By the time we were set free by the employees and back around to our new gate it was 1pm with four hours to kill.

“What do you think Jin is doing right now?” I spoke to him for the first time in what might have been an hour of waiting. Now we are sitting together on a bench, with several other passengers. It's not like we have much else to do. I can at least try to kill the awkward with conversation.

He sighs, “Probably eating a five star lunch with a view of the beach…” He leans back against the chair, stretching his neck, and pushing his hair back. He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. His chest rising and falling softly. I look away and think back to Jin.

“I wish…” I pull out my phone, he is probably wondering what we are doing too. I dial his number, looking away from Jungkook.

He answers almost right away. “Hey Jinnie….”

“Hey are you at the airport?” He sounds more cheerful than he was last night. He is just as excited as we are that we’ll finally be in Greece with him.

“Yup, still got a while to wait though.” I say frowning, looking at the clock. “We are just sitting here… waiting. Waiting. Waiting.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry…” He sighs and then mumbles to someone off the phone. “I can't wait to see you… In like eight hours…”

I shake my head… “It’ll be late then, you should sleep.” He shouldn’t wait for us. It’s not like we are alone. We’ll be able to find our way to the hotel with eachothers help. I glance to Jungkook who looks like he could be asleep. His lashes were quite long. Just as long as mine, how unfair. He had such a pretty face.

“No, no it sucks that you guys got stuck and I want to meet you there. Don’t need you getting lost.” And I smile at this. He’s always like this. Caring for others. It sucks even more that he is alone though. Is Jungkook asleep? That same soft rise and fall of his chest. No he isn’t, His thumbs twiddle with the tag on his luggage.

“Alright… Then I’ll see you in eight hours… try and save doing the fun stuff with Jungkook and I. I think I have severe FOMO.” I laugh, picking at my fingers. I was a patient person but god this is a long time to wait.

“Me too.” Jungkook huffs, not opening his eyes “What’s he eating? How’s the food?” He groans, “I wanna be there and not here.”

I relay Jungkook's questions which Jin happily answers. “Oh you will love it. Everything is delicious. I don’t want to stop eating. It's so good.”

I smile, barely holding back my anticipation. “We can’t wait to be there.”

For a moment he’s quiet, “You’ve sounded weird… What happened? Did you guys argue or something?” He sighs, “Why am I even asking of course you argued.”

“What?” I purse my lips together. How’d he figure that out so easily? Am I that easy to read? Did I really say something that made it obvious? I didn’t think so. “What do you mean?”

“You’re being suspicious. What happened?”

I frown. What does he mean? Am I really being suspicious… No. “You’re suspicious… When do we not…” I look at Jungkook who’s still not paying attention. “seriously? When has there ever been a time where we didn’t…” I avoid saying the word fight. I don’t want Jungkook to know that we are talking about him.

“Well I asked you not to.” I can just see him crossing his arms, The way his voice has sped up, of course he's upset. “Man I can't handle this, if you guys are going to hate each other the whole trip. Seriously you can’t suck it up and have a good time? Once? Literally that’s all I’m asking is for this one time…”

I clench my phone tighter, “Jin. To be honest you’re a liar.” I try to speak in a cool tone, still not wanting Jungkook to be paying me any mind. “One time? really? No it’s been the whole time, all the times. Fuck.” I take a deep breath. “What about what I asked of you? Mhm? Yeah you didn’t listen to that.”

“Well I’m older than you so…”

“It doesn’t matter anyway because nothing happened anyways, Well, nothing like usual so you can keep your assumptions to yourself. Bye I’ll see you in Greece.” I hung up the phone.

“So what was it that you asked of him?” I look over to Jungkook who’s staring down at me. I blink, why was he eavesdropping? I am a fool to think he wasn’t paying attention. “You know you’re sitting right next to me and it’s not like Iphone speakers are very quiet. So what was it that you asked of him?” He crosses his arms, an eyebrow raised.

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” I lean back in my chair, “it was before we figured out it was a misunderstanding.”

“I still want to know.” He’s acting like a child.

“Really? Why? We’ve already spent all day in silence and I’d rather you not hate me again.”

“We already covered that I never hated you in the first place.”

“Really Jungkook?” I roll my eyes. “Plus you’re the one who wanted to stop talking about it? So why are you asking now?”

He shrugs. “I wanna know.” A short breath comes from my nose while I contemplate what to tell him. It was cruel now in hindsight. But it was genuinely how I felt at the time.

I shake my head , “I asked him to make sure I never saw you again.” I almost laugh cause it sounds so stupid. “Like, literally all the time I used to ask that, but a few months ago I genuinely asked him to stop inviting me if you were going to be there. And that’s when he planned this trip. One last big event before I boycotted you.” He stares at me, “Does that make you feel better?” I grind my teeth. “Not that you probably didn’t feel the same way.”

His eyes fell to the floor, his face softening. “Sorry.”

I squint, looking him over. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who’s being a bitch… again.”

His eyes roll over to me. “No, I’m sorry for making you feel like you couldn’t hang out with your best friend.” He frowns, brows furrowed as he contemplates what to say. “That sucks”

“I’m sure you felt the same way…”

He shakes his head. “Not really. So, I’m sorry.” His eyes haven't left mine, and it’s making me uncomfortable.

“I-If I can’t apologize.” I swallow, sitting back in my seat, avoiding that burning eye contact. “Then neither can you.”

“I don’t think I did last night, so I-” he folds his hands together. “I’m really sorry for e-”

“No. You did apologize, so no more apologizing.” I pull out my headphones, “I forgive you so it’s fine.” And I plug them into my phone, shutting him out.

He blinks, shaking his head and turning away from me. Doing whatever. While I sit here and wait.

“Hey, we are boarding.” I blink, waking to Jungkook shaking my shoulder lightly. I yawn, grateful that I had managed some sleep, but knowing that I’d regret it on the plane ride. Planes are so awfully uncomfortable. We board slowly, waiting in line behind other people. I should have grabbed a coffee before we boarded, because now I feel so groggy. But maybe I would manage to fall back asleep. Four hours would be awfully boring if I didn’t. I guess I did download those movies though.

“Do you want the aisle seat?” He asks as we scoot down the aisle. I shrug as we reach our seats. We couldn’t get an outside seat, so we are stuck in the middle aisle. “It doesn’t really matter to me.” He mutters, reaching up and sticking his bag in the overhead storage.

“You’re taller, and wider.” I smile. “It’s fine I’ll take the middle.” He grins, “Who ever could have thought you could actually be nice to me.”

“I’m just being considerate.” I mutter, pushing my extra stuff into the storage as well.

He squeezes past me, “Well so am I.” He takes the seat over, some guy already in the other seat. I squint, wondering if he’s being considerate or petty just to keep me from being nice. Or am I being petty too?

I take my seat anyways, turning my phone onto airplane mode as the attendants go through the safety briefings. “But are you going to have to go to the bathroom?”

He shakes his head, pulling his hoodie over his head. “Nope, I’ve got a strong bladder.”

I take the hoodie as a sign he no longer wants to talk so I plug in my headphones and press on the horror movie I downloaded and brace myself for takeoff.

Halfway through the flight I notice that Jungkook was asleep. It had taken him a little while, likely because of the uncomfortable seat. Or the random stranger that is sitting next to him and their loud chewing. Or that he is in a hoodie and it is really hot.

Earlier in the flight I could tell he wanted to take it off, but for the sake of not bothering other people he left it on. For a while he watched an anime, but now he is sleeping.

His hair is in his face, his breath hitting one strand that flutteres over his lips. I feel like waking him up as he is about to be leaning on the random stranger, but that feels wrong. He is really peaceful when he sleeps. Those same pretty lashes resting over his cheeks.

The strings of a sharp violin jump up in my ear, making me jump and look back to my screen. I take a deep breath. What am I doing? I pause the movie. Maybe I can try and sleep too. I close my eyes, tucking my phone into my pocket. Ignoring whatever that was.

“Sorry, excuse me.” I open my eyes, Jungkook standing and attempting to squeeze between me and the chair. He’s got his sleeves rolled up, his tattooed arm reaching over my head. I furrow my brows, trying to press myself against the chair and out of his way.

He had taken off his hoodie now, a tight button up shirt that fit around his muscles very nicely. Why would he wear that under a hoodie?

“You look very beautiful.” My eyes scrunch up as I glare at him. Is he being sarcastic? What a weird comment to make? “No really. I mean it.”

I blush, why’s he saying this? On the airplane? While he’s hovering over all sexy like? What the fuck?

“Can I kiss you?” I stare at him, hands clenching the sides of my seat. What does he mean? I look over to the stranger who is surely as uncomfortable as me, but he is gone, as are all of the other passengers. It is just me and Jungkook.

I flinch upon his hand at my cheek. “I asked you a question…” he smirks, my heart skipping a beat.

I shake my head. “No, Jungkook? What the fuck?” I push him off.

“What the fuck? What’s that for?” I blink, seeing Jungkook still over me, back in his hoodie, the stranger sitting next to us staring. I look around, a couple of eyes staring at me. “I’m trying to go to the bathroom.”

I try to collect myself, was it a dream? I look up, catching Jungkook’s glare. “I’m sorry I-” He scoots out of the aisle. “I had a- a bad dream.” He looks at me in confusion before turning his head and heading down towards the bathroom. I sigh checking the time. So I managed to fall asleep… There is about thirty minutes of the flight left. What a relief. I pull the movie back out and decide the time will go by faster that way. Jungkook returns in no time, scooting back to his seat.

“So what kinda bad dream was it?” I turn my head to him, “You were pushing me pretty violently. Something traumatic happen to you that I should know about?”

I laugh light heartedly to hide my anxiety. To be honest or not? “Uh…”

Jungkook turns his eyes to slits, staring intently with a horrid grin. “You said my name. Ring any bells?”

I blink, “I- well. You tried to kiss me.” He laughs at this.

“Really? And it was that bad?” He crosses his arms. “I mean damn you really shoved me into the chair of the person in front of you. It was that bad?” He teases.

My mouth falls open, void of speech for a moment. “It’s awkward… It was weird.” I cover my face. “Wouldn’t it be weird if you had a dream where I tried to kiss you?”

He ponders this for a moment, “You know… I think I’d let you.” He smirks, “Why not?”

“What do you mean why not?” I lean over, trying to maintain my whisper voice, I had already drawn too much attention to myself. “Thats-”

He shrugs, “It’s not like it’s real. No big deal.” He looks at me, expecting an answer.

I fall back into my chair, “Well it felt pretty real so-” I fiddle with my shirt. “It’s not like you would know if it was real or not in the dream.”

“I guess you’re right.” He glances at his phone, the clock ticking oh so slow. He doesn’t say anything more. Leaving me wondering. Would he still let me? Why was that even a question in my mind? I press play on my movie, hoping for it to distract me.

The plane lands and it’s extremely dark outside, the city lights blinking around us. Now that we finally landed I was feeling giddy, excited not only to be there but also to see Jin.

The airport this time around was a lot harder to get around. Our baggage claim took twenty minutes in itself, poor Jin texting me from outside. But we were on our way out, needing to stretch and get some fresh uncirculated air.

“Hey!” I look up seeing Jin waiting for us with an Uber. “Welcome to Athens!” He stretches out his arms, me rushing to be the first to greet him.

“Jinniaahh.” I embrace him, missing his bear hugs. I reluctantly let go, giving Jungkook his turn as well.

“How was the flight here? Not considering the fact that it wasn’t the original one you were meant to take.”

Jungkook beats me to an answer, “It was good aside from the fact that Eunjae tried to claim I assaulted her.”

“No I-”

“It was embarrassing, everyone was staring.” He giggles, looking at me with a smile, and it isn’t meant to be conniving. He is only teasing.

I try to loosen up, not expecting him to be teasing so light-heartedly. He isn’t trying to be mean this time. Would I have to remind myself of that everytime he speaks? I smile, “Yeah it was embarrassing for me to.” I elbow him. “Everyone really was staring.” I pout at Jin, “I felt really bad.”

“Did you now?” Jungkook’s lips curl to one side. “Can we get coffee?”

“Coffee?” I look at the clock, “Are you crazy? It’s almost two in the morning.”

Jin looks at both of us, “What’s going on? Is this playful banter? Are you playing a prank on me?”

I look at him, “What’s wrong with playful banter?” I tease Seokjin, “Isn’t it everything you ever wanted?” The uber driver helps us get our luggage into the trunk.

Jin glares at me, holding the door open for me. “I-”

“Everything you ever wanted.” Jungkook winks at him, getting in on the other side.

Jin gets in the front seat, all of us in the car now. “Now I really think you’re faking it…”

I roll my eyes, turning an air conditioning nozzle towards me. “No Jinnie, just teasing you.” He hums and I can tell he’s not fully convinced. Not that I’m all that convinced either.

We get to the airbnb by two thirty, and Jin is ready to pass out. Jungkook and I however are pumped, finally out of the plane and ready to explore Athens, it is a shame that we arrived so late. Here's to hoping that our jet lag won't ruin the day tomorrow.

We pull our luggage into the little house and Jungkook and I are wide eyed. It is really nice, and I am sure it has to have five stars and incredible reviews. It is an open concept, the kitchen, dining, and living room are all connected, stairs at the door leading up to the three bedrooms.

“Thank god we don’t have to share a bed.” Jungkook says, starting up the stairs with a smile. I shake my head pulling in my suitcase behind me. Not only is the inside open, but it is a full fishbowl style, all the windows open towards the city below. We’re up on a hill, trees surrounding the rest of the house for moderate privacy. But the view is beautiful. I wonder what it will look like at sunrise or sunset.

“You guys shared a bed?” Jin asks curiously, opening up the fridge where he pulls out a water, tossing it to me and taking out another for himself.

“Yeah… Was kinda weird. But there was only one room in the hotel we were at. Very very unfortunate.” I huff, “But I guess Jungkook didn’t have to let me stay with him. It was better than being on the street.” I laugh.

“Mhm, is this why you’re being all buddy buddy?” He crosses his arms, taking a sip of his water.

I shrug, opening up my own bottle. “I guess you could say that. I don’t know, we resolved some things.”

“Well that’s a relief…” He sighs, “Why was it that you didn’t like him anyways?”

I look at the ground. “It was dumb really… I’m sorry Jin.”

“No no, It’s fine. I’m just happy you guys can be civil.”

I nod, “Yeah…” Civil. I still feel awful about it. Jungkook really had done nothing after all. He said it himself: We can pretend that we were teasing each other. Had he been teasing me? Playful banter that I returned with malice.

“You good?” I blink, Jin is still standing in the kitchen.

“Yeah… I’m going to try to sleep.” I hike up the stairs, luggage in hand.

“Goodluck,” He says following, and dipping into a far bedroom.

I sigh, I will need that luck. Jet lag, and not to mention the fact that I already slept on the plane. It would probably not be a successful night's sleep. Both doors of the other rooms are closed, nice; Jungkook couldn’t have left me a clue to which room he had taken?

I knock on the door, and wait for anything. No sound so I open the door, peering inside. With a sigh of relief I walk inside. Tugging in the luggage after me. The bed looks so comfortable and suddenly the energy I thought I had was gone.

“I claim this room.” I turn around, Jungkook barging in from behind with his suitcases in tow. I'm speechless as he hops onto the bed.

“I was here first.” I look back out the door, wondering what is so wrong with the other room that he abandoned it.

He raises his brows, looking over from the bed, “Well you didn’t claim it… I did.”

“That’s childish.” I look around, deciding the other room won’t be that bad. “And I’m not so…” I walk out the door so I can take the other room.

“You are childish.” He nags. “Hey, close the door.” To which I ignore him and move on to my room. Which, like I thought, isn’t that much different than the other one. I check the bathroom though, which doesn’t have a shower. I sigh, so that’s why Jungkook must have taken the other one. It’s not like he can stop me from using his, unless he wants me to smell bad. Maybe Jin’s room has a shower too.

I unpack a little into the small chest of drawers in the room, and plug in my phone. I make sure I have everything in order for tomorrow. What is it that we were doing tomorrow anyway?

The first day on our itinerary had been ruined by the unforeseen storm in Georgia, but it’s not like it was strict. We could go to so many different museums or historical sites. Hopefully the other two will be just as interested in those as me. Too bad our other friend Joon didn’t come along. He’d love the art.

Looking at the clock I decide it’s time for bed. I shut out my lights and tuck myself in. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but falling asleep is particularly tricky. What time were we waking up? Should I go ask Jin? No, he might have already fallen asleep. Surely we would sleep in? Jungkook might complain about going straight to the museums instead of something more exciting. What is it that he wants to do again? Surfing, oh yeah. But surely not on our first day after a tiring flight.

I fluff the pillow that is already too hot. My back hurts from the flight and the bed isn’t proving to be as comfortable as I thought it would be. I wonder if the other bed is more comfy. Why’d Jungkook have to go right ahead and take it from me? He’d probably sleep in later than me too. What if Jin’s bathroom didn't have a shower and we both had to use the one in Jungkook’s room? Surely that would be absurd, Three bathrooms and one shower. No way. Not with five star reviews. There should be a shower in my bathroom too. The architect sucks. Brain shut the fuck up. I sigh into the sheets. They smell good. At least I can be sure that they are clean. I bet the floors are clean. If there was only one bed here, we could sleep on the floor and it would be way less disgusting than that of the hotel floor.

My throat is a little dry. I push myself out of the comforter. Is the ac on or Is it my high level of activity that is making me hot? I flip on my bathroom light just to see around me. Where is the thermostat? Downstairs probably. I pick up my phone and switch my flashlight on, waltzing through the hallway and down the stairs. What a house. A chandelier's crystals glimmer from my phone’s light above the stairs. How much would it cost to live in a place like this?

I don’t consider it, it is far above my salary. The kitchen is grand, meant for entertaining, a bar overlooking the living room below. Wow I’d kill to live here, my simple apartment is half the square footage, and not a speck of glamour shines there. Unless you count the prints of someone’s art I bought off of etsy.

I scour the kitchen cabinets, finding lots of plates and dishes for serving. Ah yes, my hands find the cups which shine the reflection of my flashlight. The fridge dispenses ice and cool water which I down quickly. I sm more parched than I thought and I refill the cup a second time. Sipping on the second one I think about the bathroom again. Childish indeed. If I were as childish as he, I would have replied. I don’t see your name on it. But I didn’t… Though it was just playful banter. Did he really see it that way? Was he teasing me all those years? Certainly he did it just to spite me. Either way, it was out of spite of my malice when he had done nothing wrong. He didn’t mean all the little things he said? Was he really just joking? I never was… God I feel awful. Maybe I can hope that he thought I was joking. Which is unlikely.

“Is it hot in here or-” I jump at the sound of his voice, the glass slipping from my hand and onto the floor. It shatters in the dark, pieces glimmering in the light that still shine from my phone.

“Oh my god Jungkook!” I glare at him, yelling in a whisper, hoping that the sound of glass hitting the floor hadn’t woken Jin. What is his reasoning for creeping up on me in the dark? At almost 3:30 in the morning?

“Oh my god Eunjae.” His eyes widen, “You’re bleeding.” I look down to my foot, a piece of glass lodged into the side of the sole.

“Oh my god.” I swallow, it is bleeding. Like a lot. “Oh my god…” I feel sick, blood pooling a little under my foot, I hadn’t even felt it at first, but now I do. “Oh-”

“Don’t freak out.” he says, his voice raised from his own panic. He looks around, flipping the lightswitch and blinding both of us. “Oh my god.” He’s spinning around the room, avoiding stepping on any glass. “Where’s a broom?” He says annoyed that he can’t step any closer.

“Oh my god. Jungkook it’s bleeding all over.” I cry, looking for a towel or something, but I can’t move anyways because little pieces of the cup are scattered over the floor. “Oh fuck.” I look up, avoiding looking at it. How big is the piece? Will it stop bleeding? Will I need stitches? How can this trip get any worse? What if this ruins it? It’s bleeding a lot, the blood sticky under my heel. It hurts so bad, the sharp feeling throbbing as blood seeps out of the wound. “Please help!” I whine and he almost growls at me, searching in an open closet.

“I’m fucking looking.” He runs around to the downstairs bathroom, eventually coming around with a broom and a dustpan. “Pick up your foot.” I shake my head, not wanting to move it. It hurts. He looks at me, annoyed and then more gently. “Please pick up your foot so I don’t accidentally touch it.”

I sit back on a bar stool, my foot coming off the hardwood like a sticker. My stomach churns as blood drips down my toes to the floor. Jungkook sighs, sweeping up the floor around us until no shards are seen glimmering against the lights.

“Oh my god I’m gonna throw up.” I whine, looking anywhere but my foot.

Jungkook frowns, “please don’t it’s just blood,” but I can tell he’s not pleased with the look of it either. He takes some paper towels and tosses them on the floor where I had left a bloody outline of my foot. He hands me a rag that’s slightly dampened from the sink.

“What?” I look at him in horror, “You think that I’m going to touch it?”

Exasperated, he shakes his head, “Do you expect me to? No, no. This is your foot. I’m not touching your foot.” “I- I can’t.” I look down at it, feeling queasy. And I feel hot tears run down my cheeks. “Please…”

His nose scrunches as he looks at it again, “Man you are such a crybaby.”

“Do you want to have the glass lodged in you!” I threaten, wiping away my tears. “This is your fault anyway.”

With a sigh he takes my hand, pulling up my ankle. “Just press the rag here.” He gently sets my hand at the base of my foot, soaking up any blood that was still dripping down. “You don’t have to touch the glass.” He presses my hand slightly, the sharp edge still cutting me. “Just for a second, I’m going to go look for a first aid kit. Or something.” He pushes his hair back taking a quick breath before leaving me in the kitchen.

The glass itself doesn’t seem too long. But without knowing how much of it is in my foot, I can’t gauge if I’ll need stitches or not. It is coming up about an inch from the skin. That is pretty long right? And it’s not coming right out if I move. Fuck. What if I can’t go surfing, or swimming or walking around for long periods of time because of this? I can’t forgive myself for ruining the trip not only for myself but for the other two. I’ll just be a burden.

Jungkook comes back with a smile, “look they actually had stuff!” A wrapping of gauze, medical tape, and some sanitary wipes were in his hands. “I didn’t think they would.”

I feel my heart racing, blood pumping to my foot, bleeding more and more. If it keeps bleeding it would need stitches. That’s how it works, right?

“You aren’t holding it tight enough.” He scoffs, taking the rag from me, and holding my foot more firmly.

“Ow,” I wince, wanting to yank my foot away from him.

“You’re just letting it bleed, dummy.” He frowns looking at it, and then whines, “Why does it have to be me?” He examines the glass, “And before you say anything, yeah I know it’s because I scared you so it’s my fault.”

“Sorry.” I mumble.

“Good you should be, butterfingers.” He reaches down for the glass, making me flinch.

“Are you taking it out?” I cry, making his shoulders drop.

“What else is there to do?” He looks annoyed, I’m one hundred percent getting on his nerves. But it’s not my fault. What if the glass is really deep? And what if the bleeding doesn't stop? “What’s wrong?” He asks and my eyes begin to water.

“There’s a glass in my foot.” I clench my fists. How does he not see what’s wrong?

He huffs, with a hint of amusement. “Yeah, duh. That’s why I’m going to take it out. I can tell that you aren’t okay with it and I’m just wondering why.” He tugs on another bar stool, sitting across from me, and setting my foot on his knee. “What would you rather me do?”

“I- I don’t know.” I sniff, wishing I had a tissue. “Just, what if it’s really deep? And it doesn’t stop bleeding and then we have to go to an emergency room and then I’ll need stitches. It’s four in the morning and we’ll have to wake up Jin.” I take a shaky breath. “And then the trip is ruined. Part two.” I grind my teeth together, “I don’t want to ruin the trip…”

Jungkook shuts his eyes, “God all that anxiety is all up inside you.” He nods, patting my ankle. “Yeah that might happen… but either way we have to take out the glass to find out.” Which is nothing but a fact, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m worried. “It’s gonna be fine, Eunjae. Things like this happen,” He smiles softly, revealing his little mole under his bottom lip. It had been hiding the majority of the trip, underneath a frown. “plus if the trip does get ruined, then you can blame it on me.” I smile through the pain, “yeah, that would make me feel better.”

“Figured.” He turns his attention back to the glass. “Now I’m going to take it out, please don’t freak out. Look away or something.”

I squeeze the counter bracing for the pain, “Don’t like, just rip it out.”

“Relax. I can promise you it’s going to hurt a lot more if you’re tense.” His voice is calming, even though I can tell that he's not exactly at ease himself. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. The glass shifts as his hands take hold. I tense despite him telling me not to. It pulls out fairly quickly and I can feel a gush of blood when it’s out. Jungkook cringes, and presses the rag against it. The sting worsens, and I can feel the throbbing throughout my whole foot.

“Is it out?” I look down seeing the glass in his hand, slick with my blood. He wraps it in paper towels and throws it out. “How big was it?”

“Like a third of an inch in there.” He shrugs, “that wasn’t that bad was it?” He holds tightly to my foot, the blood seeping through the rag. He lifts my foot, giving it some more elevation.

“We’ll see.” I say shakily.

“I’d say it was worse for me, since I had to touch your foot and take the glass out.” He sticks his tongue out, “feet are gross.”

I rest my chin on my hand, trying to not pay any attention to my foot. “Yeah they are.”

“Eunjae, will you relax?” He pokes my shin, “You’re stressing me out.”

“Were you really teasing me the whole time?”

He rolls his head back, “I didn’t want that to be our subject change. Really?” But it’s too late because my mind has been reeling all day. I just want to apologize, even if he doesn’t want me to.

“Because I wasn’t joking. And if you were… that’s so shitty.” I frown, “And you said, we could pretend that we had teased each other the whole time. Were you doing that already?”

He tilts his head, staring at me. “I don’t know, sometimes.”

I pout, “I thought you were just being mean.”

He shrugs, “I mean I wasn’t teasing you to be nice.”

“But you were teasing!” I look at him, and catch his eyes before looking away again. “I wasn’t. I was being mean to be mean.”

“This conversation is just going in circles, you know that right?” His hand rests on my shin, and he squeezes it softly. “You were being mean because you thought I was being mean.”

I scoff, “That wasn’t what I should have done. I should have been nice even though I thought you were bad. I should have always been nice and maybe we could have found out that it was a misunderstanding sooner…”

“Well that’s not what happened and it's too late to change it now-”

“I just feel so awful, Jungkook.” My tears are falling again. “And- and I said some horrible things about you and to you… I am just so sorry.” My hand lifts to cover my mouth. Jungkook lets out a deep sigh, his eyes staring off at nothing. “I thought we weren’t apologizing anymore?”

I speak through the tears, “I’m sorry.”

“Eunjae…” He rolls his eyes. “Come on. You can’t feel bad for the rest of our friendship.” But couldn’t I? “We both did things we shouldn’t have and now it's over. You’ve apologized, like ten times now and I forgive you. So please let’s move on.”

“I can’t stop thinking about how mean I was-”

“Well stop thinking about it because I don’t care.” He doesn’t let me respond and moves back to my foot, uncovering the cloth. I flinch at the fabric sticking to my skin. “Sorry.” he mutters, opening the package to the sanitary wipe. “See the bleeding has already slowed. We’ll just go surfing later in the trip.”

“How do you not care? Because I care so much… and I don’t know how to stop.” I settle my breathing, “I wish I could take it back.”

He breathes in through his nose. “I care. I just don’t care about the things you said because I know that you wish you could take it back. You would never say those things again would you?”

“No”

“That’s all I care about. Right now. That’s what matters.” He wipes the sanitary wipe gently around the cut. “I wish I could take things back too, but I can’t and I know that so all there's left to do is watch what I say now.” Carefully he wipes over the cut itself, and I clench my jaw. “So I’m sorry for scaring you earlier, that wasn’t my intention.”

“I know-”

“Let me finish please…” He says quietly, “I am sorry for calling you butterfingers, and stealing the bedroom with the shower.”

I almost laugh, “Really? You don’t have to apologize for that...” He glares at me, but I can tell he’s trying not to smile. “I’m sorry for returning your comments with snide remarks all this time. I should have known that you took them personally.” His face falls, “No, I did know that, I just didn’t care and I should have. So I’m sorry.” He looks up at me.

“But you didn’t do anything wrong. I shou-”

“Eunjae just let me apologize.” He whines.

I suck it up, nodding. “I forgive you. I-”

“Good good.” He interrupts, tossing the sanitary wipes away. “We both forgive each other and now we are going to be friends?”

“I can’t tell if that's a joke or not.”

He smirks, “I’m being serious.” All his attention goes to wrapping my foot in gauze. It uses up the whole wrap to keep it secure on my foot, he tapes it for the final measure of security, and sits up from his seat. “It’s so late, but I’m not tired at all.” I’m not tired either and it is already 4:30. Time is going by so fast.

“If we don’t sleep we won’t be able to wake up for tomorrow.” I say, watching as Jungkook cleans up the floor. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wasn’t sure if I could trust you not to throw up.” The clean up is over and I get a new glass of water. “Now I can find the thermostat, I was sweating up there.” On the side of the wall by the fridge it waits for him. “Please don’t change.” The voice he uses to read the note is naggy. “It’s so hot though.”

“Just don’t wear a hoodie or sweatpants.” I mutter, helping myself stand.

He looks offended, “What and sleep naked?” He shakes his head, turning off the kitchen light.

“That is not what I said…” I squint. “Why do you have to be wearing such heavy things?” We make a slow trek up the stairs, Jungkook only talking to me who limps up each step.

“Well normally I don’t really sleep with a lot of clothing on but this is not my own bed so.”

“Just wear a shirt then…”

“But hoodies are comfortable.”

I smile, “yes they are.”

“If I could I would wear hoodies all the time.”

“What about your tattoos? They would just be covered up all the time.” We finally get up the stairs, whispering as to not bother Jin.

“Yeah that’s true, I just really think hoodies are comfortable.”

I shake my head, “yeah I get it, but that doesn’t mean you have to burn up the whole night.”

He fake pouts, pulling up his hoodie, “Since we can’t change the temp, I guess you’re right.” He lifts it over his head, his shirt going with it up his abs. I roll my eyes. Did he really just have to flash me? “Anyway, here.” He goes into his room for a moment, coming back with a pillow. “Here’s an extra pillow, put a couple under your foot to keep it elevated.”

I take it from him, “Yeah I know…” My lips purse together, and I glance into my room.

“Try and get some sleep.” He smiles softly.

“Hey Jungkook.” I breathe through my nose, and he hums. “Nevermind. It’s stupid.” My door creaks as I push it open to leave.

“No- what?” He steps away from his room and toward me. Oh boy he’ll never let me live this down.

“It’s humiliating -I” A blush creeps up onto my cheeks out of embarrassment. He gets closer, trying to regain eye contact. “Jungkook.” I look away.

“Eunjae-” his fingers ghost over my chin, a hesitancy not hidden before his fingers clasp at my jaw. I swallow upon eye contact, his eyes scanning over my face. He winks, “Is this what it was like in your dream?” And then pulls away.

“J-” my brows furrow. “Why’d you do that?”

He raises a brow, “What were you going to ask me?”

I shake my head. “No, no you answer me first, Why’d you do that?”

He grins, “To tease you of course. Why else?” I glare at him, turning away. Not before he can grab my shoulder and flip me around. “No, what were you going to ask me?”

I push him away, “No you ruined it. You’ll never know.” His face drops into annoyance. “Goodnight Jungkook.” I smile, limping backwards.

“Eunjae I wanna know.” He whines as he always does, making me roll my eyes. “Please, I'd like to carry you around or something tomorrow… Just tell me.” He makes puppy dog eyes, hands folded together all prayer like.

“No you’ve embarrassed me enough.”

He groans, “I’ll buy your dinner too.”

I sigh, that is a pretty good deal. “I was gonna ask-” My shoulders drop, and I’m not really believing that I am actually saying it outloud. “I was gonna ask if we could hug.” I glare. “There.”

He stares at me for a second. “That’s what you were going to ask me?” He looks almost amused.

“See- I didn’t want to tell you.” I groan, my cheeks still flush. How embarrassing, why did I even say it out loud? “It’s stupid.”

“No really- is that what you were going to ask me?” He softly chuckles, “that’s cute-” I shake my head, turning into my room. “No really Eunjae-” He stops me. “Is that really what you were going to ask?”

“Yes!” I step backwards, my voice raised. “Why do you keep asking that? I just said it didn’t I?” Why does he have to humiliate me further?

He sighs, “Stop doing that thing where you misunderstand me and get mad.” He steps towards me again. “You’re yelling and going to wake Jin up.” I look towards the bedroom Jin was staying in. He is right. God he is right. “Yes we can hug that’s a dumb question.”

I frown, “It’s just- we never have before and-”

“Yeah I know.” He smiles, pulling me into his chest before I can protest. “It’s because you are so repulsed by me.” His voice vibrates into my hair. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

I shake my head, trapped in his arms. “No I- I wasn’t” I look up at him, brows knitted together. “I’m not.” The guilt is brought back up again. I don’t want him to remember that.

His eyes shine between those lashes, a grin plastered on his face. “Good.” his breath brushes over my face. “Cause it really sucked when I thought you did.”

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, “It’s okay.” His eyes fall on my lips, is he thinking of actually kissing me or is he joking again? I blink, my eyes dropping to his chin. I could hug him tighter and say goodnight and then it would be over.

But his thumb drags against my cheek, pulling my eyes back up to his. Agonizingly slow, his head tilts to the side, his hair falling over his face. That tattooed hand sits against my back, holding me in his embrace. His heart is beating really fast, but it matches my own. Would he notice that? He takes a long deep breath, pressing his forehead against mine, my heart skipping a beat. Why isn’t he doing anything? Only his eye contact is consistent. I bite my gums, wanting to look away.

“I just want you to know that this time I’m not fucking around.” He whispers, leaning into my lips. His hand snakes around my neck, pulling me closer. His nose squishes against mine, lips soft and warm. The kiss I had missed in my dream. In an exhale he releases me from his tattooed arm. His eyes scan mine for a reaction.

I didn’t know what to say. “Good” is what comes from my mouth. Another dumb thing out of my lips. “I- I meant”

He laughs, “Thanks” he pinches my neck making me shrug away. Jungkook's lips meet my cheek.

“No I meant-” He shuts me up with another kiss, pulling me closer by my waist.

“Better than in your dream?” He smirks, eyeing me up and down.

“I meant that it’s-” Another kiss, his hand at the base of my neck, the other at my waist. He doesn’t let go so quickly this time. He smiles into the kiss. “Jungkook…”

“Okay,” he looks down at me, “go on.”

“I meant that it’s good that you aren’t fucking around.” I sigh, finally getting to breathe as well as speak. “I- why?”

“Why not?”

“I-”

He ruffles my hair, making me blush again. “I told you: I thought you were really cool. Mhmh. I do think that you’re really cool.”

“I didn’t think that was code for you wanting to kiss me.”

“You’re the one who had a dream about it.” he teases, “Now go to sleep, we’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The next day:

“God did you guys like fuck last night?” Jin looks disgusted at the two of us. I choke on my orange juice. Looking wildly between the two of them.

“Where the hell did you get that idea?” I say staring deep into my breakfast. Did he have to make it more awkward? I barely even knew what to do next after last night. What was that? Are we going to date? Is it going to be casual? Will it never happen again?

Jin squints, “Well, the tension in the room. I’m used to it with you too. But DAMN, it's never been so sexual.”

Jungkook snickers, swirling around his drink “No. No we did not. Just first base.” He winks and my mouth drops.

“Jungkook!” I throw a piece of toast at him, he really is going to expose us just like that?

He flinches, smiling. “I’m actually not sure what the bases are…”

Jin runs his hand through his hair, “I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

“Good.” I huff, biting into my breakfast. “All you need to know is the directions to the Acropolis.”

Like this? This is a one shot from my A Year of Fics with Han series found

here

Happy Jungkook day everyone !! :P

Greece is on fire click here for more information

y’all pls follow me 😭 i’m posting for joons bday as well and then i’m in a fest rn for bts abyss fest which will be on ao3!!

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waatermelon-sugaar · 4 years ago

Text

Want to kiss?

Pairing = Poe x reader

Words = 5.2k

Summary = You and Poe are friends. Acting married won’t lead to anything. Will it?

Warnings = SMUT (18+only); semi-public fingering, semi-public grinding, implication of a bj, also language

A/N = Prompt no.23 requested by @witchyavenger as part of my 300 follower celebration, thanks so much, hope you like it! Prompt was “Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?” w/ Poe and bolded in text

Also i might have concentrated more on the smut, than the plot, so if there are a couple of plot holes, that’s why, im not sorry

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

You weren’t looking forward to this.

A small, masochistic part of you was, but the larger part of you, the more sensible part, wanted to scream at the prospect.

Pretending to be a couple with Poe, to have the real thing so close in front of you, yet knowing that you couldn’t, made you want to cry. In fact, you already had.

The two of you had been briefed together, and told you would be acting as married senators at a gala. The way Poe’s face had tightened at the word ‘married’, made your chest hurt. He hadn’t said anything, but he didn’t need to before you’d drawn your own conclusions.

You’d tried not to think about it too much as the briefing had continued, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, and having to blink a little faster. You’d managed to keep it together until you’d gone back to your room, where you’d immediately burst into tears.

Poe couldn’t even stand the idea of being married to you?

You knew he wasn’t interested in you like that, but that hurt. Hurt more than you’d anticipated. Poe only had to pretend for a mission. And he didn’t want to do that? Now you’re sitting in front of the mirror, and you blow out a big breath. Not right now. Your make-up’s half on, and you don’t have the time to redo it if you start crying, now of all times.

And the truth was, it shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. You knew Poe. He was your friend and Commander, nothing more. He’d never given you any indication that he’d ever wanted more, never acted as anything but a good friend to you.

Now you were in the bathroom of a hotel on Coruscant, and Poe was next door and stars you had to share a bed tonight but you didn’t even want to think about that yet . All you had to do was finish your make-up, do your hair, put your fancy dress on, hope that Poe could bear to pretend to be married to you while the two of you looked for an opportunity to sneak upstairs, break into Senator Sewinn’s office, and gather any incriminating evidence stored there. Simple.

And that wasn’t counting getting out, and sharing a bed with Poe tonight, before your ship departed for the Resistance base tomorrow.

To put it simply, you were fucked.

But you’d pushed the emotions away, not wanting to address it. Not wanting to have that horrendous conversation. After all, it wasn’t a crime for someone not to fancy you.

Now you took a moment for yourself, looking up at the corner where the wall met the ceiling, and exhaling deeply.

Ok, think. What’s your first job? Make up.

You took your routine step-by step, finishing your makeup and hair, and pulling your dress on. You took the time to admire yourself in the mirror before you stepped out to face Poe, knowing that he was no doubt going to look absolutely dashing, while not caring either way about your appearance.

You knew that, except you did look good, even if you said so yourself. You let yourself breathe once more, hands fluttering out any invisible creases in the front of your dress. It had a nice cut for your chest, falling to the floor with a split down your right leg.

Ok. “Poe?” You knocked on the door before you returned to your room, not wanting to catch him in the middle of changing.

“I’m ready!” Comes the response, and you can’t help yourself, exhaling heavily again before greeting Poe.

You’d been prepared. Or so you thought.

You’d never seen Poe in a suit before, and it’s more than you could have ever imagined. He fills it out nicely, shoulders looking broader than ever. He’s brushed his hair neatly back, curls subdued for the night. They look darker than ever, strands curling over the back of his collar. Desire and heat are pooling low in your belly, your eyes slow in their movements as they graze over him

He’s freshly shaved after his shower, bronze skin glowing in the yellow light of the lamps scattered around the room. Your mouth is dry, and your breath shaky again. Poe’s looking at you funny, and you must be staring, so you clear your throat, shaking your head a little.

His tie is slightly to one side, so you step towards him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Can I-?” Your voice is a murmur as your hands reach out, one going to the centre of Poe’s neck. You straighten his tie, ignoring the warmth of his body below your hands and step back.

You hadn’t realised how intimate that would feel, how close you’d have to get, and now you feel overwhelmed, your body heating up, your heart beating faster. Poe’s looking at you with a strange look in his eyes, like he can’t quite figure out what your motives are, he can’t decide what you want.

Only, it’s not unusual, is it? Poe’s always been a touchy-feely person, hugging, holding hands, touching whenever he could, it didn’t tend to matter who it was, or what the situation was.

Except this feels different somehow, heavier. Like you crossed a line in your friendship that you weren’t aware existed. That the intimacy of fixing Poe’s tie, being this close to his body is teetering beyond friendship. Poe’s still looking at you with this heavy gaze, and maybe there’s something in his eyes, but you can’t bear to meet them, can’t bear to face the rejection you’ll find there.

So you swallow, fixing your gaze on the section of wall just to the left of his face, ignoring how your palms are singing from touching Poe, even through his shirt. They itch to do it again, hungry for more, and it takes all of your self control to stop yourself and to take a step back, widening the space between you.

“Shall we go?” You’re the first to speak, and at your words, Poe seems to snap out of it, closing down, any softness in his eyes, in his face, disappearing.

He nods, stiffer than he normally is around you, and you can only hope that he’ll loosen up when you get downstairs. “Here's your ring.” He reaches into his breast pocket and hands you a wedding band, gold and simple.

And you’ve been so distracted by the top half of him that you hadn’t seen his on his ring finger, hanging loosely at his side. You don’t say anything as you slip the cold jewellery on, your heart stuttering at the implication of something so plain.

Stepping out of your room, you take Poe’s offered elbow, and the two of you start your descent to the lobby. It takes you a while to get used to the breeze on your right leg, where your skin is exposed. The building is an old one, corridors extending in every direction with bedrooms and storerooms scattered in a seemingly random order. The lift is quiet, muzak playing faintly out of a tiny speaker.

“We’ve got this,” you murmur under your breath reassuring yourself. Poe looks at you, but doesn’t say anything, just patting your hand where it rests on his arm.

The transformation in him when you step into the hall is amazing. His smile, which you recognise enough to tell it’s fake, spreads across his face, and as you enter, he turns his head to your ear, murmuring, “I didn’t tell you how beautiful you looked before.”

There’s suddenly no air as you turn to look back at Poe, that familiar grin tugging on his lips. Your faces are close again, like a married couples, and you don’t try to hide the pleased look that’s clear across your face, feeling more flustered than you expected.

His eyes are encouraging, and you’ve never noticed how warm they are, what a soft brown. They’re lighter than you thought, having never been so close to his face before, dark irises increasing in size as he looks at you, waiting for your response.

You’re married, remember?

So you press your cheek to his smooth one, with a soft “thanks.”

You turn back to the crowd, missing how Poe’s gaze catches on you for a second longer than normal, instead concentrating on how no one noticed you walk in. Good. The room is busy already, you and Poe one of the last stragglers arriving. Soft music, not dissimilar to the one in lift is playing, largely drowned out by voices chattering away.

The ballroom is light and airy, yellow lamps creating a warm atmosphere, with a marble floor that causes your steps to click. There’s a bar near the entrance, and a stage to your left.

The beginning of the night is spent hanging off Poe’s arm, making conversation with Senators about brain-dead topics, Poe’s hand moving to squeeze yours in warning whenever you make a slightly too sarcastic comment, usually about the First Order really having an impact, and how it was about time someone made a monopoly of the galaxy anyway.

You push down the urge to be more sarcastic, if only to feel Poe’s skin on yours again.

No one seems to notice, especially not when you start to zone out, looking for opportunities to sneak away. The office had to be around this room somewhere; hours of poring over maps of the building had revealed a lot of empty space around the ballroom. And now Senator Sewinn was walking out of a concealed door in the back right of the room, which had to led to his office.

Unfortunately, he and a number of other important, puffed up looking peacocks of politicians seem intent to stand right in front of it, drawing, if anything, more attention to the door.

You huff, unknowingly scowling. What was the point of a secret door when you act like that? You may as well make a sign saying ‘Secret, Do Not Enter.’

“You alright, sweetheart?” Poe’s the one to drag you back to where you are, and you do one of those smug, self-centred couple smiles, one that you’d seen far too often, smoothing out your face.

“Yes, sorry honey.” You step back from the group, suddenly needing a moment. “If you’ll excuse me.” You direct this to the rest of the group, mumbling something about getting a drink, stumbling away, sure they won’t miss you. Poe’s behind you, his presence both stifling and a comfort.

When you reach the bar, his hand is on the small of your back, and he’s still so warm. How can his hand spread heat through your body like this? Through your dress? “Hey,” his mouth is by your ear again while you wait for the bartender. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, unsure yourself. “I don’t know Poe. Nothing.” Maybe it’s him. You can’t look directly at him, fearing you’ll combust.

It’s definitely him.

But instead, you turn your mouth back to his ear, close enough your mouth just grazes his earlobe as you talk. “Senator Sewinn isn’t leaving the door behind him.”

Poe looks behind you in a casual sweep of the room as you order two drinks.

When he turns back, his chest is pressing against you now, his arm around your waist, caging you into the bar, and you hope you don’t look as hot as you feel. You practically vibrate under his touch, the urge to push back into him stronger than ever. Poe’s blazer isn’t buttoned up, and it’s almost around you, you can feel the silk of his tie on your back.

Your breath sticks in your throat as he bends to whisper, again. This man is going to kill you. “Good spot sweetheart.”

Don’t press your hips back into him, you remind yourself, he’s there, but don’t do it.

You can smell the cologne Poe’s wearing too, the one he only uses on really special occasions and it’s making your head spin. Maybe you need some air.

You accept the drinks from the bartender, passing over some credits and turning in Poe’s arms, the cold glasses in your palms helping you a little, distracting you from the heat which seems to have settled in your core, pulsing in between your legs.

Except now you’re facing Poe, facing those warm brown eyes, and are they darker than they were before? Is this better or worse? Face to face, or chest against your back?

He’s licking his lips as he’s taking the drink from you and you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so bad. Breathe, in and out.

“Don’t worry, they’ll move,” it takes a second for you to tune back in, to realise what Poe is talking about. “Sewinn has to make a speech at the other end of the hall, we’re to move then, when everyone’s distracted, remember?”

His voice is soft, quiet, and you do remember, that the movements he’s describing are all part of the plan, have been ever since the brief, but this man who’s crowding you into the bar, the sharp edge cutting a vertical line into your back, is distracting you from the mission.

This mission, which is important for the Resistance.

The mission, which you can’t fail at.

And, more than that, you can’t let Poe down.

He’s not interested, you have to remind yourself when a pang of disappointment shoots through you as he steps back. This is fake, you’re fake married.

Somehow the reminder doesn’t help.

You sip your drink, cold liquid shooting down your throat as you look anywhere but at him.

The introductory section drags. You don’t return to the group you were talking to before, instead choosing to stay near the bar, exchanging the odd observation with Poe, the two of you consistently getting closer than you really need to talk.

He’s acting more normal now, his smile more natural as he relaxes. His hand has found a home on you, it doesn’t seem to matter where, moving from your shoulder to your back to your waist. You don’t dare mention it, afraid he’ll stop, when that’s the last thing you want.

Sometimes you feel like a black hole, desperately looking for love and touch, and sucking up whatever you can find, always needing more. You hate to think that maybe that’s what you cherish most about your friendship with Poe - that even as his friend, he touches you, and hugs you, and gives you a kiss. Although it does spark the idea of Poe being cuddly in bed, that if you ever went out with him, he would always try and have his hands on you. You allow yourself these soft dreams for a moment, before tuning back in before Poe can notice.

You’ve nearly finished your drink when the quiet background music starts to fade, and to your delight Sewinn begins to move. The crowd easily parts for him, and you wonder briefly what it is about him that makes people so responsive. What would it be like to have that kind of power?

You grasp Poe’s hand, feeling his calluses on your palm when he makes his move, pulling him to stay with you a second longer. “Wait for him to settle,” you say, knowing there’s no rush, yet.

And so you do, the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder, pretending to listen to the senator’s drivel. And then he turns, looking for the trophy he’s using to make his announcement more convincing, and you pull Poe along the back wall, still holding his hand as you lean against the hidden door and allowing a grin as it clicks open.

And you’re in.

You blink in surprise when you realise it’s really been that easy. You’d expected at least a locked door to get in the way. But no, you’re standing in the Senator's office, looking at a large desk, footsteps suddenly muffled by the plush carpet and still holding Poe’s hand.

You drop it like you've been burned, not daring to look at Poe as you go to the other side of the desk. There’s bookshelves around all the walls, creating a slightly dark and gloomy look, especially in contrast with the light ballroom next door.

You start going through the drawers as Poe plugs in the holostick that he’d been given, downloading files for later reading. Most drawers contain useless information, files on drinks needed for the party, a bill for the band later, business cards and other junk. There’s one locked drawer you can’t open, even when you try and pick it.

You give it a kick in frustration when it still doesn’t open, earning a snicker from Poe. “Did that help, sweetheart?”

You scowl at him, not bothering to answer, and determined to not mention the fact that your foot really hurts now. “How long left?” you ask, deflecting instead.

“Two minutes,” is the answer and you nod, going to one of the bookshelves, hand idly tracing down a number of spines. None are in a language you recognise, and when you turn back to tell Poe so, you find him leaning against the desk and watching you. His legs seem longer at this angle, thighs … bigger. And you’ve seen this man with a harness wrapped around his legs like a second skin.

You wonder what it would be like to … You shake your head before you can finish that thought, mouth dry even as you remind yourself that Poe’s your friend. Your friend. “I can’t read any of these,” you tell him instead, watching his head snap up to meet your eyes as you talk.

And then a lot of things happen very quickly.

Before Poe can respond, the holostick beeps, he unplugs it, just as the door to the ballroom clicks open. Before you can react, he’s closing the steps between you, holostick clasped in a fist, crowding you into the bookshelf behind you. When he speaks, it’s a low, quiet, “I’m sorry,” his forearm coming to rest next to your head, and you can smell him again, eyes falling closed like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The scent is familiar and grounding, and even as your heart rate picks up, you feel calmer, Poe’s other hand holding your cheek. His head turns, your noses bumping and his lips are so close to you … he’s going to kiss you.

And then he stops, except he’s moving like he is kissing you, and you realise his hand is connecting your two faces and there’s someone else in the room, so you don’t think, you just react. You widen your legs so Poe can step between them, and you let out a breath, nearly but not quite grinding on his leg, moaning low in your throat as one of your hands flies to the nape of Poe’s neck.

“Excuse me!” The guard’s voice is sharp, and cross, which is fair enough, you later reason, when you think that you wouldn’t want to find two people snogging in your boss’s office. Awkward one to report, that.

Poe is slow to separate from you, his eyes dark when he opens them, and you're breathing embarrassingly fast considering he didn’t actually kiss you. He turns, standing just in front of you, a protective stance, whether he realises it or not.

“Sorry, sir,” his voice is more hoarse than normal, and you never realised what a good actor Poe is. You sheepishly smile at the guard who just huffs and ushers you outside, grumbling about how disrespectful the two of you are and warning you not to do it again.

The two of you stand in the hall, Sewinn just wrapping up his speech. Your head is spinning and you can’t think.

Poe seems entirely unaffected by the whole thing, winking at you as he grins, joining in with the clapping at the end of the speech. You copy him, but you feel like you’re moving at half the speed of everyone else, your whole body screaming to be surrounded by Poe again.

“Are you alright?” Poe asks you, and is it that obvious that you aren’t? You can only nod, not trusting your voice to be steady. “I’m sorry … about, in there, I just-”

“Stars, Poe.” You interrupt, not wanting to hear it. “It’s fine, it was good, quick thinking on your part.” You force a smile, and if Poe notices, he drops it. “We did it, though,” You add after a second, the silence between you somehow worse.

Poe grins, and you know you’ll be ok, the breathless, hot feeling gradually fading, your senses tuning back into the room around you, hearing the band setting up, everyone moving around you. “We did.” Is all he says, extending his hand in mock performance when the band start playing. “May I have this dance?”

You allow yourself to relax, graciously accepting it. “Why, kind sir, of course!” The two of you are giggling as you start to dance, neither of you aware of what the steps are, just concentrating on having a good time. The music isn’t particularly great; the stuffy sort that politicians think make them look classy, when really it just makes them look like pretentious assholes.

You both get bored of this pretty soon, Poe losing his jacket as the two of you get warmer and warmer, dancing ridiculously in a corner.

When your feet begin to hurt you pull on Poe’s hand, taking him away from the dancefloor. The hall is hot, and you want fresh air. You feel flushed, the cold air nice on your warm cheeks.

You’re walking along the corridor back to your room, talking about the best song you’d play to start a party. Poe’s jacket under hanging off his arms, hands stuffed in his pockets. You try not to look directly at him too much as the two of you discuss better songs. “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy is one that would definitely get everyone going.” Poe says it likes it’s the simplest thing in the world, his answer the definitive one, while you snort.

“You only think that because you want an excuse to ask everyone that all the time. No - Gimme, Gimme, Gimme is the best. Hands down.” Maybe you’re just as bad as he is. “Rasputin is another good one,” you add, “there’s dance moves and everything.”

“No!” Poe’s voice is low, exaggerating his horror by dragging out his vowels, being over-dramatic now, “the best one for dance moves is Rock the Boat.”

You ruffle his hair in that way he hates. “You like that because you can sit down!” Your laughter is interrupted when Poe’s head snaps up, looking towards the end of the corridor.

You pause, looking for the cause of the change in Poe’s attention. Hearing the voices approaching you, he grabs your hand, pulling you into an alcove, pulling the curtain across. There’s hardly room for the two of you to breathe, bodies pressed together, wall cold on your back as you listen to the footsteps coming closer.

“... and Sewinn is going to want his whores there.” A nasal voice, coming closer.

You stop breathing, glancing at Poe, who shakes his head. “The usual ones?” The question is spat by a deeper voice, while the other person presumably nods. “Fuck! They think they have more influence, always looking down on us, when Sewinn listens to us.”

Poe’s hand fumbles around yours, fingers intertwining and squeezing gently in comfort, sending electricity up your arm. The same deep voice continues down the corridor, passing you. “And he just can’t get enough of them, especially that boy with the awful fashion sense, I mean really...”

The voice fades gradually, passing you in a blur in the corner of your eye. You determinedly concentrate on looking at the fluttering curtain, a shade of blood red, suddenly too shy to look at Poe.

This mission has been a lot. Working with Poe, who you have a desperate crush on, pretending to be married, and now standing far too close for comfort while you listen to people talk complain about influence in the Senate. You can’t hold it in any longer, the two of you dissolving into giggles, bodies collapsing forwards, Poe’s jacket landing on the floor with a soft whump.

And maybe it’s the release of this tension but when you finally compose yourselves, leaning back as much as you can in the small space even though you could leave, or maybe it’s the fact that his thumb is now massaging your palm, but the words tumble out before you can think.

“Poe I like you.” He hasn’t let go of your hand yet, which is a good sign, right? But he also hasn’t said anything, so you keep talking. “Like you, like you, I mean.” Why can’t you shut up? There’s something unreadable in Poe’s eyes. “Like I would quite like to go on a date with you sometime and maybe -”

Eventually Poe stops you with his free hand, covering your mouth for a beat, enough to get you to shut up. Is he closer? You didn’t think it was possible. His face is unreadable, even as he looks into your eyes, considering something “Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?”

Your mind goes blank, your mouth dropping open as Poe removes his hand, going to his tie, loosening the knot. “What?” you just manage to stammer out.

Poe just tips his head, like he’s considering the best angle to kiss you. “I like you like you too, sweetheart.” He’s teasing, but it’s fond, you realise with a rush of affection. All night he’s been looking at you like this, with fondness. “Can I kiss you?” He’s almost begging.

Words escape you. You nod, unable to breathe, unable to talk anymore. Poe leans towards you, tilting his head, eyes closed, long lashes fluttering on his cheeks. At the last second, you remember to close your eyes, kissing him back.

His hand moves to your hip, pulling you towards him, where you can feel him, already half-hard under his trousers, pressing against you. Poe slides his hand under the split in your skirt, warm hand on your skin, pulling your leg up as his hand travels down your thigh, settling into the crook of your knee, opening your legs and pulling your core closer to him.

You catch on, wrapping your leg happily around his waist, not caring how exposed you must be, gasping when you grind against him again, and Poe’s even harder now, the seam of his trousers catching on something pleasurable between your legs. You’re already more aroused than you really have any right to be, considering he’s hardly done anything to you yet, but you’ve been thrumming at a low level all evening.

You’re still kissing, even as he grinds against you, pushing you more into the wall behind you, and you feel overwhelmed, already, in the best way possible. All you can hear are your combined breaths, breathy sighs that fill the small space. You feel hot, nearly overheating, the cool wall balmy on your flushed skin behind you.

You forget where you are, what you’re supposed to be doing, Poe taking over all your senses. His tongue is in your mouth, teeth biting at your lip and all you can do is let him. Your free hand moves to his hair, tugging gently and feeling a pull of satisfaction in your core at his low groan. His hair is soft, and thick and you don’t want to let go, the sudden image of pulling on his hair when his head’s between your thighs jumping to your mind’s eye.

You finally let go of his hand so you can hold onto his shoulders, the crisp white shirt becoming crumpled in your grasp and helping you balance on one leg. Poe’s now-free hand pulls your skirt fully up around your waist, no doubt causing some creases and teases you, playing with the hem of your underwear, fingers tracing circles into your hip.

You groan into his mouth, you can feel yourself getting wetter, and your hips unconsciously buck into his hands, wanting more. When Poe pulls back, resting his forehead on yours, you’re both breathless. His eyes have blown wide, and you’re sure yours look the same. You’re panting a little, even as Poe keeps his movements regular, grinding his dick into you, moving his hips up and adjusting his position with every moan you let out.

“So good to me, sweetheart.” He’s kissing down your neck now. “You feel so good, you … urgh … you don’t even know how much you turn me on…” He sounds breathless, even as he continues to talk.

And then he surges up, hitting your clit and you can’t help it, crying out. Pleasure’s building in your body, all centred around Poe, and you want more of it, more of him. You can’t see Poe’s face, but you feel the smirk he presses to your skin as he does it again. And then his hand that’s playing with your underwear moves, pulling it away from your skin, dipping his hand down and stroking one long finger through your wet folds.

The moan you let out is broken. “Poe…” That’s all it takes for him to push his finger inside you, motioning gently towards himself. You can hear how wet you are as a second finger joins the first, a steady squelch in time with his movements. His fingers are thicker than yours are, and you feel dizzy at the thought of being stretched on his dick. His palm is grazing against your clit with every movement, steady and repetitive.

Poe’s fingers feel so good, moving inside you, gently building you higher and higher while he watches your face, kissing your jaw, your ear. Your moans come out in breathy whines, repetitions of his name, and soft oh’s of pleasure. You can only hold onto him, trusting he’ll catch you if your leg gives out, only half-aware that anyone could walk past and hear or see Poe utterly destroy you.

You start to moan more and before you even realise what’s happening, Poe’s greedily kissing you as you fall apart from his fingers. He keeps kissing you as he works you through it, your pussy clenching around his fingers, his tongue in your mouth while your hips buck forwards still.

You’d feel embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good. “Yes, by the way,” His voice is low as he moves to kiss the soft spot under your ear now. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

You can only frown as Poe removes his fingers from inside you, glistening wet and placing them on your lips, pushing gently until you open your mouth, swirling your tongue around his fingers, your own tart taste filling your mouth. “What?” You mumble, Poe’s digits muffling your voice.

“I’d quite like to go on date with you sometime too.”

You nod slowly, your post-orgasm haze lifting slower than normal. “Can we go to bed first?” Poe’s fingers are still half in your mouth, and you suck on the tips a little for emphasis, widening your eyes. And then you get an idea. “Or, actually,” you purr, removing your leg from Poe’s waist, and gently pushing his shoulders so he hits the wall behind him as you drop to your knees in front of him. “Maybe we should stay here for a minute.”

***

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

this is the suit I was imagining, but the hair was all wrong for Poe. also I know that there are technically no suits in Star Wars canon, but I wanted to write it this way so

#poe dameron #Poe Dameron x reader #poe x reader #star wars #poe dameron fanfic #poe fanfic #Star Wars fanfic

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samwrights · 4 years ago

Text

I Found You

I have no excuses for this one except I’m a dirty dirty Overhaul fucker.

On the real though, this one was very loosely inspired from Yagami Yato’s plot lines for Dabi and Overhaul. These routes inspired the Underground and Dabi and Kai’s occupations, otherwise everything else was just me being a simp.

⤞ Pairing: tattooed!Reader x Former Villain!Chisaki Kai

⤞ Word Count: 16,850. Yes you read that right.

⤞ Warnings: language, arson, awkward questions, reader smokes, I shafted Dabi again and made him the best friend...again, slightly vivid gore, mentions of death, male masturbation, daddy kink, age difference, breeding kink (ish), dirty talk, dom!Kai,

I’m sorry this is so long. Just kidding, no I’m not. I love writing really long fics. Honestly, I’m trying to see how much I can push the boundaries of my writing and how long I can keep one idea conhesive and consistent and how much I can flesh out. Eventually these longer oneshots will be cross-posted to my AO3, I just really need to do my paper. Also Tropium Tattoos is pronounced as Tro-Pie-Um.

The color of fire always burns in accordance to temperature as well as the material that it’s burning. Watching the local Underground clinic slash orphanage burn not only red, but an almost ethereal green from the copper couplings and details of the building felt like an early Christmas warning—like the Underground was a target and the rest of the hidden city would soon follow by the holiday. That warning was only followed by disgust at the thought of someone feeling the need to go after a free clinic and orphanage in a city built out of a hollow sewer full of exiles for whatever fucking reason.

Your heart is an amalgam of aching and sorrow and anger as you watch the flames burst through the windows of the shoddy building from a safe distance. From where you stood outside of your tattoo parlor only two blocks down, you see a crowd beginning together. Much to your surprise, most of them were only kids with one adult herding them—a man you recognized to be the owner of the building currently meeting its demise.

The doctor of the clinic is as calm as ever, or rather trying to be, quietly attempting to do a headcount of his children. It seemed that concentration was alluding him, given the situation, because he swears up and down that he knows he has nine kids. Yet, he seemed to be unable to count past eight. He’s trying not to panic, but one of the kids speaks his greatest fear into fruition. “Daddy, Eri’s not here!” Golden eyes widen until the sclerae are fully round, pupils constricting in fear. This ‘Eri’ was special, you realize as you observe from a short distance away. The doctor is looking back at his children who are all in some form of tears and shambles then back at the burning building like a ferocious game of ping pong. Chisaki Kai can’t just leave his kids out here—not when he is almost certain that this attack was premeditated. But his daughter, his eldest daughter at that, was still inside potentially being engulfed by flames.

Back and forth.

Your body moves without a second thought.

Your body moves, ignoring the screams from other bystanders for you not to go inside the burning clinic as you burst past the dilapidated red door. Upon entering, copper decor and steel support beams had fallen from the ceiling, sparking flames that were separating you from the stairwell that led up to the orphanage. There was no way you would be able to find this Eri person through the wreckage—not alone at least. Maybe your dumb quirk was good for something.

You didn’t even realize you had a quirk until the age of twenty when you had gotten your first tattoo. It wasn’t anything crazy—a traditional-style three-eyed wolf’s head on your arm—only to wake up the following morning with no soreness, no tenderness, and no ink on your body. The wolf laid beside you, curled up in your bed, somehow manifesting into real life. At first it was terrifying, of course, but after learning how to return the creature back to your body you realize it might not have been a total waste of money. Your quirk, something you jokingly called the Magic Pencil quirk in reference to a Spongebob Squarepants episode from your childhood, was officially registered through the government on the Surface as Life Canvas. Again, it was a pretty dumb quirk unless you knew just what to utilize. Now your body was littered with dozens of creatures, weapons, hell even a telephone just in case you might need it. But the wolf was your favorite, as it was your first, and he was just the one to call for in this situation. Activating your quirk, you pinch at the ink on your forearm until it begins to peel off before setting it down on the ground. The line work stands on its own before the ink fills out into a three-dimensional mass and a now recognizable creature.

“There’s a child somewhere here. Help me find them,” you implored your creation, cautiously climbing around the shambles while it did the same, though much nimbler than you. Fragments of the stairs were missing, some of railings were in flames—it was hard for you to get anywhere at the moment. A scream rips through the walls, a young girl you realize. She’s probably now seeing your large and somewhat creepy three-eyed wolf. Maneuvering carefully, you find spots that have yet to burn until you see a little girl cowering away from flames in her bedroom and away from your quirk. “Take my hand!” You try to scream, but the way building was going down was deafening. Instead, you cross a patch of fire to scoop the frail child in your arms and trapping the both of you behind a brazen wall of flames. Patting the wolf on the head, as if deflating it with your magical hands, it flattens back into a two dimensional drawing and returns to your body to grant you the ability to switch out to a manifestation that would prove to be more useful in this situation. You repeat the process, this time with a Phoenix from under your bosom that emerges just outside the window closest to the two of you. “Hold on tight,” you tell her as you pull her flush against your own body before smashing through glass to land the back of the Phoenix, covering her head to make sure the shards didn’t mar her skin. With a gentle descent, you place her feet first on the concrete with her family.

“Eri!” The doctor of the clinic calls out in relief, arms wrapping around his daughter tightly. Your lips purse in a small, tight smile before you’re off on your way again, riding off into the horizon on the back of your strange creature. And for a moment, Chisaki Kai is torn between going after you to thank you while Overhaul wants nothing more than cleanse his children and you for touching his precious daughter with a vile quirk. He settles on the former, golden eyes watching your back disappear into the dark cavern of the Underground city.

Weeks had passed since the fire burned down the orphanage clinic. Tabloids were published trying to figure out who the mysterious hero was, though most of the articles feared that an actual Hero was among the residents of the Underground. The Underground welcomes Heroes like the human body welcomes the plague—they tried to be eradicated and killed off. Not to say that quirks themselves weren’t welcome, no. It’s just that most of the residents were quirkless and those that did have one were all registered in a public database, separate from the government mandated one up on the Surface, so that quirk wielders were no secret.

All but you, anyway.

One of these well-known resident holders was Chisaki Kai. Quirk: Overhaul. Local doctor and caretaker of the orphaned, quirkless kids. Though, whether their powers had yet to manifest or he had removed them himself due to his vile distaste for the genetic mutation was unknown to the public.

Another was the leader of the Underground: Dabi. The Cremation user who was presently lounging in one of your dingy, beat up sofas of your tattoo shop. “You know, most of the people just want to know who you are,” he supplies, flipping through the most recent news article. Instantly, he knew it was you that had rescued the little girl from the burning building, knowing full well of your quirk regardless of how rarely you used it.

“And half of them want my head because they think I’m a Hero,” you spit the last word out as you finish tidying up your workspace. Your last client of the evening had just left, leaving you to close up shop while Dabi came to bother you as you did so. Not that you complained considering he had been a close friend for a long time. “Like I would ever be a Hero.” Heroes were the reason you and many others here in the Underground existed in this hidden sewer metropolis. Whether the Heroes had destroyed their livelihoods, their families or, in your case, accidentally killed your parents while you were still a teenager and you had nowhere to go, they were at fault for the creation of this cozy, dingy city.

“Says here that Eri wishes to personally thank you,” Dabi adds, turquoise eyes flickering in your direction as you stop at the mention of her name. “We could hold some little rally, get you a medal—“

“Dabi, no.”

“—or you could just stop by town hall with me. Overhaul and the kids have been staying there while the clinic gets rebuilt.” You mull his words over in your head while capping all your ink bottles and putting them away in their respective drawers. Dabi takes your silence as a gesture of you thinking, even more so as you aggressively sanitize your client chair. “Come on, [ name ], she’s just a kid.”

“Yeah, but I hate kids.”

“Then stop acting like one.” With that, the leader leaves your shop, bells tolling as he exits. You weren’t being childish, you internally bite, silently and stubbornly. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t want to just announce that the lone tattoo artist of the Underground had a quirk that the public didn’t know about. It wasn’t your fault that your body moved without thinking. And it certainly wasn’t your fault that you rescued the daughter of the most notorious quirk hater in the city.

Chisaki Kai was not quiet when it came for his distaste of quirks despite having one himself. Rumors floated all around the Underground that all of the children in his care had their quirks removed by his own hand, Eri included. What kind of monster did that? To his own child, no less. The thought made you sick to your stomach, only reaffirming your initial decision to not meet with Eri.

But thinking of her brings great sadness to you. She was merely a child—a child who probably didn’t understand her father’s distaste. A kid who just wanted to thank the woman who saved her and nothing else. A sigh passes your lips as you head up the stairs from your shop to your attached apartment, turning off the lights to Tropium Tattoos. It’s not fair to deny her, you think.

Maybe you’ll just sleep on it for now.

The following morning was quiet, as it was every morning in a city built out of a sewer. But eerily...too quiet. The sound of chirping nature and wildlife was a foreign concept now, especially years later. But there were no sound of bikes or clunky old cars passing by or arguing neighbors—if noise was present at all, it was in the form of faint crackling and crinkling of papier-mâché but somehow on a grander scale. It was new. There’s a grotesque smell in the air; a cross between a stale bonfire and rotting wood and warm smoke.

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

Panic fills your veins, throwing your nearly bare body out from under the covers. Ripping open your bedroom door and flying out the narrow entryway that led to the stairwell, you’re met with orange flames burning the wood of your staircase leading down to your shop. There’s no time for you to think about anything other than retreating back to your living room, to where the flames had yet to enter the threshold. Glancing out the large bay window behind your couch, you debate how steep of a drop it is from your second story down onto the cold pavement without sparing a second thought to how you could break your own fall. Contemplation wears down at your time to escape, you realize, as the fire is now entering your living space and burning brightly like a firework and catches onto the wooden console table in your entryway as well as the walls. Without another moment’s hesitation, you throw yourself through the window, bracing for impact from both the glass and the inevitable shattering of at least one bone.

“[ name ]?!” You hear Dabi yelling over the sound of collapsing support beams from the inside of the building. All that’s on your mind is pain—throbbing pain and an ear-splitting cry as you try to cradle your probably broken arm from the back alley of your shop. Dabi calls out your name again, running over towards you while still trying to be somewhat mindful of all the shards of glass in fear of accidentally kicking more in your direction. Between rapid breaths, a few heavy coughs escape your lungs, no doubt from smoke inhalation. “I got you,” he murmurs as he picks you up gingerly. Another groan leaves your lips—your whole body hurts and were you more coherent and not in shock, you probably would have realized sooner that you’d broken more than just your arm. “Find who did this and bring them to me,” Dabi snarls at the small squadron behind him attempting to put out the fire that was destroying your livelihood as he makes his way back to town hall.

It takes everything in Dabi’s body to not stamp his entire way back into his living quarters and the only reason he isn’t is because he’s carrying your busted body. This is the fourth fire in two weeks with no discernible pattern. All he knows is that it started with Overhaul’s clinic and now has somehow reached your quaint and quiet tattoo shop. As a leader, it makes Dabi want to tear his hair out. As a friend, he’s just pissed off.

He’s thankful you’ve passed out just so he doesn’t have to deal with you bitching about how gruff he’s being. Though, it certainly dawned on him that you had probably fallen unconscious from the sheer agonizing pain of breaking multiple bones simultaneously. He sets you down, far from gently, in the residential living room upstairs of the Town Hall building. “Overhaul!” He bellows out, not even caring if the children heard his angry tone right now.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” the doctor appears from around the corner, a clearly agitated look on his face, even beneath a simple black mask. The irony isn’t lost on Dabi despite his composure—he remembers once upon a time when Kai only went by the name of his quirk. Funny how years go by. “Her again?” Overhaul all but sneers, looking at your limp body that was covered only in a thin tee shirt and a pair of panties. Ignoring that little fact of seeing so much painted flesh, he notices the distinct smell of burnt wood and swelling under the skin where the breaks were. “What happened to her?”

“Someone set [ name ]’s tattoo shop and apartment on fire. She jumped out of a window to get out.” Dabi is absolutely seething, little sparks of blue flames leaving his nostrils as he lets out tufts of air. “Idiot had no idea how to break her fall and busted her shit. Can you help her?”

“I suppose that would make us even.” The doctor snarks back thoughtlessly, but he can’t help but wonder why you didn’t use your little quirk to save yourself as you had with Eri.

“Good. I’m gonna go find this fucker.” With that, Dabi storms out of the living room and out of the town hall building, leaving Kai with the woman that saved his daughter’s life. At least maybe now, Eri could say thank you like she had been asking to do. He could say thank you.

Chisaki adjusts you on the couch so that you’re entirely flat on the cushions, mindful of the glass that’s embedded in your skin. If anything, he should probably remove those first. With gloved hands, he picks out all the shards he can see with his golden eyes while his mind wanders as he looks at the lines and colors of the tattoos that covered your body. From neck to toe, there was ink on nearly every inch—even the one dragon-snake hybrid on your face that wrapped around your temple and cheekbone. Despite your [ hair color ] locks matting your skin, Overhaul found all of your tattoos rather intriguing to look at; almost as if it weren’t flesh because the contact wasn’t causing him to break out in hives. Like your body told a story without you even needing to speak.

After getting all the glass cleared up, Kai gently pushed on your arms and legs, checking for any signs of bones out of place from where they should be or cushioning and swelling to protect the damaged areas, outside of the very obvious ones that nearly looked like softballs. Two breaks in your femur, four in your ulna from what he could feel—nothing that Overhaul couldn’t fix. Though, he had to make sure that everything had set the way it was supposed to and that you were able to use your limbs after he did the repair. That meant he would actually have to speak to you, and he comes to the realization the two of you never actually had the chance to speak to each other before. Maybe he shouldn’t be as judgmental of the fact that you had a defect—maybe you were like him and abhorrent at the fact that you had a mutation to begin with.

After using his own quirk, Overhaul checks for a pulse on your neck with two fingers, making sure you at least had a heartbeat before patiently waiting for you to regain consciousness. In the meantime, he continues picking out the fragments of glass that escaped his initial sweep—a task made slightly easier when the shards caught the light contrasted the dark lines embedded in your dermis. For a brief second, you stir against his touch before your eyes snap open. “Holy fuck, what happened?” You all but howl when you come to. You let out a deep gasp for breath, suddenly aware of the dull throbbing in your arm and leg as you attempt to make sense of your surroundings.

“Can you tell me if this hurts?” The doctor to your left says evenly, emotionless even, as he holds your wrist between his thumb and middle finger, moving your arm in all sorts of ways. A sharp inhalation sucks in between your teeth as it twists in ways you weren’t sure it could before. A grimace touches his lips underneath is plain, black cloth mask—maybe he didn’t set the bones correctly? Overhaul lays your arm flat, ready to make his adjustments, but as his gloved fingers padded closer, you found yourself retreating further into the depths of the couch cushions.

“I-I’m good,” your words come rushing out, desperate to dodge his touch. Why did you wake up with Overhaul over you? Did he take your quirk away? You’d have to investigate further when you were alone, test it out in private. Ignoring the dull hums of pain coming from your arms and legs, you manage to sit up, slumping over your knees before you realized where you were. “Town hall?”

“Yes. Do you remember anything?” You shake your head—you remember waking up to smelling the smoke in your apartment. You remember the fire creeping up the stairwell and the way orange painted your once tan walls. You remember jumping out the window, but everything else after is met with a blank slate. “You broke your arm and legs in a few places—I reset them with my quirk.”

“Oh,” is all you have to say. “Uh, thank you.”

“Speaking of thank you,” Overhaul palms his knees before pushing off of them from the wooden stool he’s sitting on, standing at his full height and smoothing out his black dress shirt and slightly creased slacks. “My daughter would like to thank you for rescuing her a few weeks back.”

Dammit.

It wasn’t like you could just say no to Eri’s father when it was only the two of you—that would just make you look like an asshole or worse; he could just kill you and say you died in the fire. It was even more difficult to decline considering the young, silver-haired girl was peeking her head from behind a partition, wide-eyed when her dad mentioned her. With your own eyes softening at the sudden contact, you offer an awkward smile that you pray comes off as welcoming. Overhaul beckons her to come closer, holding one hand open until the young girl is tucked underneath his hip.

“U-Um, t-thank you for saving me,” a squeak spills past her dry lips before she runs out of the room as quickly as she came. You didn’t blame her. Even if Overhaul is her father, he gave off an intimidating air that surely would frighten any child. It made you wonder how such a man ran an orphanage. But to your surprise, Eri returned, though this time not alone. A flock of children was accompanying her, each of them with bright eyes and big smiles adorning their unique appearances.

“Thank you for saving our sister!” They chime in unison. The sight made your heart swell and soften, even if only slightly. Eri steps forward cautiously, pushing through her own trepidation as she stands before you and throws herself at you, hugging you tightly with arms around your neck in gratitude. As if triggering a domino effect, a few of the other children felt the need to express the same sentiment. An uncomfortable laugh bubbles past your lips as you awkwardly wrap your arms around the gaggle of kids—you may not like them, but you weren’t that much of an asshole to deny them a hug.

Kai’s typically hard, cold expression mellows at the sight. It’s heartwarming, he gave it that, but a part of him cannot stave off the tiny bubble of envy he feels seeing his children so ready to embrace you when they initially had such a hard time adjusting to life with him. He loved these kids—and it was quite clear you felt the opposite—so why hadn’t they gravitated towards him like they did you? Underneath his mask, he grimaced before internally shaking his head. They were his children, they loved Kai regardless and he knew that. “Alright kids, why don’t you go play and let [ name ] rest? It’s been a rough morning for her.” The use of your name shouldn’t have shocked you, or maybe it was fear that crawled up your spine at the doctor’s endearing tone. You weren’t aware that he knew who you were. The kids let out a collective groan before listening to their father and exiting the living room. As soon as each of their little, youthful heads is out of sight, you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“S-sorry,” you mumble out, suddenly reminding yourself that it was probably rude of you to make a sound as such and you wanted to make sure you did nothing to insult Overhaul to his face. A huge part of you felt that one wrong word out of your mouth meant the end of your quirk or your life.

“It’s alright, I know they can be a handful. Though, they seem to be quite taken with you.” His tone is still rather polite, you notice, and his voice is entirely different than what you’d thought it would be in a one on one interaction. You thought it would be deeper, as whispers and rumors of Chisaki Kai being an incredibly cruel, bitter man painted a different picture in your head. But the man standing before you looked every bit as broken as you felt on the inside—as if a part of him had an empty chasm residing in his chest that could not be filled by the nine children in his care.

“I can’t imagine why,” you reply.

“Neither can I,” he says without skipping a beat, his tone still airy and light. Before you can rebuttal with your quick wit, Dabi storms in with his eyes locked on to your now conscious body. Gesturing with his head, over exaggerating the folds of his damaged skin, he encourages you to follow him downstairs to the mayoral study. Silently, you sauntered off behind him, leaving Overhaul alone in the living room, while you could feel the internal flames burning within Dabi. Pissed didn’t even begin to describe the look on his face.

In the office, photographs of burnt down buildings, rubble, and the skeletal framework of Underground businesses were littered across the large, maple desk. All the while, the leader of the Underground was grumbling to himself repeatedly while tugging at his raven locks in frustration. Not only had someone burned down local businesses in the city, let alone a close friend’s business, but it seemed that someone was attacking his city from the inside. “I wasn’t able to save Tropium.” You offer no response, mostly because there isn’t one to have. You felt anguish over losing your home, sure, but knowing how hard Dabi worked to protect the Underground, you can’t quite imagine how he’s feeling.

Instead, you respond with, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I should be asking you that. Your home is gone, [ name ].” He had a valid point. Perhaps you could find a few local contractors and give them some work—it wasn’t like you didn’t have the money to spare. But that would probably take some time considering, from photo evidence, the place—all of them—was going to need to be built from the ashes. “Stay here while you figure it out. It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t you already have Overhaul and the kids staying here?” Maybe Dabi didn’t notice the way your voice trembled as you spoke his name, even more so after having woken up to him by your side. But the thought of you, a quirk wielder that kept that little fact hidden from the public, temporarily boarding with a man who was vehemently against the abomination of quirks gave you severe anxiety. Additionally, there was the nine little children that also were a factor and the thought of one of them waking up in your temporary residence and intruding on what little privacy you would have—

“And?” Dabi asks, pulling you from your reverie. “[ name ], I know I don’t say this enough, but you’re one of my closest friends. I don’t feel right not giving you a place to sleep.” His quirk may be Cremation, but Dabi was a master manipulator when it came to pulling at your heartstrings whether or not he was aware of that. You let out a sigh of conceding, knowing you wouldn’t be able to argue your way out of this one.

“One condition, bud,” you hold up a single index finger, the black quill feather tattooed there standing erect, “find me some contractors to help rebuild all the buildings that were burned dow.”

“That’s gonna cost ya,” Dabi hums, as if contemplating. And he was, but rather in estimated cost as opposed to the proposal itself. Physical currency was a rarity in the Underground, as the city ran on a merit and bartering system. Real Surface money was only used for certain occupations. Realistically speaking, he knew money was no object to you considering the wealth, or rather hush money, you acquired from your parents’ death, so there had to be another reason. Knowing you as well as he did, it was probably the fact that the faster your homes were rebuilt, the less time you would have to spend sharing walls with Overhaul. Very smart, the leader mused. “You got a deal, doll.”

You lost count of the days that had gone by since you took over the project of rebuilding the structures that had gone down. While the orphanage project had already begun, you had hired two additional bodies to help the progress go faster so that Dabi could return to his duties without the addition of eleven more mouths to feed. Simultaneously, you had been at your own construction lot from metaphorical sunup to sundown, helping contribute and manage the two men that were hired for your location.

You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you told Dabi repeatedly when he asked where you’d been all day.

This project was an opportunity for you to set up shop in a reimagined way—to be able to design both your studio space and your living space exactly to your tastes. It had sort of become your baby and you wanted to be as hands on as possible.

You weren’t avoiding Overhaul, you kept telling yourself.

Tropium’s new store front was stunning, albeit a bit ill-fitting with its new modern style in contrast to the Underground’s more rustic, steampunk look. But the charcoal grey stone walls with chunky white trim filled your heart with a sense of pride that your business would hopefully rise from the ashes much like that of the Phoenix tattooed under your bosom.

Currently, you were upstairs with the tiny team of contractors while going over the floor plan of your currently bare apartment. Given the space of the empty building, you managed to enlarge your rooms at the cost of downsizing your entryway and living room. It still felt homey and, with the addition of a small office that served as a spare bedroom, you figured on nights that Dabi hung out and didn’t feel like going home, he had a space too. After laying out the floor plan and going over schematics with the team, you ventured back downstairs to continue sanding down the counters for your studio space.

“So, this is where you’ve been spending your time?” Oxygen freezes in your throat as you’re met with Overhaul’s golden eyes and black mask. Albeit he wasn’t in his normal dress shirt and tie for once, but rather sporting an oversized hoodie and tight denim jeans.

“W-what are you doing here?” Is all you can say back. You aren’t sure if you’re moving or even breathing at this point. The pressure you feel from a man whose face is half-covered is terrifying—liquid gold was dull in comparison to the intimidating eyes of Chisaki Kai.

“Dabi told me about your little deal,” his voice rolls like honey straight from the dripper as he makes small flits toward you that subconsciously leave you retreating back up the stairs one step at time. A deep groan rumbles in his chest when he sees your reaction—not that he blames you in the slightest. Overhaul is more than aware of his notorious reputation both in the real world and in the Underground and is accepting of strangers’ reluctance to be around him. He knows he’s partially to blame for not trying to quell the stigma around him by formally introducing himself prior. maybe not being such a condescending jackass when he first officially met you would have helped as well.

But he can’t squash the little bouts of jealousy that filled him seeing his children flock to you like dragonflies in search of water that almost make him bask in your trepidation.

“Take a walk with me,” Overhaul adds, torn between offering you a gloved hand as a metaphorical olive branch or simply turning around to see if you follow. He opts for the latter merely for the fact that you’re covered in dust and paint from your days’ work. Bounding after him, you stuff your hands into the pockets of your loose overalls as you try to catch up while bearing in mind to keep a short distance between the two of you. The two-block walk is brief and silent as you end up at the construction site of the clinic. Perhaps your memory of the building you never visited beforehand was skewed, but it you were certain it was much larger now. “Feel free to look around. After all, you’re paying for this.” There’s a twinge of malice that paints his invitation that isn’t lost on you, but you decide to forego the welcoming regardless.

Passing through the threshold cautiously, you’re greeted with what looks to be a regular, two story home. The skeletal structure foreshadowed a kitchen, dining room, living space, and a hallway leading to two rooms. One staircase that lead to a basement, one that lead upstairs—it was strange to see the clinic become more of a home than anything else. “Where are you putting the clinic?” You ask meekly, careful not to touch. Just because Overhaul invited you to check out the specs, doesn’t mean he wanted your lingering fingerprints ingrained in his space.

“Basement. I figured it would be better for the children to have majority of the space.” A pregnant pause takes over the conversation once again, leaving you to roam around the new space in appreciation. A part of you was pleased with the work the contractors did for this family, a large part even, but there was a small nagging voice in your head that was still telling you to retreat back to your own project. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” A brief chuckle that is muffled by his mask dances on his lips. He’s not sure which of his theories he wants to start unraveling first. So he starts with the one he believes to be most ludicrous—the conspiracy that you or somebody you worked for was trying to take this children away, or Eri at the very least. If people on the Surface knew about her and her quirk, Kai doesn’t doubt a bounty would be on her head. But truth be told, he knew this seemed unlikely. You had never bothered to even engage with him or anyone else in his family until recently, despite having come to the Underground shortly after its establishment.

“Rescue my daughter, for starters.” Of course he starts with the question you don’t have an answer for. To which you can only respond with the truth—your body moved on your own when you saw the panic in his eyes. Also knowing he had to watch his eight other children and ensure their safety prompted your body to act automatically. “You used your quirk to save Eri, but not yourself. Why?” Your eyes narrow slightly in both suspicion and out of confusion. It was strange that Overhaul kept demanding answers and logic and reason for things you did as a knee jerk reaction. Considering you’d only discovered your quirk just before going to the Underground, it wasn’t exactly what you would call a natural reaction. Plus, weaving through danger for someone else wasn’t as simple as just running in and out of the building as it was to jump out your bay window. Judging by his silence, it seemed he accepted that answer. “And the contractors?”

“I just want all of our lives to go back to normal, including Dabi.” It wasn’t exactly a lie—rather just a short omission of the truth—and it wasn’t like you could tell him that you couldn’t stand living in such close proximity with him due to fear. But Overhaul had a knack for pinpointing a fib like a honeybee in search of something sweet.

“You’re lying,” he bites. You shake your head almost violently, as if the movement will deter your mouth from telling him the truth in its entirety. There was no way you could admit the fear he instilled in your bones or the anxiety you felt standing close enough for him to touch you. Sure, you may have felt that your quirk was less than impressive but that didn’t mean you wanted him to take it away or worse, your life. Knowing that he knew about it too, while the public didn’t which was a requirement for living in the Underground, only reaffirmed your worries. “Do you fear me?” Overhaul asks, making note of the way your fingers were trembling and way your eyes constantly averted his.

“Yes,” your voice comes out as a mere whisper, barely rising above the hammering and drilling of the construction workers. A part of you wished that your admission made you feel better—like it felt like a weight lifting off of your shoulder rather than making it feel like you were denying some greater truth—a part of you just wanted to run and hide and pretend this interaction wasn’t happening.

It shouldn’t have hurt Kai as much as it did to hear you say it out loud, considering you were nothing but a stranger. But you were a stranger that his children were so utterly enamored with and all he wanted was to understand. Yet, the feeling of disappointment is a dull thrum in his chest, long forgotten with a wide array of other emotions and coming only second to his envy. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, though the monotone voice almost sounds insincere.

Perhaps, his jealousy is misplaced, he thinks. His children may be drawn to you, but at least they didn’t tremble or wrack their bones with trepidation the way you do when you see him. If anything, his jealousy is replaced with empathy. Despite your clear distaste for youth, you got along swimmingly with his kids and they clearly wanted to be present with you. It must have been difficult for you to be near them, even more so considering you trembled in their father’s presence. The two of you stand in silence with you looking away pretending to soak in your surroundings of the plastered walls. Overhaul is observing your nervous ticks—the way your twitching fingers are exaggerated by the ink in your skin or the way your knee bounces impatiently along the hardwood.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, come look at my roo—oh! [ name ] is here too!” Bounding down the unfinished staircase was one of the orphans in Overhaul’s care; Shura, if you remembered correctly.

“Just stopped by to see how the place was coming,” you offer in addition to a sheepish wave. Before you know it, Shura is grasping one of your hands with both of his while guiding you up the stairs.

“Come see our rooms, [ name ]!” Overhaul watches with curious eyes at the way one of his sons is so overzealous to include you in their little world. The appeal makes no sense to him—you were just a stranger with skin like a Monet painting that had made little to no effort for these children outside of rescuing Eri and allowing them to shower you in their affection.

Why did acknowledging that their enthusiasm to include you hurt Kai even more so, knowing you were afraid of him?

Trudging behind, Overhaul peers through the open doors upstairs to see each of his kids decorating their freshly painted walls. In Shura’s room, you were sitting on the floor with your arms wrapped around your knees while the little boy explained to you that he wanted his room to be decorated with narwhals. The excitement he had, and the knowledge of even knowing such a creature existed, was quite charming. “[ name ], are you gonna join us for dinner this time? Dabi says you’re always working, but daddy always makes you a plate just in case!” Your eyes glance over to Overhaul and his leisurely pose as he rests one arm on the door jamb. For a moment, your mouth open and closes repeatedly as you try to stutter out some semblance of an answer.

“Just in case,” the doctor adds, as if to add more pressure to his son’s convenient question. The golden orbs you normally deterred from swirled with an intensity that, much to your surprise, didn’t wrack your nerves like they normally did. It was as if they were filled with remorse rather their typical bitterness, maybe sympathy even, imploring you to consider Shura’s inquiry.

“I should go finish my work for today then so I can be home for dinner,” pushing yourself off of the freshly carpeted floor to stand. At some point while Shura was giving you the grand tour of his room, your legs had fallen asleep, causing your first step to hobble and throw you off balance and trip.

“Careful,” Overhaul chimes, bemused at the way you flail to recover from your stumble. To your surprise, he’s pushed himself off the door jamb, crossed through the threshold of Shura’s room, and has his arms locked underneath yours to keep you steady. “Drink some water before going back to work.”

“R-right,” you stutter out, hyper aware that his hands are touching you. He feels the way your tendons bunch together in your arms at the contact, even more so when your pupils lock into his. It untangles one more thread in his theories, one he figures he’ll push on later because it’s a theory just as farfetched as his last one. “I’ll, um, see you at dinner,” the last syllable rises in intonation as you squeak, flitting away and ignoring your numbed legs and blood burned cheeks. Meanwhile, Overhaul chuckles as he watches you scurry away, the blush painting your cheeks burning into his mind just as well. The way you moved was reminiscent of when he had reset your bones and the way you recoiled thereafter. But through thorough observation, he knew that reaction wasn’t fear this time around, no. Fear made you quiet, not nervous or jittery or force your pupils to dilate.

This was something else entirely.

Something else entirely to the point where Chisaki Kai is unsure if he even wants to entertain the possible theory that maybe, maybe, you’re the slightest bit infatuated with him.

“How nice of you to join us,” Dabi sneers teasingly when you set foot into the private entryway of town hall’s attached home. The makeshift family of ten is already seated at the extended dining table, an empty seat awaiting you on Dabi’s left with Overhaul on his right. Each of the children that you had come to be familiar with over the last few weeks had lit up like your presence was a treat—a strange feeling, considering you’d done the most to avoid being in the temporary residence.

“Go wash up, we’ll wait for you,” you had never seen Chisaki Kai without his mask, let alone heard his voice so clear. The angelic lilt rivaled expert fingers rimming crystal glasses, hypnotizing you to do as he said without so much as a fight. Entering your room, you immediately discard your dirty work clothes and shower hastily, scrubbing off flecks of dried paint and dust. In seven minutes and nineteen seconds, you’re out of your en suite bathroom and shucking on leggings and a long sleeve tee before joining everyone else at the dinner table.

To your surprise it felt quite...normal. Was this how families had dinner together? You were unsure, considering your parents had never been one to have the three of you gather together for a meal—they were always too busy working until the day they were killed nearly a decade ago.

It surprised you how natural the flow of conversation was, even with nine children ranging from ages four to seven. Even more to your shock, Dabi was more than willing to indulge the kids in their stories. But the creme de la creme was seeing maskless Overhaul smiling and laughing and attempting to get his kids to eat their vegetables. Was this the real Overhaul? Had his notoriety preceded him so greatly that you feared him for no reason at all? Your intuition tells you no and, perhaps, to some degree it’s right. There was still a dangerous air that encapsulated Chisaki Kai, but it wasn’t one that made you instantly retreat like touching a cake pan you’d recently pulled from the oven with a bare hand. If anything, it was alluring as opposed to intimidating.

The kids were so happy you finally joined them all at dinner. Rapid fire questions from any one or even two of them made you hesitate to answer but you did your best to keep your face even and amused. Children may not have been your favorite, but however the heck Overhaul was raising these ones, especially all nine of them, was truly wonderful. Throughout conversation, Shura and even shy little Eri had scrambled into your lap with each one of them taking a leg while the three of you ate. Initially, Kai had scolded them both, saying they were being rude to which you only shook your head and allowed them to stay, much to his surprise.

After dinner, the children cleared the table. Those that were able of the younger ones brought stacks of dishes to Eri and Shura whom were in the kitchen washing plates and silverware—their duties as the eldest of the nine. Dabi has pardoned himself after thanking the family for the meal to hole himself up in his office. According to the leader of the Underground, the investigative team was still working around the clock to unearth who was responsible for the fires. You had found yourself in the garden of Town Hall, tablet and digital pen in one hand with a cigarette in the other. Drawing was the only leisurely activity you indulged in when not working on rebuilding Tropium.

Typically, Dabi would join on you on these evenings with stacks of papers and a cigar between his lips as he bounced ideas off of you to figure out potential perpetrators. Needless to say, it surprised you when Overhaul enters the makeshift garden that was really just a manmade pond with lily pads and rose bushes aligning the sinkhole. “Hi,” you offer meekly, averting his gaze by keeping your own glued to your tablet screen.

“Hi,” he returns, twisting up a shapely brow at the cigarette between your index and middle finger. For a moment, he’s torn between asking what you’re working on or if you had any ideas to who burned down both of your homes or even how the rebuilding of Tropium was coming along. But he can tell by the way the filter of the cigarette squeezes between your fingers that you’re tense, that you can sense there’s a reason for his presence and decides to forego small talk. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” his voice is small and unsure and drastically different from the Overhaul you were used to. Nonetheless, his statement catches your attention and pulls it away from the screen of your tablet.

“I’m more afraid of what you can do,” you admit quietly, “I don’t want people knowing about my quirk. Dabi was the only one who knew and now your entire family knows and—“ you pause for second, hesitating on whether or not you should continue. But Overhaul was brave enough to tell you had what been bothering him, even if only a minuscule issue, you figure you owe him the same. “And I don’t want you to take it away.” The broken syllables leave your lips bare above a whisper, reaffirming at least one of the theories the doctor had about you. Of all the conspiracies, it made sense that this one was the most likely to explain your reactions to his presence, no matter how much he had hoped it to be some strange, magnetic attraction.

You had bought into the whispers of the Underground that said Chisaki Kai’s life mission was to overhaul the population and remove quirks.

Dejection fills his chest as he lets out a sigh. Maybe this was being too honest, his inner voice argues as it debates on his next words cautiously, but he feels the need to burn clean. “[ name ], what do you know about me?”

“That you were a Yakuza leader and you think quirks are a plague that need to be eradicated.” Overhaul closes his eyes languidly, peeling them back open at a snail’s pace while the warm, golden orbs stare off into the never-ending tunnels of the Underground.

“I became the leader of the Shie Hassaikai when I married my wife at twenty-three and took over for her ill father. It was a quirk marriage, but a happy one, nonetheless. At twenty five, my wife had Eri and while most children’s genetic code didn’t activate the gene for a quirk until a few years later, Eri was born with her quirk activated,” you listen deeply, soaking in every word leaving Overhaul’s maskless lips. His eyes drop down to stare at his gloved hands before burying his face in them for a moment to swallow his guilt quietly. “Eri can rewind time on living things and the first person she used it on—“

“—was her mother,” your voice barely vibrated past your lips as you made the connection. Bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill the contents of your gut not out of disgust, but rather an overwhelming surge of sorrow.

“I lost my wife when I was twenty-five. The rate that she was being rewound at was too much for her body to handle and I had to overhaul my own daughter at birth just to get her quirk to deactivate so she didn’t destroy everyone she touched,” had Chisaki Kai not come to terms with the truth a long time ago, he would have shed at least a single tear recounting these memories he had buried. Either that, or almost hurled recalling the way his wife’s body had imploded until chunks of skin and muscle tissue and blood ended up spewing all over his chest and face. There was a reason he constantly wore gloves and a mask—the smell of cooking carcass and burning meat never left him and the exaggerated mask stuffed with lavender was the only scent that eased him. “I was angry at the world for a long time.”

“I am so sorry, Over—“

“Kai,” he interrupts, “or Chisaki, at the very least. I don’t go by that name anymore.” After a bout of silence, Chisaki continues further. Eri never grew up with a mother or siblings and after things had gone south on the surface, he wanted to raise Eri in a place where people didn’t know the truth about her or the mother she never had the opportunity to meet. So he fled to the Underground with Dabi; he started helping tend to the ill and taking in quirkless children who had lost their parents on the Surface to Heroes.

In a moment of vulnerability, you felt the need to offer the olive branch and share your own story with this man after he bared his soul to you. And so, you tell him about the accident. How, while in pursuit of a villain, the small mom and pop diner that your parents frequented on Friday afternoons was accidentally set on fire by Endeavor and trapped and killed of the patrons inside. You were in your first year of high school at the time—fourteen and preparing for university until you realized you would need to work full time in order to continue paying the bills until the settlement from Endeavor came. University was down the drain. It took years for the dividends to be decided and the lawyer managed to get you a considerably high amount thanks to emotional damages, but riches and wealth would never quell the resentment you held towards the then number two pro Hero for being so reckless. That was nine years ago. Somewhere along the way, you’d met Dabi and he granted you a home and space to continue to hone the craft of tattoo artistry that you had picked up from working part time in a parlor, as recompense for his father killing yours. Though, you’d left that last little tidbit out, unsure if Kai knew of Dabi’s lineage. “I’ve been in the Underground for the last three years, give or take.”

You had always been rather indifferent to the concept of heroism until that day. Even more so when you had met Dabi—a man who was wanted and was supposed to be a villain. Yet he extended warmth and welcoming to you, offering you refuge in a new city he had created for the exiled and wandering.

The grey areas only widen with this conversation with Chisaki Kai. A notorious man, an infamous man, known for causing utter chaos on the Surface both as the leader of the Shie Hassaikai and as a super villain, was sitting across from you and sharing the most intimate moments of his life.

Maybe the concept of heroism was skewed to begin with, you think to yourself as you put out the cigarette in the ashtray in front of you. Maybe Dabi and Overhaul weren’t the real villains—only designed that way because of the way some omniscient creature in the stars that you couldn’t see.

“I remember when you first opened Tropium,” Chisaki hums bemusedly, “the children said you looked like a coloring book.” The only fitting response you have is laughter. Neither of you thought laughter would be something the two of you would indulge in together. But the way your cheeks cinch together at the corner of your eyes or the tufts of air leaving your nostrils in a short snort and the somehow smooth staccato of your chuckle sounds like holiday bells after the first snowfall. It was a peace that Chisaki Kai hadn’t known for some time now. It was a peace he didn’t know he needed, and it makes him wish that his magnetic attraction theory had some truth to it. “Your secret is safe with me,” he says finally after the laughter had died off.

“Thank you, Chisaki,”

You started coming home for dinner every night, figuring the two contractors didn’t need you there to micromanage them, until you stopped dropping into the worksite all together. With a full house, Dabi was out more frequently, preferring to be in the field to investigate the fires as much as he could. This left you with Chisaki and the kids more often than not. On occasion, you would run to the local market with Eri and Shura or had even done arts and crafts with some of the younger ones. As a sort of inside joke, you had bought each of the nine coloring books.

Currently, the kids were playing volleyball in the makeshift garden while you and Chisaki supervised. It was no longer tense between the two of you, a sort of bond forming since that one night. You should have seen the inevitable question coming. Though you more so imagined it would come from Dabi in the form of some snide comment with sexual implications regarding how close you and Overhaul had become. Never did you anticipate his oldest son asking, “[ name ], are you going to be adopting us? Are you going to be our new mom?”

“I-I—“ you were a deer in headlights and the question was a freight truck gunning in at ninety. Looking over at Chisaki for help, who seemed almost unwilling or at the very least unsure on how to, you shake your head before staring back at Shura’s big blue eyes. These children had begun carving a special place in your heart due to how they came to be in Chisaki’s care, sure, but you still had your reservations about kids in general. Not that the doctor blamed you—maternal instincts didn’t necessarily apply to every female. “I-I don’t wanna take you away from daddy, he works so hard to take care of you all and he does such a good job,” for a second, Shura’s expression becomes crestfallen.

“But we all like having you around, [ name ],”

“I’m not going anywhere, buddy, I promise,” the seven-year-old boy promptly wraps his arms around your neck, squeezing tightly as if you were going to dissipate into the air in front of his very eyes. Without hesitation, you hug back briefly before telling him his siblings were waiting for him to start the next set of volleyball. “Was that okay?” You ask quietly, looking over to the doctor. From underneath his mask, you can see the twists of pain coloring the dusty gold hues of his irises and the way his jaw tenses. When he remains quiet, you anxiously reach for an e-cigarette—a fruity one that wouldn’t alert the kids or burn Chisaki’s nostrils from the scent—and pull the tip to your lips. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that to Shura, you think as you exhale a large cloud of smoke.

But Overhaul’s stomach is twisting and churning, and he crosses his legs over the knee to squeeze his legs together tightly. He’s thankful for the black cloth mask that covers majority of his facial features as he bites his lip and his nostrils flair while he tries to control his breathing. Think of anything else, his mind snarls. Think of the days in the Shie Hassaikai, think of the children, think of literally anything but the way you called him “daddy” and how the blood rushed from his brain and straight to his dick at an alarming rate. It was so innocent—there was no reason Kai should even be thinking of it in any other way—but primal instincts were taking over, twisting into a delusion in his brain into hearing you repeatedly call him daddy while he fucked you from behind.

“Can you watch the kids?” Chisaki chokes out, standing up abruptly and fleeing inside the temporary home. He doesn’t even have the chance to hear you ask if he’s alright as he’s rushing upstairs to his en suite bathroom. Entering his room, he rips off every shred of fabric covering his body before turning on the shower to the coldest temperature he could tolerate. But there wasn’t enough cold water in the Underground or gruesome thoughts of his wife’s sudden death that could stave off the erection he was currently sporting. “Fuck!” He snarls out viciously, mind running rampant with salacious daydreams. Out of sheer need, Overhaul wraps one hand around his cock, the other bracing himself on the shower wall while the cold water runs down his spine.

Chisaki Kai is livid—raging over the fact that he is reduced to such actions over a simple word that he hears multiple times on a daily basis. It wasn’t that he was abhorrent at the thought of masturbation in the slightest—he was a human with natural human needs, after all—but this desperation that filled his gut and fueled his hard on was less than desirable. But he can’t stop the aching he feels to hold onto that blip of memory of you calling him daddy. He savors it like the first bite of a meal and indulges it in the same way he’s trying to coerce his own orgasm.

Throaty groans and grumbles wrack in Overhaul’s throat as he fists his angry, weeping cock, twisting and turning it as he prays for reprieve. It’s not enough; it’s not your mouth or any other oriface he would rather be shoving into, but the friction rubbing against his veins would have to be enough. He’s far from gracious at this point. Cupping and massaging his balls with one hand while thrusting into his enclosed other at ferocious speeds was all in the name of merely getting off. “Fuck,” he hisses out once again as he feels the very start of his orgasm. As much as his natural instinct is just telling him to sit back and enjoy the ride, his common sense tells him otherwise, tells him that he’s filthy for doing this and he doesn’t deserve to indulge in these thoughts.

But he needs that extra push to satiate his natural instinct.

Succumbing to his deeper, carnal desires, his imagination wanders back to you. With golden eyes screwed shut, he pretends it’s you he thrusting into, that it’s you stringing together languid profanities between your lips; that it’s you begging for daddy to fuck you harder.

That it’s you begging daddy to fill you up and make you into a mother.

“Oh, shit,” Chisaki is gasping for breath as he cums on the shower walls—the last thought to flood his mind serving to break the dam. He licks his lips and swallows hard, his skin becoming dry despite standing in the cold shower. After his ragged, uneven breathing returns to some semblance of normal, he peels his heavy lids open and stares at the fluid coating the shower wall. For a moment, shame washes over him because he feels pathetic and small. But the moment is brief before it was replaced with a dull burn of hunger that may never be quelled.

Pathetic, Kai thinks again as he scrubs his body clean, before exiting the arctic shower. Never before had he been in such a state, even at the ripe age of thirty-two, to masturbate to the mere thought of another person. Perhaps he was that touch-starved, all things considered.

He can’t bring himself to gaze at his reflection as he gets dressed. Adorning grey joggers and a red zip up hoodie, in addition to his usual mask and gloves, he maneuvers his way back to the makeshift garden where the children are still playing with together. But rather than you sitting alone at the patio table as you were, Dabi had joined you in the seat directly across from you.

Both of you were sporting matching cigarettes in your respective hands with matching distressed looks on your faces.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” you say in an almost indifferent tone, a departure from the way Kai had heard you in his mind seconds ago. It was a sentence typically accompanied with some sass, but your eyes were devoid of emotion at the moment. Cautiously, Chisaki took a seat beside you at the patio table, propping an elbow on the armrest closest to you before resting his temple on the same closed fist he had just used to beat himself off. You pay it no mind, how close he is to you, but rather put out your cigarette on the ashtray on the table as a courtesy to him. “Dabi,” your tone is thoughtful as you say your best friend’s name, making a hand gesture that signifies him to speak.

The leader of the Underground opens the manilla folder that was harboring the photos of both of your burnt down homes as well as the two other destroyed businesses. “It’s been a challenging investigation, but after eyewitness accounts and working with local law enforcement from the Surface, I’m pretty sure my bastard brother was behind this shit,” Dabi grits out.

“Brother?” Kai asks, confirming your suspicions of him being unaware of Dabi’s genealogy and family tree. To this, the leader pulls out a mug shot of Todoroki Shouto. The face wasn’t entirely familiar to Kai, save for the small resemblances to Dabi. Same jaw shape, same blue eye with the same dead look.

“Why us?” You ask, flipping the photo over. While it had been awhile since you had resided let alone visited the Surface, you knew that there was some rumors in the air about the start of a war, but what possible reason did Todoroki have for going after the Underground when everyone kept to themselves? For Chisaki, who ran a free clinic, and his children? What about you—why go after you?

Outside of Dabi, hadn’t the Todoroki family tortured you enough?

The city leader takes a deep breath, exhaling smoke as he extinguishes the dead cigarette on the ashtray. According to the patchwork man, Todoroki had confessed that he was selected for a covert mission from the Hero Association. The primary goal was to eradicate any and all quirk wielders within the Underground so they didn’t procreate further, so no overpowered quirks would mutate in the next generation of Underground born children. Overhaul lets out a scoff at the explanation—leave it to the Heroes to act so recklessly and selfishly.

If quirk mutation was the concern, only him and Eri would have been targeted, maybe Dabi as well. Probably Dabi as well. But they burned down Tropium Tattoos, the home of you whom had the legally registered quirk Life Canvas up on the Surface. They burned down a farm whose owner had a quirk that could manipulate light and sunshine—whose farm fed the patrons of the Underground. They burned down the house of the guy who had a weird magnet quirk. It sounds more useless than he actually is—Dabi ended up capitalizing on his manipulation of magnets to create magnetic elevators up to the surface for supply runs and other necessities.

This was about population control.

It was a form of genocide that Overhaul himself was all too familiar with.

“Well that’s fucked,” you sneer, reaching for one more cigarette, “the fuck is wrong with your family, dude, and why are they all trying to kill me and my family?” Chisaki turns his head in curiosity, no longer resting on his knuckles. The only time you had brought up your family, around him at least, was when Endeavor killed your parents—

Oh.

He pretends he doesn’t feel disappointment when he realizes you weren’t implying he and the children were your family.

“Why the hell do you think I left, [ name ]?” Chisaki almost feels as if he shouldn’t be present for this conversation; like it was meant to be private between the two of you. But he can’t bring himself to leave your side, not with the way anger is crinkling in the form of crow’s feet at the corner of your eyes. Dabi excuses himself after a long bout of silence, leaving you to stew in your bitterness while Overhaul directs the kids to wash up for dinner. You don’t realize all nine of them had left the garden until the doctor is standing over you, despite the small wisps of smoke billowing from your cigarette with a hand extended towards you to pull you from the patio chair. You’re sure to extinguish the stick, knowing how the smell often offended him before taking it.

“Why don’t you go rest inside for a minute and wash up while I make dinner?” He offers quietly as he pulls you to your feet. The entire time, Chisaki maintains eye contact, his golden orbs unwilling to break their trance with your form. But thanks to the distress and the rapid pace that your brain is moving, you aren’t even aware of your surroundings or the way Chisaki is just standing in front of you until you’re running into his broad chest. Instinctually, you recoil away from him. Not out of disgust or fear like before, but rather respect, knowing how he is about touch and physical contact.

“Sorry—“ his arms are nestling at your waist to keep you in close proximity and you’re suddenly reminded of the time your legs fell asleep at the orphanage and you had stumbled trying to walk. Chisaki had been there then too, holding you steady much like he was now. There was something drastically different to the scenario now compared to back then. The doctor didn’t shy away from the contact anymore, didn’t draw his hands back like he touched a freshly stoked lump of coal or break out into itchy hives. If anything, his gloved hands lingered just a little bit longer—too long even for Chisaki—before gingerly patting your head and retreating inside the home.

And maybe if you weren’t trying to process the fact that the Surface was attempting to start a war with the Underground, you would have dwelled more on the warmth and security coming from Kai. The poise he held coupled with the fire and desire in his eye would have been enough to reassure that everything was going to be alright.

Dabi never came back that night. Rather than leaving his head seat at the dining table empty, Chisaki sat to your left with his daughter filling his space temporarily. You sat directly across from Eri, the girl who was once too timid to thank you now smiled brightly every time you looked at her. Other than your best friend’s absence, dinner was relatively average. Conversation went on as normal, sharing laughter and smiles between all of you—it was a nice delusion that for a moment, you were all a complete family and you weren’t so enrapt with the heartbreak of knowing these ten humans were targets to the surface.

The children cleared the table as they always did, but rather than having the two oldest do the dishes, you offered to clean up instead. “Why don’t you kids gather up in the living room and have daddy put on a movie for you?” Clearly excited from the reprieve of duty, the orphans all head off, touting something along the lines of Frozen versus Tangled. But your back is already turned away from the family, getting started on putting away leftovers and scraping away scraps on plates and entirely missing the way Kai’s eyes drain from gold to a murky mustard. It misses the way his jaw clenches tightly as he settles the debate for his children, turning on Tangled—the clearly more superior film—before he returns to the kitchen.

The sleeves of your ragline tee are pushed above your elbows as you hum an unknown hymn, unaware of Kai stepping cautiously toward you. Despite having just eaten, the doctor is filled with a renewed hunger entirely as his grip finds limp purchase on your hips much like they had before dinner. “You know, I think we need to have a talk about you calling me ‘daddy’ in front of the children,” he murmurs hotly against the shell of your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. Your blood is torn between running cold from the predatory drawl in his words and boiling from the sudden close contact.

“I-I’m sorry, should I stop?” Kai licks his lips before running his teeth behind your ear and down your neck, suckling on the flesh as he mumbles a response.

“Do you want to?” You contemplate his question in full, though it proves to be a challenge with the way he’s pressing warm, open mouth kisses to your neck and shoulder and the way his hands are kneading at your hips. “Are you afraid of me, sweetheart?” He asks again, his voice a low grumble yet somehow is louder than thunder as it isn’t hidden behind a mask. Had this been months ago when he had asked you an identical question when you were perusing the reconstruction of the orphanage, you would have said yes again. But this wasn’t fear—fear wasn’t a word you associated with Chisaki Kai anymore.

Warmth. Strength. Dedication. Resolve.

Love.

Those were the words you associated with him now.

“No,” you finally respond, shutting off the water before turning to face him. It was a rare, momentous occasion when you got to gaze upon his bare face outside of having meals together. His golden eyes swirl with elation, even more so as your painted fingers brush stray locks that fallen just over his brows. Despite a rather simple appearance, especially in comparison to yours, there’s something elegantly charming about Chisaki Kai that had never gotten the full appreciation he deserved.

Tentatively, you nudge him closer to you from the back of his neck until your lips are pressed against his. For you, it’s an experiment just to feel him in such a manner. For Kai, it’s torture in every sense of the word because it’s a tease after all of the salacious thoughts that have marred his imagination. Taking a leap of faith, his arms tighten around your waist, pulling your body flush against his because right now there isn’t enough contact in the world that would satisfy him.

The once delicate, experimental kiss becomes hungrier at his hand as he’s exploring your mouth with tongue, groaning as he does so. The scent of smoke and fresh cotton wafts into his nostrils between his sharp intakes of breath as he refuses to break contact. It’s as if he’s trying to commit the moment to memory, to burn it into his brain.

As if this was never going to happen ever again.

“Kai,” you whimper out his name, his true name, between pants of breathlessness for the first time. Just as gingerly as before, your fingers are cradling the man before you by the temples. You’re gazing at him fully, unabashedly, as you run a thumb just below his distinct lower lashes. Chisaki’s head dips a bit further into your brief touch before you skip away from him.

“Wait, where do you think you’re going?”

“Come on, let’s go watch the movie with the kids,” you chime, holding a hand out to him as if he didn’t just have you all but pinned to the kitchen sink.

“I was serious when I said we needed to have a talk.” Despite his verbal protest, he takes your hand in his, trailing behind as you saunter off towards the living room where the children are fully invested in the film. Plopping down on an empty space on the couch, you bring Kai with you until he’s nearly resting on top of you. For a moment, he releases your hand, opting to wrap an arm around you to pull you closer. “Back to avoiding me, angel?” The doctor grumbles into your ear, low enough so as not to alert the little ones.

“Figured it would be better to not risk being interrupted,” you whisper back, smirk twisting your lips. Chisaki’s licks his own dry plains, tugging you even closer so that you’re sitting on one of his thighs instead. That predatory miasma that surrounds him on a day to day basis is seeping out of him tenfold, but intimidation when it came to Kai was now a foreign concept to you. It brought back that same seductively dangerous feeling you’d felt the first time you had dinner with the family or, thinking back further, to when you went to scope out the renovations. A part of you wonders if that fear you once had was displaced as soon as you knew he was going to keep your quirk a secret. Displaced with an attraction to him that was easily confused with fear.

A part of you wonders if you ever really did fear him at all.

Maybe you didn’t.

Your mindless thoughts wander to anything other than the screen, casually leaning back so that your head settled on Kai’s clavicle. The doctor looks down at you with a curiosity that is replaced with a warmth that temporarily quelled his lust. As much as he had been fighting his day dreams of fucking you, having you in his arms surrounded by his kids stoked a different fire inside him.

He didn’t want this domestic moment to end.

He hopes that desire translates into the simple gesture of his lips pressing into your hair.

Chisaki Kai was finally caving into his wants and being honest with himself. He doesn’t want this makeshift family to go back to normal when you finally returned to Tropium or when his family returns to the Underground clinic. There isn’t a single cell in his body that believes having you in his lap and curled into his chest feels anything other than right. He’s overwhelmed with the idea, the fantasy, of you moving in and being with the family. Your family—in the collective sense—with Kai by your side with your nine orphans.

During the lantern scene of the film, he presses another kiss where the roots of your hair meet your forehead, lips lingering a little longer than normal. In response, you look up at him curiously to find his muted golden eyes staring right at you. There was a plethora of different things that Chisaki wanted to say to you, especially with the way you look so heavenly in his arms. But he settles with the murmur of, “I don’t want things to go back to normal.”

“Neither do I,” you whisper, gracefully accepting the way Kai’s lips mould over yours almost lovingly. In a sense, it’s your way of finally admitting to yourself the feelings that worked and wriggled their way into your chest. The thought of returning to your lonely little two-bedroom apartment by yourself just seemed daunting now, despite the initial rush to get to work on the remodel. No more waking up to bright eyes at the table for breakfast or coloring with the kids; no more having Kai cook a delectable meal or having him accompany you in the garden for a smoke. It broke your heart just thinking about all you would be missing out on when life returned to somewhat normal, war aside.

The doctor sucks gingerly on your lower lip, nipping slightly with his canines as his tongue wholeheartedly dances with yours. The kiss is full of longing and desire and it made his brain go fuzzy with strange thoughts. A part of him can’t remember ever feeling this recurring surge of wanton lust and infatuation when Kai would kiss his wife and, in regular circumstances, he would have felt guilt over it. But this warm, wet entanglement of your tongues is more loving than he was accustomed to and it excited him. Than you were even accustomed to.

“So stay with me, sweetheart,” the nickname he’s given you sounds almost patronizing. But the admiration that seems to be laced in with it sends a shiver down your spine and leaves the hairs on your arms standing at full attention as the film comes to an end. “Time for bed, children. We’ll be by in a little bit to check on you,” Chisaki calls out to his protesting kids, though making no motion to move from his planted position on the sofa. When he’s certain that all nine of them are out of earshot, he adjusts you in his lap so that both of your legs are draped over his thighs. You call out his name, pulling him from his thoughts that take him far away from the present.

“You said you wanted to talk,” you remind him. A part of you is afraid to start conversation because you aren’t sure what direction he wants to take this. Chisaki could have an entirely different meaning of returning to normal than you, but for you...

You didn’t want to wake up every morning without him being nearby. In the rawest form, that was the only way you could piece it together into a coherent thought. But even more than that, you felt as if there was so much more you wanted to see from Chisaki Kai. He was becoming more open with touch, no longer breaking out into hives when he touched others and even going so far as to hold you, albeit very languidly as he was now. Another part of you wanted to know if he would be beside you when it came to the impending war with the Surface.

Mostly, you just wanted to know if he wanted to be by your side too, even if logic wanted to tell you this was a bad idea.

“Will you stay? With me?” Kai implores quietly. His eyes are locked with yours, the gold shining brighter than ever.

“You say this after I renovate our homes?” A short, lighthearted scoff leaves his lung in lieu of laughter at your attempt of a joke. Because, despite him echoing your own deeper, innermost thoughts, a part of you refused to believe this was reality. As if reality was actually playing a prank on you.

Of course he had thought of that little fact. It was the longing desire he felt in his bones to have your presence that he hadn’t taken into account, but that need burning at the pit of his stomach had outweighed any semblance of logic that urged him to keep his thoughts to himself.

“The kids will grow up eventually and need their own space away from the orphanage. We could always save it for them.”

Answers you were expecting from Chisaki Kai: not that.

Had he invested that much into the idea? To the point where he planned on you still being a part of the orphan’s lives until they were adults?

“‘We’?” You ask. “And what if “we” don’t work, have you considered that?”

“No,” Kai’s voice is clear and calm as ever, exuding the very confidence that once made you tremble, “I want you in every sense of the word. I’ve already said my vows and had my shot at forever. I want that sort of permanence with you and I know that some part of you wants me too.” At a loss for words, you opt to brush the backs of your nails along his cheeks endearingly, trailing them down until your hands find purchase around his neck to bring him close enough that you can feel his lashes tickle your cheekbones. The silence between the two of you was deafening and damning, yet welcoming as it’s broken with him pressing his lips fully against yours.

For a moment, it feels as if the hunger stirring within his gut is satiated—satisfied with the even the tender, loving gesture of pulling you closer still until you’re straddling his lap. As if you were trying to fuse your bodies together because there was no such thing as too much physical contact right now. Kai encircles your waist with his arms, hoisting you up as he motions to stand and causing you to wrap your legs around his midsection. You don’t ask where you’re going; partially because your tongue is too busy just indulging in a private dance with his, partially because it doesn’t matter where he takes you. You’d go with him anywhere, no questions asked.

It’s a challenge and a half maneuvering up the stairs with you anchored around him so tightly—even more so that with every step he took ended up grinding your pelvis along his ever-growing erection. Kai felt liberated this time around, shamelessly rubbing against you this time rather than scurrying off for a cold shower and a five-minute session with his hand. Your eyes open as he unceremoniously tosses you onto the plush blanket of your borrowed bed. Immediately, you’re greeted with the sight of Chisaki Kai hastily shredding off his tee shirt and lounge pants, leaving the doctor in strained boxer briefs.

Briefly, you’re blown away by the sheer beauty of him—like a statue of Adonis come to fruition before your eyes. Even with the uncomfortable twinge in his golden orbs from your unnerving gaze. It was different, to say the least, to have you gawking at him with such adoration when he felt he was the only one doing so. “C’mere,” your voice comes out as a near broken whimper, a call to which Kai heeds graciously. The bed dips as he kneels at the edge, crawling closer until he’s hovering above you. Gingerly, your fingers trace over the smooth skin of his cheeks, tracing down his lips and neck until they ghost over his collarbones.

“Sweetheart,” Kai groans out, snatching your hand in his as it continues to trail further down his bare skin. “As much as I want to bask in the romance of all of this, you called me ‘daddy’ earlier, and I think it’s time you suffer the consequences.”

“Yeah?” You sneer sardonically, pushing into your elbows until you’re both touching nose to nose. “Like it when I call you that?” His breath is hot as it fans over your features, the wanton lust tangled within the golden hues of his irises becoming overwhelmed with feral desire. Kai’s hand that isn’t supporting him over you grips tightly at your baggy tee, pulling harshly to tear at the fabric keeping your bare body from him. For a moment, his breath becomes caged in his chest upon seeing your semi-nude form for the first time. But the moment is flitting as he’s reminded of his aching, hard cock twitching underneath his undergarments.

“Hands and knees, baby,” the slow, torturous movement you give in reply grates at Kai’s nerves, prompting a resounding smack to the ass of your joggers the moment your bottom is visible to him. “Daddy’s already impatient, dear,”

“And what’s Daddy going to do about that?”

Similar to the treatment he gave your shirt earlier, Kai dug his fingers into the waistband of your joggers. Though he did not have nearly as much luck tearing off the thicker material, the gruff motion is enough to expose you, leaving your bare, pulsing core in plain sight while the cloth gathered at your knees. His chest presses against your back, his skin searing hotter than hellfire, as he places languid kisses along your shoulder. “I promise, I’ll spoil you with attention later. But right now, I need you,” his voice is something reminiscent of begging, only amplified by his suddenly bare cock dancing along your slit and smearing pre-cum along it before cautiously slipping the head in.

Throaty groans leave both of your lungs simultaneously. Kai swears up and down that this was heaven manifested into reality. Part of him thinks this is all a dream, the way your walls are squeezing him to tightly as he pushes in centimeter by centimeter. “K-Kai,” you whimper. The calling of his name awakens something gutturally primal within him.

“Uh uh,” the doctor tuts, ceasing his movements. “What’s my name, baby?” In lieu of a response, only pants of shortened breath escape your slackened jaw. There was no way Chisaki Kai was human, you decided. Not with the way his words sent every cell in your body into overdrive or the way his fat girth stretched you so deliciously without even entirely plunging his engorged cock. Not with how, despite his notoriety once proceeding him, he was often blatantly honest with you and certainly not with how utterly enamored he was with you and vice versa. “Say my name, baby, and I’ll give you a reward,”

“D-daddy, please,” you whisper in between breaths. Abiding by his word, Kai works his thick length into you, albeit still slowly, until your bones presses into his pubis and his whole cock carefully bottoms out inside you. His right hand trails up your tummy and dances along the skin of your sternum until his fingers encase your throat gingerly. Keeping still within you, the doctor tugs at your throat until you’re only resting on your spread knees as his lips ghost along the outer shell of your ear while he gives slow, deep, steady thrusts.

“You like having daddy’s fat fucking cock in you, angel? Feel so fucking good around me, yes you do,”

A real poet, Kai was.

Turning your head to face him, your fingers lace themselves in his messy locks and pull his lips to yours in a kiss that is entirely devoid of lust. He can bring the heat all he wants—it was your mission to make sure he understood that you wanted him in more than just sex. Even if the slow torturous withdrawing of his cock was absolutely divine.

And he felt it too. Even with his hand delicately cupping your throat or the way his pelvis greets your plump ass with every thrust or the way your wet walls clench on him as if trying to expel his cock from inside of you. Kai can feel it in the way your nails are digging into the flesh of his arms or in the tufts of breath that leaves your nostrils because he leaves you absolutely breathless. He feels the love, and he wants to bask in it.

Now that he’d quelled his hunger slightly, Chisaki pulls away from your endearing lip lock while simultaneously withdrawing his length from you. A small whimper leaves your lips at the loss before Kai turns you over, pressing your back against the mattress and sliding home once again. The passion and intimacy he feels is overwhelming, boiling his skin through every pore as he bears weight on one arm while the other caresses your cheek. “I meant it, you know,” the murmur dances like air along your own lips, warm breath inviting. “I want you in every possible way. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, experience every season that doesn’t pass for us in the Underground with you.”

“Kai...” in return, you seal you mouth along his, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer and coaxing him to move. Slow and steady, he withdraws himself from within you before snapping his hips once again until he’s fully sheathed. Each thrust feels like thunder. “M-more,” you choke out, breaking apart your kiss momentarily to beg. His focus shifts down to where you’re connected—where each vein of his throbbing erection greets and becomes acclimated for every crevice within your cavern. Angling his hips along with your own with the assistance of his hand, he manages to welcome that spongy weakness that makes your knees buckle and regurgitate a scream in response.

“Right there, princess?”

“P-please!” The hand under the small of your back moves to hook around your knee, it’s twin mimicking the gesture and leaving you entirely at the mercy of Overhaul whose mission at the moment is to rearrange your insides in an entirely different sense. Pinning your knees to the bed, Kai is at the perfect angle to ram into your g-spot over and over at a rapid, even pace until you’re clenching around him deliciously, silently coercing his orgasm. “Oh my fucking god,”

“Mm, you’re so tight, baby. Ya gonna cum? Gonna cum nice and hard for me? Cum for daddy,” his words are almost enough—almost. And it was as if he knew the filthy, slopping sound of his cock reaming you wasn’t enough. Though whether enough for you or him remained a mystery, his thrusts are becoming erratic as he’s panting and grunting an unabashedly as he chases his release and oxygen. “I love you,” Kai’s voice is broken, “love you so much, just wanna fill you up over and over until your body only knows the taste of me.” And you aren’t sure if it’s his nasty, vile words or the way he is utterly knocking away at your g-spot that is causing you to convulse around him—that brings you over the final hurdle and over the dam. Screams rip past your lungs as your back arches as much as it can from it’s confines while your fingers twitch out of necessity to grip something—anything.

You’re granted no reprieve in that regard, but it matters not with the way Kai is still smacking his hips into yours, dragging out your orgasm even longer while in pursuit for his own. There is no amount of physical contact in this moment that is enough for him, even as he slats his lips over yours and slides his tongue inside your mouth to greet yours. Hips beginning to stutter, Kai is fighting every fiber in his soul—torn between the dichotomy of wanting to cum and stave off his orgasm because he wants to feel the welcoming, convulsing walls of your pussy forever. And though you’d already came at least once, the pressure was building again rapidly from the stimulation of the uneven rhythm of Kai’s hips. Part of you is thankful his tongue is hungrily dancing with yours to keep your screams muted so as not to wake the children down the hall. But the rumbling in his chest from his own throaty groans become overwhelming, forcing him to break away to and let his grunts and slew of curses fly from his mouth freely.

“I love you, Kai,” the moans are just as bad coming from you, but those four words coming from your lips are what do the aforementioned man in. And he can tell there is no lie dripping from a silver tongue here—you mean every ounce of these four little words. For everything that is Chisaki Kai—the former Yakuza leader, the former villain, the doctor, the father—you loved the man before you.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he wails, the rhythm of his cock head tamping against your womb matching the pacing of his broken speech, “daddy’s gonna cum so fucking deep in you, gonna make you mine forever, angel.” Another hissed out string of profanities pass through as his dick twitches almost violently, shooting out ropes of seed and painting your walls white. You can tell he meant what he said, even in his lustful spew, by the way he leaves his softening erection inside of your spasming cunt and sealing his emission inside until he was almost certain his claim held permanence.

“I meant it too,” you mumble into Kai’s sweaty neck as he collapses on top of you. Though he’s boneless at the moment, having spent all of his energy, you feel the breath of his questioning grunt beside your ear before his face is attempting to look at you while half buried in your pillow. Gingerly, he removes his now flaccid member from you, adjusting himself so that his form molds around you and wraps his arm securely around your stomach.

“You know,” Kai starts off slowly. The rich timber of his voice is thick with exhaust but is warm and welcoming all the same. “I was jealous before.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

“My children love you—a woman who was nothing but a stranger who doesn’t even like kids. They warmed up to you so easily, much easier than they did with me,” there’s a brief pause between his statements, causing you to adjust under his grasp until you’re touching nose to nose with the doctor. His eyes are closed for a moment, his long and feathery lashes greeting the tops of his delicate cheekbones. “So I tried to understand. Tried to figure just why they gravitated towards you.”

“And what did you find?” Peeling back his eyelids, Kai’s rich amber eyes bore into your own. Irises swirling with admiration before the view is flooded with a sudden closeness and the press of his plush lips against yours in the most loving fashion.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how to answer.

He had found determination and independence, qualities of a strong woman that his daughters looked up to. Free and proud and brave, he thinks, are the reasons his sons admired you. But there’s something more. There’s a love and warmth that you bring to the family, yet a sternness that doesn’t allow them to run rampant (not that they would under Overhaul’s upbringings) that spoke so motherly to each of his nine children. And somewhere along the way for the last six months that the Clinic had been under remodel, Kai found himself gravitating to all of those exact qualities in you, the envy transforming into an admiration of his own. It was an error in his initial magnetic attraction conspiracy theory; he thought that your fear had changed to attraction when it was his all along.

But Kai’s not always the greatest with words, and the thought of spilling his deepest thoughts of you seems a daunting task that he’d rather replace with kissing you instead. Considering you asked a question, however, he did feel the need to respond with something—anything.

“I found you.”

“Honey, I can still help, you know,” you whine for the umpteenth time, folding your arms over your chest as you stand in the mayoral office of Dabi with your partner. It’s been a year since Todoroki Shouto had burned down Tropium Tattoos and the Underground Clinic and tonight was finally the night that the Underground had planned on mobilizing their forces. It had taken a full year of investigating, planning, building alliances with those on the Surface, and patience for the citizens to finally strike back.

Enough was enough.

All of you had been exiled at one point or another, but now the Surface was trying to exterminate all of you.

“Angel, no,” Kai chides sternly, igniting the twitch on the leader’s face. Granted it had been six months since you and Kai had first declared this little relationship of yours and, as your best friend, Dabi was still slightly hesitant on the idea. Not that his opinion had much weight considering—

“Kai, I am only three months along. I can still fight!”

“Hell no,”

“Absolutely not,” both men snark simultaneously. Best friend or not, personal opinion aside, there was no way in the ninth circle of hell that Dabi was going to let you go to war while you were pregnant. And with Kai being the father, the chances of you getting your way in this moment with him were even slimmer. The doctor pinches the bridge of his nose underneath his black cloth mask with his thumb and middle finger before letting out an annoyed rift of air. “Dabi, I’m gonna take [ name ] home before we go over invasion plans. Do you mind?”

“Nah,” the leader waves his purple and nude hands in dismissal, “besides, we should wait for Hawks to get here before we start all that.” With that, Kai grabs your wrist with his gloved hand and drags you away from the office. He knows you want to fight, and he knows you want to protect your family—all eleven with himself and the embryo included. But as a father with another—biological—one on the way, Chisaki Kai just can’t bring himself to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.

“Sweetheart,” he calls out, stopping just outside of the currently closed Tropium. The grey and white building looked crisp and clean and everything you wanted it to be but you often found yourself closing up shop early and coming in late to spend more time with your nine children at home. At the very least, you were grateful that your parlor was only a block or two away from the clinic. “I need you here where you can keep our children safe in case anyone slips through the cracks.” Even with his mask on, you can tell that Kai is trembling ever so slightly. The thought of someone making their way into his home and hurting his kids, hurting you, was enough to unleash the beast within.

“I know,” you respond quietly. Using his grip on you to your advantage, you pull the doctor towards you until he’s towering over you and looking down directly into your eyes. “But you know me, always ready to jump headfirst into the fire,” his amber eyes soften, thinking back to a year ago when you had saved Eri from the burning clinic. To think that a year later, you would be living with him and carrying his child and occupying nearly every cell in his brain.

“It’s your turn to watch the kids,” he jokes pulling down his mask below his chin to slat his lips over yours lovingly. It’s only half a joke—he knows better than anyone you would do anything to protect them. He’s known that since day one.

“You better come back to us,” your demand is quiet and breathless and laced more with concern than it is with threat. The thought of Kai dying while on the Surface has plagued you for the last six months, even more so when you found out you were pregnant. He knew it too, knew how much worry and panic had disturbed your sleep when the realization that war was an option had settled in. Despite the knowledge that he carried about different afflictions and ailments; Kai had been at a loss for how to quell your anxiety. He hopes that circumstances aside, him reaching into the right-side pocket of his heavy, army green coat and pulling out the small black velvet box is the correct move. Gingerly holding up said box until it’s in your line of sight, he takes a step back before peeling back the lid to showcase a single, solitaire diamond set in a simple gold band.

“I promise you I will come back. And when this is all over, we can finally enjoy our life in peace, so long as you’ll have me.”

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neptunetheplanet7 · 3 years ago

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 2.0k

warnings: swearing, zeke

listen to the music masterlist

prev | next

Just as you were about to say something else to Mikasa, the doorbell rang, interrupting the moment. She let go of your hair and stood at her full height.

"Are you expecting anyone?" She asked.

"No, we're not." With confusion evident on your face, you got off the stool and lightly kicked it under the counter.

Your eyebrows knitted together as you made your way to the front door.

On the other side of the glass, you saw a blond bearded man struggling to hold around five suitcases. He noticed you reaching for the door handle and grinned widely.

"Surprise!" He shouted and dropped his luggage on the marble floor when the door was fully opened. He raised his arms and tried to hug you. Scowling, you evaded his embrace.

"Zeke, what the hell are you doing here?" Your grip on the door tightened with every word.

Zeke frowned. "Do I need a reason to visit my sister?"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not your sister. And typically, yes, you would."

"Okay, well, you're like my sister." He paused to adjust his glasses. "Have you forgotten? Eren's twenty-second is coming up. There's so much to do!" His excited facade was transparent to you.

"You didn't care about his twenty-first. Or his twentieth, for that matter. What's the sudden interest in your brother's life?" You raised an eyebrow as he visibly grew nervous.

"Well, you see, uh-" He twiddled his thumbs and your eyes narrowed. "Here's the thing-"

"Spit it out, Zeke." Mikasa cut him off when she rounded the corner. She crossed her arms as she leaned against the staircase railing.

"Mikasa! I didn't know you were back!" Zeke made rapid hand gestures toward her, eager to change the subject.

"I didn't know you were back, either. At least I gave a warning," she uttered, earning an incredulous look from the blond.

"Zeke, why are you here?" you continued.

His eyes briefly shifted to a houseplant before training back on you. "What if I told you I'm not allowed in the state of Nebraska?" He gave you a meek smile and your jaw dropped.

Mikasa snorted. "What the hell did you do in Nebraska?"

"Nothing!" he assured. "It's just that I may or may not be several million dollars in debt and on the run from the police." He looked down at his muddy boots in shame.

"You're WHAT?" You gaped at him. You'd known Zeke long enough to have it figured out that he brought trouble wherever he went but he was usually careful enough not to get banned from a state.

"It's not as bad as you think! I just got into a little quarrel with some guys. Everything is fine. Just let me stay here for a while," he said sheepishly.

"I am not letting a fugitive stay in my home!" you exclaimed.

"I'm not a fugitive! There's no need to use terms like that!"

"You're banned from Nebraska! I'll call you whatever I want!"

"What's all the commotion about?" Eren was walking down the stairs when he saw his older brother at the door. His mouth dropped open and he gripped the railing beside him. "Zeke?!"

"Why didn't you tell me your brother was in town?" You glared up at him.

"Because I didn't know!" He started to flail his arms around while simultaneously trying to make sense of the situation.

"Hey, little brother. Can I sleep in your room?"

"No!"

"Zeke's not allowed in Nebraska," Mikasa informed.

"What?!" Eren clutched the railing with one hand and his head with the other whilst continuing his descent down the stairs. "What even is Nebraska?" he mumbled with wide eyes.

"Doesn't matter. I wanna know how he managed to be banned from it." You glowered at the man in front of you.

"Y/n, will you please let me inside? It's cold even in March, you know." Zeke pleaded and pretended to shiver.

You glanced back at Eren for a sign of his approval. The house was yours, but Zeke was his brother. It wasn't like this was the first time he needed to stay over, anyway. Unlike mere seconds before, he now held a serious expression. He nodded at you and beckoned for Zeke to follow him.

He heaved a relieved sigh and nearly tackled you with a hug. "Thank you so much, Y/n! You won't regret this, I promise."

It felt like your bones were being crushed by his weight as your face was pushed up against his jacket. He reeked of an old car. "Okay, get off me, old man!" Your voice was muffled as you tried to push him away. He backed up and brushed your shoulders off before grabbing his luggage and disappeared into the basement with his younger brother.

You sighed heavily and plopped down on the stairs. "He got mud all over my floors. I just cleaned them too." Your head fell into your hands as you stressed over Zeke's sudden arrival. As if there wasn't enough on your plate already.

Mikasa laughed quietly as she draped an arm around your shoulders and sat down beside you. The sudden contact made your ears burn red. "Any particular reason for cleaning?" she hinted teasingly.

You lifted your head as you apprehensively stammered out a poor explanation.

She laughed at you again and you couldn't help but wonder if it's always been that easy to make her laugh. You thought about it for a moment and concluded to yourself that it didn't matter what made her laugh, as long as you got to hear it.

A dreamy smile spread across your face as you watched how her newly short hair fell in front of her eyes when she laughed like that.

It seemed she noticed your thoughtful gaze because she tucked the hair behind her ear and peered down at you. "What are you looking at?" she whispered.

"You."

The sound of footsteps resounded from the stairs behind you. "Woah, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Jean smirked when he saw how close you and Mikasa were. He parted the two of you by removing Mikasa's arm so he could walk in between.

Your face grew red when you realized what you had said to her and it grew even redder when you noticed Mikasa had a similar amount of color dusting her cheeks.

"Heads up, I'm going to Marco's right now so if anyone asks that's where I'll be." He corrected the slight wrinkles in his new shirt and grabbed his keys from the key-hook.

Mikasa was quick to add to his words. "It's nice to see you and Marco are still going strong. I'm happy for you, Jean, really." She smiled up at him honestly.

Jean's tinted cheeks gave away his embarrassment. "Oh, thanks. Uh, I'm also really happy for, um, whatever you guys have going on." He grinned but quickly covered his mouth when he saw a look of distress flash across your face. "Uh, sorry, I have to go now. See you guys later." He mumbled another apology and turned sharply on his heel to make a mad dash at the front door.

Mikasa chuckled and shook her head. "He can be such a dork sometimes," she said when the door closed behind him.

"That's true," you admitted softly. You were a little displeased that she kept her arm in her lap instead of wrapping it around you again now that Jean had vanished.

"I take it Zeke's kept up with his habits since I've been gone?" she assumed.

An exasperated sigh left your lips. "He shows up at least once or twice a year wanting to stay. He always owes somebody money but, as far as I know, this is the first time he's been permanently banned from a state. I don't love letting criminals in my household but you know how Eren gets."

"I see. I do remember how angry he'd get with us when we wanted Zeke to leave," she recalled dejectedly.

"I just wish he wouldn't get his hopes up every time he asks to stay." You frowned and tapped your fingers against the wooden stair you sat on.

"I hope he can stay long enough for Eren's twenty-second. It'd be nice if he could spend his birthday with him."

"That can be arranged." You ran a shaky hand through your hair. "Will you be okay at a party for him?" you inquired timidly. Considering what happened the last time she was at a party, you felt the need to know if she'd be alright with going since Eren's birthday was rapidly approaching.

Mikasa was surprised by the question. "Of course I will be. Y/n, you know I'm over what happened. You don't have to worry about what I think. It's cute you care, though." She squeezed your shoulder gently and gave you a reassuring smile.

Before you could respond, she stood from her position next to you and started up the stairs. "I'm gonna get changed. I'll see you later."

When she was out of your sight, you gave a final weighted sigh. You had to figure out what you were going to do with Zeke. The feelings that came with Mikasa being home already clouded your mind, not to mention the stress of Hitch on your ass as well.

For Eren's sake, Zeke should stay for a little bit. Mikasa suggested he should leave once Eren's birthday passes and that made sense. However, that would mean he'd be living in your house for two weeks.

You groaned and leaned back. There was only one person who would know how to help. You spun around and scrambled up the creaky stairs.

Facing the office door, you opened it and watched Armin move hastily to turn off their monitor.

"What are you doing?" You raised an eyebrow and leaned on the doorframe.

"Important research." He swiveled the chair to face you and rested his arms in his lap.

"Yeah, right," you snickered. "Did you know Zeke is here?"

Armin nodded. "I overheard everything. It's not like you people are quiet."

"Okay, so what should I do about it?" Moving to sit on the couch, you placed your hands on the cushions under you.

They shrugged. "I don't know. What should you do about it?"

"Come on, Armin. I came in here because I need your help with this." You sent him a worried glance.

"Y/n, at the end of the day, this is your house. You decide who stays and who doesn't. If you want him here, let him stay. If you don't, kick him out."

He couldn't just ignore the obvious issue present. "But what about Eren?"

"What about him? Eren respects you more than he respects anyone else. He wouldn't want to do something if you weren't comfortable with it. The guy trusts you with his life." He spoke like the answer was so clear.

You pursed your lips and thought over what they said. "I don't want to hurt him, though."

He wore a compassionate smile. "None of us do, but the difference between us is that he would listen to you. So, with that said, how long will you let Zeke stay?"

You looked down at your hands and thought back to your conversation with Mikasa and about the conversation you just had with the man across from you. "He can stay until Eren's birthday party. When that's passed, he'll have to leave."

When you looked up, you noticed Armin was still smiling at you. "I knew you'd make a good decision."

"I always do, don't I?" You joked.

He snorted and adjusted his chair to face his computer again. "You wouldn't be able to without me."

You feigned offense and stood up. "You're too cruel."

"Sure I am. Now leave my office, peasant. I'm busy." He waved you away with a dramatic flair of his hand.

You scoffed. "I bet you don't have actual work to do and you're just being a freak on the internet, like usual."

He flipped you off. "If you don't leave I'll have to use brute force."

"Whatever, whatever, Armeen, don't be harsh." You sauntered out of the office before he could scold you about the nickname.

posted: 8/31/21

no edits, reposts, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.

#aot fanfiction #band au #mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa x you #modern au #snk fanfiction #attack on titan

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years ago

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Sub Rosa [65]

vii. acceptable losses

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, nausea, creepy parasitic worms, death.

Summary: Preparations for the war against the Eligius prisoners continues, and you and Monty make a horrifying discovery in the process.

a/n: i’ve been enjoying reading everyone’s reactions for s5! there’s a little less drama in this update, but things start to pick up again on friday! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You sit behind Madi, braiding her hair for the day, while Clarke fills up a canteen from the nearest water source. She returns just as you finish up the last braid, and you pat Madi on the shoulder, letting her know you’re finished. She shoots to her feet, beyond excited for a day of training, but Clarke stops her as she tries to make a dash out the door. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey. Canteen.”

Madi gives her an annoyed look, and you hold back a bite of laughter when you recognize it as the same annoyed look that Clarke gives others. Like mother, like daughter. “I'm pretty sure they're gonna have water there.”

“Take it anyway.”

“Clarke, I'm not a baby anymore.”

Clarke puts her hands on Madi’s shoulders, holding her in place, giving her a serious look. “I know, which is why people are more likely to notice how special you are. That's why you're gonna suck today. You're not gonna stand out in any way. No one can think that you'd make a good Commander, not Gaia and especially not Octavia.”

“Clarke, I understand.”

“Once Echo gets that camera in the sky down, we all get to go home to Shallow Valley.”

“Great. Maybe when we fight the war there, I won't have to suck.'' Clarke gives her a scolding look, but Madi ignores it and presses a kiss to her cheek before pressing one to yours and slipping out of the tent. You look at your twin, who lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh, and you burst into laughter at the interaction. “She’s so much like you.”

Clarke glares at you, “She gets the sass from you though.”

“Me?” You throw the blanket beside you at her, laughing in indignation. “I’ve never been sassy a day in my life.”

“Yeah, right.” Clarke laughs along with you, but you can still see the worry on her face. You reach out for her and squeeze her shoulder in reassurance. “She’s gonna be okay.”

“And what about you? Now that Echo and Bellamy are broken up, are you going to tell him you still love him?”

You think back to the long conversation you had with Clarke last night, after the drama died down and Madi went to sleep, and how good it felt to talk about everything you’re feeling with your other half. She understood all of your conflicting feelings, and reassured you that it was normal to be unsure of how you feel. The whole time she talked with you, her fingers played with the cluster of stars that hang around her wrist, and you’re positive that she was speaking to you from her experience with Finn. Still, the last thing you decided before going to sleep, is that you’d let Bellamy come to you. “No. If what Echo said is true, Bellamy seems to be pretty confused about how he’s feeling. I don't want to show up and confess my love, just to confuse him further. I’ll wait for him to come to me when he’s ready.”

“You might be waiting a long time.”

“Maybe. But Bellamy is worth the wait.”

Clarke smiles at you, and you can tell that she’s relieved you’re no longer completely heartbroken. Being a twin means sharing the pain whether you mean to or not, and you know it hurt her to see you upset. But now things are seeming better because you have hope. If what Echo said was true, Bellamy still loves you. And it might take him a while to remember, to get over his feelings for Echo, but you have hope that he will, and that he’ll come back to you. Because you and Bellamy belong together, that much you’re sure of. One day he’ll remember that you’re his love, his radiant moon, and the two of you will fall back together, the way you used to be. So even though you’re still broken up, you’re starting to feel less broken.

Clarke changes the subject by reaching into her pack and pulling out two items, handing them to you. You take them, looking down at Jasper’s goggles and his note to Monty, and she whispers, “I thought you might want to give it to him.”

“Yeah, I would. Thank you.”

You stand and she stands with you, “I’m gonna keep an eye on Madi, and I’ll swing by to ask Bellamy about the eye so you don't have to.”

“Thanks.”

You two leave the tent together and head towards the bunker, splitting off as she heads towards the tech room and you walk towards the sleeping quarters. On your way there, you see Harper walking towards you, and you call out to her. “Harper, hey!”

You both hug in greeting, the first time you’ve really had the chance to since reuniting a few days ago. Everything has happened so fast since then, and it’s hard to believe it hasn’t been that long since their descent from space. “I was just looking for Monty, do you know where he is?”

You hold up the goggles and the note, and you see the flash of sadness in her eyes before she points you down a separate hallway. “Knowing Monty, I'm sure he’s with the plants in the hydroponic farm.”

“Thanks.”

You both exchange goodbyes before you follow the halls to the farm, and you push the doors open to see Monty standing amongst the dying plants. He glances your way as you get closer, and you smile at him. “Harper told me I might find you down here.”

“I miss my algae farm. I thought being around all this might help.”

“Does it?”

“Most of the crops are neglected, and the equipment needs repair. I give it 3 weeks until this place is as dead as the wasteland.”

He walks closer to you, and you let his words wash over you, your anxiety instantly rising. You hope that Echo can get the eye down and the rest of you can get into Shallow Valley soon, otherwise, you’re all in danger. Monty glances down at the belongings in your hands, and you follow his gaze before looking up and locking eyes with him. “We've been meaning to give this to you.”

He takes the note and peers down at it, his voice soft. “Jasper's handwriting.”

“We found it at Arkadia, not long after Praimfaya. Clarke nearly read it a couple of times, but I made sure she didn't.”

He nods, and you can tell he’s about to say something to you, but the doors at the end of the hall open and the lights flick on. You turn and peer through the dying crops towards the intruder, seeing Cooper wheel in a body just as you hear her say, “Guard the door. I'll just be a minute.”

Something about the interaction makes the hairs on the back of your neck lift, and you decide to trust your gut instinct, turning to face Monty in alarm. You push him backwards lightly, urging him to duck between the maze of crops, and he does so without question. Cooper pushes the gurney past the two of you, and you tense up, worried she’ll see you, but she walks right up to a door on the other side of the room. She types in a code, pushes the door open, and nudges the body inside before turning and walking out. You and Monty melt into the shadows as she walks on by, oblivious to your presence, turning the lights off on the way out and closing the doors to the farm behind her.

As soon as you and Monty are the only two people left in the room, you both head over to the door to check it out. Monty tugs on the handle but the door doesn't budge, clearly locked, and Monty looks around for tools before his eyes settle on some pruning shears nearby. You watch in confusion as he grabs them, and you mutter, “Monty, you can't pick a lock with pruning shears.”

“Ye of little faith.” He uses the shear to pry off a magnet that holds the tools in place, and then he sets the shears down and heads back to the door, moving the magnet over the door handle. “The keypad energizes the solenoid, pulls the coil and pin back. A magnet can do the same thing.”

A second later the lock clicks and he pushes the door open as you smile at him. “Monty, I love your genius brain.”

But your excitement dies out quickly as you step into the lab, Monty right behind you. You see the body that Cooper just brought in, along with test tubes and other lab related items. None of that concerns you though. What concerns you is the large tent in the back of the room, white and zipped up, secured from the outside world. Monty whispers, “Biocontainment lab? What the hell is that for?”

“Let's find out.” You walk forward and unzip the tent to the lab, stepping inside as Monty protests, “I don't like this.”

You ignore him and walk up to the large glass container a few feet from you, the contents inside hidden behind a large sheet. You pull the sheet back slightly and reveal a young woman, dead, and you feel the hairs on your arm lift, your subconscious already aware that you’re not gonna like whatever is going on here. You take a deep breath and pull the sheet the rest of the way off, the woman’s stomach now in view. You feel a wave of nausea roll through you and your skin crawls as you peer down at it, crawling with the sandworms from the desert. You gasp out, “Oh, my God!”

“I thought you all said no one else was bitten.”

“They weren't. I don't-'' You look at the worms in confusion, not understanding, until the pieces slowly slide into place. Octavia has already proven she’ll stop at nothing to win Shallow Valley. “They're breeding them.”

You and Monty exchange a worried look and you step over to the second glass container, pulling the sheet back to reveal a young man, still and unmoving. There are no worms bursting from his stomach, but it only takes a second for you to see one slither beneath his skin, making you shiver. Monty looks at the controls of the glass tank and mutters, “The cold must slow them down. If Octavia can deliver these worms in a defector-”

He cuts himself off when the man inside takes in a deep breath and his eyes fly open in alarm. “He's alive.”

The man opens his mouth again, and you think he’s about to gulp more air when he suddenly starts to cough, worms spilling from his mouth. You and Monty exchange another look and you mutter, “We have to tell Bellamy and Clarke.”

He nods in agreement and the two of you toss the sheets back over the tanks, step out of the tent, and zip it closed behind you. You sneak out the door, making sure it locks behind you, before the two of you head towards the tech room, knowing that’s the last place they were both in. However, when you arrive, Harper lets you both know that they went to the mess hall to sneak a few extra rations out for her and Madi. You and Monty turn and leave Harper without another word, and Monty guides you through the bunker to the mess hall, your eyes searching the room for your twin and your former lover. You find them both sitting a table across from each other, talking quietly, and you rush over to them, feeling panicked from seeing the worms.

Following your instincts, you sit down beside Bellamy, your brain forgetting that you’re no longer together, but by the time you realize, it’s too late. Monty takes the one next to Clarke, and they both look up at the two of you in surprise, sensing the anxious energy around you. “What is it?”

You and Monty explain everything that you saw, including the worms and the live test subject, and as soon as you finish, Bellamy shakes his head. “My sister would never approve of human testing. I don't care how crazy it's become down here.”

Clarke muses, “Desperation has a way of making the unimaginable a necessity.”

“Still, if she weaponizes those things and sends them into the valley, then Echo, Raven, Murphy, Kane, your mom-”

Monty cuts him off, “Not just them, all of us. Unleashing an invasive species on the last arable land on Earth is a monumentally bad idea.”

Bellamy sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration before whispering, “Even if Octavia does know, she won't listen to me. We need help.”

You all follow his gaze to the other side of the room, where Indra sits at a table eating with a few others. You all nod, agreeing with him, and Bellamy stands as Clarke urges, “Be diplomatic.”

“Yeah.” He immediately heads over to Indra, and the three of you watch him until Monty mutters, “He was there when Pike shot her and killed 300 of her people.”

Clarke and Monty both turn their gazes towards you, knowing you’re the best equipped at keeping the conversation calm, and you reluctantly nod, already accepting the role of peacekeeper. “I'll go with him.”

You come up behind Bellamy as he reaches Indra’s side, hands tucked into his pocket, looking nervous. His voice is low as he asks, “Can I talk to you? Privately?”

Indra doesn't address him, and nobody at the table moves, so you cut your eyes to them. “Hey, we need to talk to Indra. Ban au.”

Get out. You say the last part in Trigedasleng, hoping it will get them moving, but instead they look up at you in shock and get more comfortable in their seats. You glare, but no one moves until Indra nods her head, sending them away. As you move past Bellamy to take the seat across from Indra, he whispers, “Real diplomatic.”

You roll your eyes at him but say nothing as you settle into your seat, Bellamy at your side. He leans close, voice low and quiet as he asks, “Indra, would Cooper do something without my sister's approval?

“Only if she got mine first, but since I don't know what the hell you're talking about, it's hard to say.”

You look around you, making sure no one’s listening before you inform her, “She brought back the worms.”

Bellamy adds, “She's breeding them, experimenting on defectors. One of them is still alive.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Our guess is, she’s trying to find a way to keep them dormant long enough to deliver them in the next defection.”

“Good plan.” She pushes her tray away, and starts to stand. “Show me.”

You follow her from the room, motioning for Clarke to follow. She catches up as you get down the hall, and Indra types in the code for the room, holding the door open for the rest of you. You walk past her and unzip the biocontainment lab, pulling back the sheets from both glass tanks, showing Bellamy, Clarke, and Indra what you and Monty discovered. Matching looks of horror pass over each of their faces, and you see Indra recover first, setting her jaw. She walks over to the still living man, puts her arms into the gloves attached to the tank, and clamps her hand over his mouth and nose, smothering him. He only fights for a minute before dying, and Indra whispers, “Yu gonplei ste odon, Tarik kom Louwoda Kliron Kru.”

Your fight is over, Tarik from Shallow Valley Clan. As soon as the words leave her mouth, the keypad on the door starts to beep and Indra turns to face the approaching party, muttering, “Let's get this over with.”

The door swings open and Cooper and Octavia step inside, looking towards your group in surprise. You, Bellamy, and Clarke stand slightly behind Indra, watching the approaching pair as Octavia seems unsurprised by the contents inside the room. This seems to shock Indra because she states, “You knew about this.”

“Of course I knew about this, it was my idea. We're up against an army with superior firepower and every geographic advantage. This is how we overcome that.”

Clarke snaps, “What happens when your secret weapon destroys the valley you're fighting for?”

“I ran some tests.” You all look towards Cooper, waiting for her counterargument. “The worms can't survive in a green environment for more than a few days, long enough to kill everyone they come in contact with before we get there.”

You shake your head in disbelief, and find that Bellamy feels the same, because he questions, “Are we really having this conversation? Our friends are there, people we love.”

“Acceptable losses.” Your brows shoot up, surprised to hear the words come out of Octavia’s mouth. “Cooper, check on the worms.”

Cooper brushes past all of you to step inside the lab as Octavia turns her anger on the three of you. “Come on, big brother. How many innocent lives have you sacrificed? What about you, Wanheda, Wanlida? This is no different. You were just trying to save your people, so am I.”

You hear Cooper exclaim, “You killed him.”

Indra deadpans, “No, you did.”

Octavia looks towards the two women in confusion, not understanding the argument. “Cooper?”

“One of the defectors survived.”

You see an uneasy look pass over Octavia’s face, and Bellamy comments, “Looks like we found something that's not acceptable.”

“Blodreina, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but the results were remarkable. The worms reproduced 3 times faster in a live body, and we need quantity as well as control. I found that-”

You can see that Cooper’s words are swaying the queen, and you cut Cooper off, trying to stop this in its tracks. “Octavia, you don't want to do this.”

“Spare me the hypocrisy. Miller told me about the man that you irradiated in Becca's lab.” She turns back to Cooper, interested. “And just how long did your test subject survive?”

“Long enough for a defector to board their ship and fly to the valley.”

You glance at Bellamy and Clarke, both of them looking equally as distressed at this news, and Bellamy starts to beg his sister to end this. “Octavia, please, don't do this.”

“I don't want anything to happen to your friends, Bellamy, not even Echo.” He freezes at the name, and judging by Octavia’s obliviousness, you realize she must not know that they broke up the night before. “But this is war. Once we control the eye in the sky, we send the worms. Cooper, choose one of the elite guards to deliver it. It's time for Wonkru to go home.”

She turns and walks out of the room, ending the conversation in the way she’s grown accustomed to, leaving the rest of you standing around, looking at each other in shock. Cooper and Indra disperse next, before you look between Bellamy and Clarke and nod towards the exit. “We should probably tell Monty and Harper.”

They nod, and all of you head straight to the tech room where the couple are waiting, both of them monitoring the eye in the sky. The three of you catch them up quickly before working on a plan to save those you love before the worms make it to the valley. Once the plan is in place, Bellamy looks at each of you one by one before repeating, “Okay, let's go over this again. As soon as Echo and Raven get the eye down, we take the rover. We drive across the wasteland, and we break out our people before Wonkru attacks with the worms.”

As you think through the plan, and the hundred different ways it can go wrong, you decide to voice your concerns on the first issue that comes to mind. “Octavia will expect us to do something like that, she'll post sentries.”

“That's too bad for the sentries.”

His jaw is set, and you see a flash of the man that he was under Pike’s rule, and you don't like it. It took so long for Bellamy to come back from that, so much healing that had to happen, and you don't want him, or those around him, to have to go through that again. You're about to argue his point when Monty speaks up first, shaking the letter that you gave him earlier. “This was supposed to be Jasper's suicide note after we pulled him out of the City of Light. He was gonna put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger.”

Clarke mutters, “Monty, now's not the time.”

“Now is the perfect time.” He opens the letter, and begins to read, “'Monty, I know you're an optimist. You think better days are ahead, but that's not true. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. There's only the tunnel, another enemy to fight, another war. I've come to the conclusion that we're the problem, human beings, all of us.”

Your brows lift in surprise, Jasper’s note from the past voicing the very same concern you had a few days ago. You don’t want to believe that humans are the problem, that all of the war, and violence, and killing is just who you are. But sometimes, it’s hard to look at all the destruction that’s been left in your wake and not think that. Maybe the Earth would be better without all of you, but maybe the mess of human nature is what makes everything worth living. Clarke once told you that Lincoln had something similar to her: if death has no cost, then life has no worth. Maybe the death and destruction reminds all of you of the beauty of life. Without the bad stuff, maybe you wouldn’t realize how truly lucky all of you are. You’re alive, on the Universe’s prettiest planet, and you have each other. You have love and friendship and family. Maybe the fear of losing those things is what makes you keep going. Isn’t that why you’ve done the things you’ve done? To save Clarke or Bellamy or your people?

And maybe you shouldn’t need the terrible things to see the beauty in life. Maybe one day you can break the cycle, retire Wanlida and your Grounder knife for good. But right now, this war seems inevitable, determined to be fought by most of the people on both sides.

“The cycle can't be broken as long as we're here. That's why I won't be here. That's why-” Monty cuts himself off, fighting back a wave of emotion, and Harper steps closer to him, comforting him. “Monty, it's okay.”

“Jasper was smarter than all of us. It doesn't matter what we do, coming back to the ground, opening the bunker, all we've done is made things worse. If a war is the only way to have the last survivable land on Earth, then maybe we don't deserve it.”

He turns and walks out of the room, leaving you all to watch him leave. You can see the tears in Harper’s eyes, the sorrow that she’s holding back before she nods once in goodbye and follows him out the door. You, Bellamy, and Clarke all stare at each other, unsure what to do now, before you eventually plop down into the chair in front of the computer screen. Clarke takes a seat at the table across from you, dropping her head into her hands and closing her eyes, and Bellamy starts to pace behind you, moving back and forth across the room. The three of you stay like that for a while, until you see movement on the computer screen from the corner of your eye. You move your gaze to the lower left section of the screen, watching as code starts to move across it, and you call out, “Something’s happening!”

Clarke and Bellamy run over to you, and you watch as the screen suddenly changes to an aerial view over Polis. You stare at the screen in disbelief and mutter, “We’re in, Echo did it.”

Bellamy turns and starts to walk away, but Clarke calls out to him to stop him. “Wait, Bellamy. As soon as we tell her, she marches to war and unleashes those worms.”

“That's why we’ve got to get there first. We take the rover, we get our people out, then we worry about stopping the war, okay?” You and Clarke exchange a look, having a silent conversation, and you can see the second she agrees with his plan. You nod at her, and she nods at you, and Bellamy, who catches the exchange, heads to the door again, “Good. I'll get Monty and Harper, you two get Madi. We leave tonight.”

The three of you head out the door and split off, you and Clarke moving through the bunker in search of Madi. You know she’s supposed to be training, so you check the room you trained with Octavia in, finding it empty. But as you stand at the door and start to think of where to look next, the sound of sword fighting reaches your ears. You and Clarke lock eyes, figuring that’s where you need to be, and your ears eventually lead you to the atrium. As you step into the scene, you see all of the Wonkru novitiates sitting in a group, watching two of their own fight each other with wooden swords. Octavia, Cooper, and Gaia stand at the top, watching, and you see Octavia’s eyes fall on you and Clarke as you enter the room.

You and Clarke see Madi in the group, and she glances at you before watching the fight in front of her end, one of the boys now victorious. The loser stands and heads back to his seat, while the winner keeps his place in the center, waiting for the next contender. Gaia calls out, “Jonas, you're next.”

“Wait.” You all look towards Octavia, wondering what she’s doing, and you feel a rush of anxiety when you see Octavia’s eyes are still locked on you and Clarke. You get a rush of fear, suddenly aware that the two of you, along with Bellamy, openly defied her wishes earlier. “Madi, you're up. Fight.”

Madi looks at you and Clarke in alarm, and you see anxiety pass over Gaia's features as she tries to argue, “Blodreina, she's not ready.”

But one look from Octavia, and Gaia backs down, looking towards you and your twin apologetically. You can feel the tension rolling off Clarke in waves, but she keeps her expression neutral as Madi grabs her practice sword and moves to stand across from the previous victor. “Be the last.”

Madi holds her sword, doing her best to look uncomfortable with it, though you know she’s actively fighting against the knowledge she gained from you and Clarke training her. The previous victor lunges first, sending a flurry of moves towards Madi that leave her defending herself and able to do nothing else. He manages to catch her off guard and knocks her onto the ground, and you can hear some of the novitiates snicker as she pulls herself to her feet. You see her grip on her sword change, and your stomach sinks, already knowing where this is going. Madi glances towards you and Clarke, and you see your twin give an imperceptible shake of her head, also aware of the shift in Madi’s attitude.

But Madi ignores you both and lunges at the boy, assaulting him with a barrage of moves that leaves him breathless and looking at Madi in shock. You glance at Octavia and see her step towards the fence that wraps around the atrium, intrigued, before the boy gets upset and dives towards Madi, wanting to prove that he’s better. Unfortunately for him, Madi spent years training with you and Clarke and she beats him easily, knocking him to the ground and preparing to swing her sword down towards him when Gaia calls out, “Enough!”

Madi offers the boy a hand up as you and Clarke stand watching, unsure what to do, but Octavia is the first to break the silence. “Gaia, fit her for armor and get her a real sword.”

She descends from her place at the top and follows the ramp down and into the atrium, coming to stand across from your niece. “Madi, we're about to fight a war on your land, for your land, and I could really use a second who knows the terrain when we get there. What do you say, Madi kom Wonkru?”

Octavia extends her arm out to Madi, who doesn't hesitate and never glances your way. She just takes Octavia’s arm, the Grounder way, and Octavia smiles down at her. “All right, then. We march as soon as the eye's down.”

Octavia turns to look at you and Clarke for the first time, her eyes solely landing on Clarke, aware that she plays the role of mother. “I need to borrow her for a strategy session. You don't mind, do you, Clarke?”

You both know exactly what this is as soon as the words leave Octavia’s mouth: a power play. Octavia is upset that all of you have defied her from the moment the bunker was opened, and she’s now using Madi as a pawn in her game to get back at all of you, especially Clarke. But Clarke knows she can't deny Octavia this, because it will only put Madi further at risk. So instead, you watch her swallow her emotion and shake her head. “No, it’s fine.”

She glances at you and you can see the panic in her eyes, so you smile at Madi and Octavia before turning and heading back into the bunker, walking toward the tech room again. Clarke walks beside you, and you can see her face fall as soon as she’s turned away from everyone, managing to keep her composure until you’re out of view. You see a few tears threaten to fall, and you thread your fingers through hers, whispering, “We’ll figure this out.”

Clarke switches from sadness to anger quickly, mama bear mode now activated, and she sets her jaw before muttering, “I already have.”

You don't get the chance to ask her what she means, but you have a feeling it’s nothing good, judging by the anger in her expression. She pushes the door to the tech room open, and everyone turns to look at you, obviously missing one person. Bellamy glances at you then Clarke and asks, “Where's Madi?”

“With your sister.”

Bellamy turns to fully face her, clearly exasperated. “Clarke, we don't have time for this. We have to leave now. As soon as Diyoza realizes what Echo did, she's dead. We have no choice.”

You’re behind Clarke as Bellamy lectures her, shaking your head at him, trying to tell him to shut up before he makes it worse. But if he sees you, he ignores you, pushing on and doing exactly what you thought he would: making it worse. Clarke muses, “You're wrong. We have one.”

She walks into the room, heading towards the table and grabbing the radio that Bellamy was using to contact Diyoza’s mothership. Harper and Monty both reach out for her, trying to stop her, and Harper asks, “Wait, what are you doing?”

Clarke turns her gaze on Monty, saying exactly what he wants to hear. “Stopping the cycle.”

He pulls his hand off the radio, and Harper follows suit, allowing Clarke to lift the radio to her mouth, turning to face you. “This is Clarke Griffin. I have a question for Colonel Diyoza.”

You see Bellamy hold up his hands in confusion, silently mouthing to you, “What the hell is she doing?”

You just shake your head and shrug, because you tried to warn him, but he didn't listen. You all look towards the radio as Diyoza’s voice comes through a second later, “Hello, Clarke. It's been too long. What the hell do you want?”

“What would it take for you to share the valley?”

“Share it? Well, let me see. Short of an unconditional surrender, nothing.”

Monty shakes his head, “Octavia will never surrender.”

Bellamy looks at Clarke, seemingly understanding what her next words are going to be before she says them, because he turns away, bracing his hands on the table. Clarke shocks the rest of you into complete silence by retorting, “That's why we're gonna take her out.”

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction

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holy-hyuck · 4 years ago

Text

Our Maybes

It’s 3am, you can’t sleep, and Yeonjun can’t get you out of his head.

Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Swearing

link to my masterlist -> please be aware that this content is 100% mine and you are not to distribute it or take it without my consent

let me know what you think! 😊

Your eyes shut close, and open a minute after - it feels like that, at least, but the time on your phone tells you it’s been two hours. It doesn’t matter anyway because by seven you’ll feel tired again, and your 8am class won’t let you get any sleep.

It takes a minute but eventually, your eyes adjust to the dark and you stare at your door a little longer. Perhaps you could will yourself back to sleep.

Nah, who are you kidding?

Throwing the covers off, you put on your slippers and the bright orange hoodie haphazardly thrown on the floor the night before. As your feet drag across the carpeted floor, you notice how silent the house in. You can hear everything; your own thoughts, for once, the ticking of the clock, a dog barking outside, Changbin’s snoring, and...glass breaking? Someone cursing?

Who on earth is up at half-past three in the morning? Oh, right. You.

The stairs creak ever so slightly as you descent down them, praying you won’t trip in the darkness, but the floor and the walls are brighter than usual. Then, you notice the light coming from the kitchen and some shuffling, the crispiness of glass breaking underneath a heavy object.

“Fuck.” You hear someone mutter and take a peek into the room. It’s Yeonjun, still in yesterday’s clothes, hitting the plastic edge of the dustpan against the bin, emptying it out. You’re grateful you put on slippers - Yeonjun can’t sweep to save his life.

You watch him chuck the brush and the dustpan into the cupboard below the sink and close it with a slam, startling himself. You let out a giggle and he turns around, only spotting you now, leaning your hand against the wall.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He scratches the back of his neck and smiles at you sheepishly.

You shake your head. “You didn’t.” You walk up to the kitchen island and hop on the marble. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No. I have a test to study for. You too?”

“Something like that,” you answer, then thank him with a nod for the glass of water he slides your way. You watch him take a sip before staring off into space.

You’ve always found Yeonjun attractive, ever since the first day of university when he helped you carry your things into your room, his hair a dark brown colour. A month later, it was silver, and before Easter, a navy blue. Now, he’s sporting a platinum blond colour, but it doesn’t really matter if he has the rainbow on his head or if he’s completely bald - his visuals are out of this world either way.

Your drop your gaze before he has a chance to catch you staring, and play with the strings on your pyjama shorts. You wrap them around your finger, then release, over and over until Yeonjun coughs and you will yourself to look up at him. He gives you a smile you can’t help but reciprocate; he has that effect on you sometimes.

“Hey, put on some shoes. I’m gonna take you somewhere,” he tells you, dropping the glass into the sink rather harshly and running to get his coat and shoes on.

“What?” You’re perplexed but don’t have time to protest, for Yeonjun is nowhere around to hear it. With a sigh, you hop off the kitchen island and do as you’re told, debating whether you should put on some pants but disregarding the idea when Yeonjun’s bright smile meets your expression, and all you can think is how much you want to make him smile like that again.

“Let’s go.” He grabs your hand, grabs his keys, and locks the door of your shared apartment behind him.

The air outside is still, and again, you can hear everything. You can feel everything. The city is asleep, but everything is so alive as you’re trudging through the small streets of your equally small town, side by side.

“I thought you had a test to study for,” you finally say.

Yeonjun releases a ghost of a laugh. It’s warm, like the air around you. “It’s only ten minutes from our house. I promise you’ll like it. Maybe it’ll help you sleep better.”

You nod, though he can’t see you because he’s looking from left to right to cross the street, grabbing your hand and making you follow him as he crosses the road. You don’t know why he looked both ways, or why he wants you to be safe - the city’s sleeping, much like you should be. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.

“Here.”

“Where is here?”

You look around, and all you see are rows of houses, lined up like dominoes. You’re standing in front of a tall gate, the blue paint old and chipping away with every harsh wind and icy winter, and it’s not long, you think, before it falls apart.

“Come on.” You watch as he climbs up the fence, the swaying of the metal making your heart skip a beat as it moves one with his body, and then he jumps off at the other end, leaving you amazed at his agility.

“I’ll catch you if you need me to.”

He motions for you to do the same, and though with hesitation, you grip the metal, surprised by its warmth, and follow his actions. He doesn’t catch you when you jump off to join him; he doesn’t have to, for you do so with ease, but you want him to. Maybe you just want an excuse for him to hold you.

You follow him up some creaky stairs, ending up on a roof of an abandoned warehouse. It’s almost entirely flat, aside from the raised edges preventing your fall, and a gradual slope in the middle, its top flat as well. It’s big enough to room one, perhaps two people.

Yeonjun’s quick to hop on the top, his long legs helping him up the slope. It’s a bizzare structure for a roof, but perhaps that’s why Yeonjun likes it so much; he can sit here and watch every sunset and sunrise, colours seeping into each other like on an abstract painting.

You don’t follow right away, opting to lean back and watch the city, but he reaches out with his leg and nudges you with it, forcing you to go up and join him. He holds your hand until you’re safely next to him, and you’re quick to jerk it away, afraid he’ll notice the sweat coating your palm. It’s his fault for making you so nervous.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He grabs your attention with his words and you nod in agreement. “You should come up here at sunset. It’s even better.”

Again, you nod and stare forward. The city shines, mimicking the stars in the sky, and it’s funny how the first thing you think of is light pollution.

You like the town the way it is; small, quiet, homely, but your heart races thinking of the wildness you could experience just the next town over, a city of life and bright lights, where the night never ends, and the sun never comes up.

Yeonjun coughs again and you wonder if he has a cold, looking at him quizzically.

“So...” He gives you a smile.

“So...” you repeat, furrowing your brows. Why is he acting so weird? “Don’t you have an exam to study for? What are we actually doing here, Yeonjun?”

“Yeah, about that...” He scratches the back of his neck, letting his legs hang over the edge, bringing his hands together. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“We’re talking.”

Your reply makes a frown appear on his face but you laugh it off, and so does he, only after a pause.

“Go on then.”

You look ahead, closing your eyes as you enjoy the gentle breeze of summer on your skin. This is what content feels like. The hot and humid weather gets to you sometimes but you love summer nights; there’s something in them that brings you back to when you were ten, careless and free, like the wind that blows in all four directions without caring what or who it stumbles upon, unable to be controlled.

Suddenly, you feel extra warmth on the skin of your left hand and look to Yeonjun’s hand holding yours. Before you have time to question the action, he speaks up.

“Listen, I-I like you. I’ve honestly liked you since I met you; you were so cute struggling with all those boxes, and then I told you should have taken a suitcase instead, like the others. You remember what you said? That you’re not like the others-”

“-that apparently I’m stupider. Yeah.” You laugh, recalling the memory. Really, you procrastinated buying a suitcase large enough to fit all your years of unhealthy hoarding, and forgot your family were taking theirs on vacation, and you couldn’t be late for your first day at university, now, could you?

“Yeah.” He sighs. “And I was so glad I decided to live on campus. And then Yeri found out about my crush and told me to confess, and I swear I was so ready until your crush on Hyunjae came out and-”

“Ugh.” You make a face and Yeonjun burst out laughing. “Don’t remind me. How could I ever have a crush on someone so self-absorbed?”

“Beats me.” His words make you laugh. After a pause, and much debating inside his head, he speaks up again, “Summer came and I thought I could let go of this crush, but we both just had to decide to come back for the summer.”

He turns you towards him, and you don’t have it in you to push away as he grabs both your hands into his, holding them in front of his chest. “I never let go of you. And I don’t really want to. Maybe I’m crazy, and this will never work out, not in a million years. But I’m also the guy who ignores all the signs of balding, like the clumps of hair after I shower, and continues dying his here like my life depends on it, and I’m still going to ask you to be my girlfriend.”

“Woah there,” you vomit out the words, an action fueled by your twisting stomach, the butterflies’ wings tangled up, unable to escape. “Shouldn’t you ask me on a date first?”

Yeonjun furrows his brows, tilting his head to the side. “Would you say yes?”

You shrug in response, teasing the boy. “I don’t know. If you make it worth my time.”

“You little-” He lunges at you, his hands slipping underneath your jumper, fingers dancing on your skin. The tickling causes your body to jerk backwards, yelling for the heavens to hear, until you’re almost falling off the edge and let out a shriek.

Yeonjun has quick reflexes, though, and catches you, holding you so close to him you feel the rise and fall of his chest. He looks from your eyes to your lips, to his hands holding your shoulders.

“Don’t tell me you planned this,” you breathe out, mixing your breath with his in the stillness of the air.

He shrugs in response, and you expect a small smile on his face, but there’s nothing, not even a trace; his expression is unreadable.

You sigh, detaching yourself from him, then shifting so it’s comfortable for you to lay your head on his chest. You feel his heartbeat - erratic and uneven - as it’s thumping against your ear, and your hands clutch his shirt. His are holding you close like you’re still slipping over the edge, and his lips sigh against your hair.

“We should probably go,” you mumble, “before the sun rises and everyone notices we’re missing.”

“Let them notice. I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon.”

You smile. “Then neither am I.”

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ceratonia-siliqua · 4 years ago

Text

The Descent

This is the prequel to Heaven is a Prison (a place far worse than hell)! This can be read stand alone and it doesn’t matter which you read first but they are ordered based on publishing dates!

I highly recommend reading this on Ao3 since I include some plot notes at the end of the fic! You don’t need them though, they just explain a few things.

To the anon who requested this, sorry it took so long!

Ao3 Link

Summary: After Bucky's accident, it's a struggle to get back to normal, especially when things go sideways on the first day...

Warnings: Inces/t (father/son), Brain Injury, Extremely Non-Con, Forced Feminization, Dirty Talk, Humping, Cum Eating, and Underage/d.

. . . . . . . . . .

“Where’s my baby?”

When the doctors told Peter that was the first thing out of his father’s mouth after the accident, Peter broke down in tears. The kind that shimmer with relief and exhaustion as all the anxiety suddenly vacates your body. A nurse guided him to a side room, sat with him as he cried it out. She let him have his moment of weakness, didn’t say a word till he seemed ready to speak. Even then all she asked was if he was okay now.

He nodded, tried to explain that his dad’s odd sentence was a good thing. He’d always been his dad’s baby, since the day he was born and the nickname carried even into today at times. Just like his dad was always Daddy when they were at home, though this he kept to himself. Two words they had never grown out of and meant that if nothing else, his dad knew enough to be worried about Peter and want to see him.

When he seemed calm enough, the nurse placed an empathetic hand on his shoulder and offered to take him to his dad. Peter was out of his seat in a second, nodding wildly and wanting nothing more. They left, walking down a sterile white corridor, occasionally marked with signs or a piece of artwork to bring some color back into the monochromatic scheme of the floors and walls. It was isolating and… while not unfriendly, it certainly wasn’t welcoming.

The sliding glass doors that lead to the rooms were made private by a curtain, pulled close in just about every room, including Bucky’s. Before Peter could burst through and see his dad the nurse pulled him aside.

“Peter, your dad… He’s awake but he didn’t get out unscathed.”

“I know, Ma’am. He got hit by a truck.” On a motorcycle. It has been low speeds which was the only reason he survived the semi tap that sent him spinning out into a ditch.

“No, honey. I’m not talking just physically. The doctors’ did some brain scans. He’s swelled up real bad and he might not remember things or be acting the way you remember.”

He could tell she was withholding details, the way she glanced down at one point gave it away. Her eyes momentarily filled with guilt she thought he hadn’t caught. He let it go for her sake.

“Okay… I still can see him though, right?” Doe eyes drove a stake straight through the poor woman’s heart, even if Peter hadn’t meant to.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have brought you just to make you march back out. Just know there is no shame in needing a minute. Okay? He’s still beat up pretty bad and is gonna be sore. He also needed to be put in mitts because he kept trying to pull his tubes out. We’re hoping they’ll get to come off once he’s settled down a bit.”

Peter nodded along, understanding and listening, but far more concerned with his dad and being by his side. It had been the two of them since he was born, the idea of losing him was a cold clawing dread that made him nauseous. Without his dad he had nothing, the idea of losing someone who was such a center piece in his life was like asking him to live without air. He was nowhere near ready to let go of his dad.

Eventually the nurse was satisfied. She opened the sliding door, standing back as Peter entered before closing it lightly behind him. With a deep, shuddering inhale, he pushed past the curtains.

The eyes he was met were his dad's, the color, the shape, all the same physically, but there was something fuzzy behind them, strange. Peter put it up to the medications and the obvious head injury, nobody would be one hundred percent after that kind of diagnosis. The slightly unfocused gaze cluing him in until suddenly they were shockingly alert and fixed on him. The mitts the nurse had warned him about reached out towards him, his dad laid out on his back.

“Darling, come here. Need to make sure you’re okay.” The movements were clumsy and while he understood perfectly what was being said, there was an off slur to the words and pauses.

Peter drew closer, coming up to the bed. His dad ran uncoordinated, mitted hands down his arms, expression focused despite the clear haze. The frustration was evident in his movements as he was unable to properly assess Peter’s state with the slabs of foam under his palms.

“How are you feeling, dad?” He gently grabbed Bucky’s wrists, trying to get him to make eye contact.

“I’m alright, just need to make sure you’re okay.” Grumbled out as he allowed Peter to hold onto him.

“Do you need anything? Water? A snack?”

“Just you baby, just you.” He pulled his wrists out of his son’s hands, went back to touching him as best as he could manage.

Tears fuzzed out the edges of his vision, Peter reached for his daddy. Needed to feel the one person in his life who made the world feel shapeless without his presence. Bent over at the hips and practically laying on the wounded man below him. He choked out a sob as strong, familiar arms closed over his shoulders and drew him in, chest to chest.

“I thought you were gone.” Not enough air in his lungs to make the words sound complete as they were punched out of him.

Dragged in as close as he could manage, Bucky tucked his nose behind his son’s ear. “Never. I’d never leave you behind, Peter.”

Hiccups, the kind you only get with the worst of tears, pelted his breathing. Hitched his breath every other beat as he came off the adrenaline and tried to settle back into his skin. Peter hid in Bucky’s shoulder, face obscured from the rest of the world as hot tears rolled down his dad’s neck, breaking the poor man’s heart.

Mitts passed over his head, trying to push fingers through his curls and failing. A growl tumbled through the chest beneath his palms as his dad cursed the damn restraints, Peter joined him silently. He glanced over his shoulder, the curtain was still closed.

“Dad, the nurse says you have to wear the mitts because you keep pulling things out--”

“‘Cause they weren’t letting me see you.”

“If I take them off, will you promise not to tug on anything?” He would probably get in massive trouble for this but it wasn’t like they could do more than kick him out of the hospital. Surely so long as they put them back on after it would be fine.

“I won’t so long as you stay here.” Bucky held out his restrained hands, wanting the offending things off.

With one last glance over his shoulder, Peter undoes the velcro on one hand but left the other in it’s mitt, thinking it was easier to justify one “slipping” off than both of his hands free.

Without sparing a second, the free hand roams through his curls, trailing down the back of his neck, where they come to rest. Tangled their way through the soft baby hairs there, vulnerable and intimate. His dad props himself up on one arm, pulling Peter’s neck carefully down towards him while rising to meet him. Seeing that a kiss was coming, Peter turned his cheek, offering his dad easy access to the spot. His dad missed the mark, pressing at the underside of his jaw and holding for two shuddering heartbeats.

When he pulled back, Peter was surprised to find disappointment in his dad’s features. Lip set in a displeased line and eyes turned in a disgruntled tilt. Maybe he was just upset that he missed..? Peter gave a kiss as well, hoping it would erase that upset look. His own placed on his dad’s nose, slightly playful in an attempt to get a smile.

It worked, Bucky’s face melted into a grin as he pulled Peter all the way down, tucking his boy’s face into his shoulder. Awkwardly bent in half, Peter is forced to shimmy his lower half onto the bed and makes an undignified squeak when his dad slips a few fingers through his belt loops and uses them as leverage to help him onto the bed. His dad’s soft chuckle in response left a shadow of embarrassment but the sweet sound melted him. He needed this, to be close after feeling like the world stood between them before, ready to take the only man who cared about him away. The heavy rise and fall of his dad’s much larger chest reminding him that he was alive, that they both were.

“...Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re not allowed to ride the bike anymore.”

The rumbling, loud laughter made the bossy statement into something concerned and gentle. He wasn’t being laughed at but instead humored. “I promise, no more bike. Don’t think I could in this state anyway. “

His forehead scratched across the short sleeve of the hospital gown as he hid from the light. Surrounded by darkness and the smell of his daddy, he was at peace for the moment. There was a small shift and Peter heard something fall on the floor. Just about to ask what that had been, he feels both hands, now free, run down his sides. He jumped when they slipped under his shirt, stroking at the skin around his slight love handles. About to ask what he was doing, they’re interrupted by a knock.

Peter jumped up, hands fell away as his dad grabbed one of the mitts and stuck it back on. Peter goes to peak behind the curtain and see who was asking to enter.

A doctor, all clean pressed with his white lab coat. Some voice in the back of his head piped up, recalling how deceiving the coat was in it’s clean exterior since lab coats are hardly washed as much as they should be and become vectors for illnesses. He is considering if letting such a thing near his dad is something he’s going to allow when he is reminded of his place. The doctor carefully pushed past him, Peter ignored like a small child, seen and not heard. He wants to fume but the need to play nice won out. He just needed to stamp down the territorial urges a bit better.

His dad managed to get one mitt back on but the other one was sitting loosely on his hand. He hid it from the doctor, tucking his hands in his lap to hide the strap. The scene threw him. With the way his dad had been acting he thought he was completely out of it, but that split second scene suggested his dad was still able to rationalize and know well enough to hide the mitt situation. Maybe he imagined it? Things were definitely a little off, just something about the energy around his dad was different. It could be that some parts of his brain were affected and not others.

Lost in his musings about the two-second detail, he missed what the doctor was saying. At the tailend he tuned in, catching the doctor saying something about physical and occupational therapy and his eventual home release.

“--Once we get your walking coordination back in tune you should be good to go. You’ve displayed some ability already according to the nurse when she’s helped you to the komode, which is excellent. We’ll likely be able to send you home in the next few weeks if things go as I am hoping.”

Peter hoped the doctor was right, or maybe wrong and that his dad would be coming home earlier than expected. The last few days alone in their apartment had been painfully quiet. Uncle Steve had been swinging by to help feed him and check in but he’d been unable to hold much of a conversation with him when they were both swimming with anxiety. Unsurprisingly, his mom still had not called to check in, thank god she flaked on her two weeks with him or he may not have been allowed to go back to the apartment he and his dad shared.

“Sounds good, Doctor. Anything I can do to help speed it along? I have things to do at home.” His dad shot him a look and Peter had no clue what it was supposed to mean. He felt like there was a hidden meaning there he wasn’t quite catching but was being expected to know.

“Patience is key, Mr. Barnes. If you push too hard, too fast you might backslide in progress. Just do as the physical therapist advises and they should be able to help you get back on your feet in a timely manner.” The doctor then proceeded to prattle off a few more things before a nurse came in with medications. He didn’t get a chance to spend more time with his dad as his phone pinged, Steve was there to come get him. He had school in the morning. Part of him wanted to blow it off, just spend the night by his dad’s side but Steve wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer on this one. Dodging the nurse, Peter pressed a quick kiss to his dad’s cheek and a hasty goodbye before he was shooed off. He left, looking back over his shoulder like he expected his dad to somehow be following.

_______

When he got the news that his daddy was going to be coming home, Peter flew into a near frenzy. He scrubbed the whole apartment three times and had reorganized his closet twice in just four days. Climbing up the walls, he was impatient and wanted his dad home now. The apartment had been too quiet for too long. Nothing ever moved unless Peter moved it and it was jarring to find things where he’d left them. He never realized how often things shifted in a shared space till they stopped. He hated it, wanted nothing more than to go back to normal, whatever their new normal ended up being.

Steve brought Bucky home Friday night, nearly a month after the accident. The father and son duo had hardly seen each other in that time, visits rarely lining up and the nurses deciding that his dad was always too worked up after seeing his son. Peter practically threw himself into his daddy’s arms, burying his face firmly in the solid wall of the other man’s chest. Thankfully, he was small enough that he hadn’t knocked Bucky off his feet. He seemed to still be getting his footing and walked in a slightly stilted manner that made Peter just the tiniest bit upset to see.

They all had dinner before Steve left, having things that needed to be done and trusting Peter to keep Bucky out of trouble. Nothing of much note happened that first night, Bucky too tired to do more than change clothes and land face down in bed. Peter left him to it, not wanting to bother his clearly exhausted father.

The morning, well, that is when things began their strange descent.

Peter was brushing his teeth, staring into the mirror with the expression unique to those who had stayed up just a little later than intended. Leaning down to spit into the running water of the sink and rinse his mouth, Peter jumped when something pressed against him. Spinning and nearly taking his hip out on the counter, he relaxes when blue eyes stare back at him.

“You scared me.” Peter, in his relief, didn’t catch the odd look that passed through Bucky’s eyes as he looked down on his son.

“You weren’t in bed, I heard the water running and thought I would check on you.” A large hand reached out, cupping Peter’s face.

Confused but not about to question the affection, Peter tips his face into the palm of his dad’s hand. “Did you need anything?”

“No, I just wasn’t sure where you had gone. You weren’t in bed with me when I went asleep, I thought you would be there by the time I woke up.” His thumb slid over the delicate skin of his lower eyelid, a light, affectionate gesture.

Only more puzzled by the statement, Peter lifts his head, not realizing he’d done it until he notices the hand following as though glued to his skin. “Why did you think that?”

It was Bucky’s turn to look confused. “Don’t you always sleep with me?”

Peter shook his head. “No, not in a long time. Sometimes I come and sit on the bed with you in the morning but I don’t normally sleep there.” His dad must really be messed up if he was expecting Peter to do something he hadn’t since he was eight.

“Did I do something wrong? Why don’t you sleep in our bed anymore?” Fingers flexing against Peter’s scalp.

Our bed? “No, no, I’m just not supposed too. It’s not normal for a teenager to sleep in the same bed as his dad.” This really was not the conversation he was expecting to have to have today.

“Says who? Peter, you’re always welcome in bed. I want you there, it lets me know you’re safe if you're near.”

Oh, that makes a little more sense at least. Maybe his dad was just nervous after the accident, wanted the security of having him near after all he’s been through. Admittedly, the thought of staying in the same room was appealing, he’d been jumpy ever since his dad had been in the hospital. Daddy wasn’t there to scare away the shadows that haunted their apartment, something he did just by being and hadn’t been obvious until he was no longer there.

“Would it make you feel better if I was in bed with you tonight?”

The beaming smile he got in response was so sweet, so heartfelt, that Peter felt himself smiling back. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Then tonight I’ll do it.” With the matter settled, Peter slipped out of his dad’s grasp and the bathroom. He heard the shuffling behind him that signaled he was being trailed. He plopped on the couch in the living room, flipping on the TV for some background noise.

Bucky settled in beside him, close enough their thighs are sealed together. Peter leaned over, tipped his head against one broad shoulder, sighed. An arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him in tight.

“Missed you, lovebug.”

Peter nuzzled his shoulder, smiling at the childhood nickname. “Missed you too, Daddy.” Teased just a little, lifting into a sweeter tone for the title.

They relaxed, a soothing hand running over his ribs. Up and down, up and down. He lost focus on the show quickly, closed his eyes and soaked up the gentle affection. The petting turns into a circular motion, one that slipped under the back of his shirt and over his skin. Daddy flipped back and forth between the two, always a warm hand trailing under his shirt. It made him sleepy, cravied a mid-morning nap as a result. He yawned and was rewarded with a crown of kisses across his forehead.

“Sleepy baby.” A honey tinged chuckle that made Peter soft and squishy. “Wanna go to bed, honey? Let Daddy take care of you for a little bit?”

Peter nodded, let himself be manhandled into strong arms, forgot to be concerned about his dad’s ability to do this when he felt so safe in his arms. Hadn’t been carried like this since he was small, loved the attention as he got a wet kiss on the cheek and was squished into the much broader body. Couldn’t resist giggling before he relaxed back.

The walk was short, a hand cupped his rear as the door was closed and the covers pulled back. He’d kept his eyes closed, lulling through the early stages of sleep. Still, the cool darkness of the room was pleasant behind his eyelids. He was set down amongst the covers, held close as Daddy slid up beside him. He was cradled, the back of his head cupped and used to press him gently into the crook of his dad’s neck. The other wrapped around his lower back. Peter was too far gone to do anything but doze off, warm and content.

_____

Peter woke up as his legs were folded into his chest, something hot and blunt pressed against his hole, startling him onto alert. He thrashed, trying to rip his legs away from whatever was restraining them so he could flee. His reward was the weight of a body pressing down against his calves, his feet stuck uncomfortably against a washboard stomach as his thighs are pressed into his chest He’s folded in half and had no time to think as he’s suddenly opened up on the head of a cock.

Terrified, he cried out in pain as someone sheathed themself inside him, pain slowly working it’s way up his spine as he was stretched. Forced to take and take and take what feels like an unending length, too thick for his small body to accommodate.

“S-stop. Stop!” Tears start to come, it hurts, it hurts and he can’t get away from it.

“Shh… It’s okay. You’re okay, baby. It’s just Daddy.” The rumbling tenor stops Peter dead in his tracks.

He actually focused, looked to see what was going on rather than run on blind panic. A sob ripped through him as his dad stared down at him. It must be a dream, a nightmare.

“You’re doing so well, lovebug. I know it’s been a long time since Daddy’s been in here, just relax.”

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin when a thumb ran across his rim, swiping over the place where their bodies connected. Treated as if it were normal, like they were two lovers in the midst of a reunion and not a father recovering from a brain injury and his confused son.

“Love this pussy, always so sweet for me. Yeah, there it is, let Daddy in sweetness.”

Peter blushed an angry tomato red. His dad was talking to his asshole while he sank his cock inside of him like this was something they’d done before and not sending Peter headlong into a panic attack.

Trying to suck down air as the panic in his body rose, he pushed against the wall of steel before him. “No, no, nonono, take it out! Take it out!!” The answering roll of hips made his back arch of the bed. Too much, it was too much.

“There’s my boy.” The slide of cock leaving his body was a relief until it rocked back in. The thrusts reached deeper inside of him than he thought possible. “Just need something to fill you up and make you feel good to get you settled down. So pretty, Peter. You’re a dream, baby doll.”

The thrusts start slow and pick up pace at the same rate the pain subsides to the pleasure of being filled. The fight left him as the sweet little spot inside his hole is battered and ground against with every slide. Peter doesn’t register his moans, sounding far away and not a part of him. He does register the squeal, the high pitched whine as his neck is assaulted with tooth and tongue. Flushed at the loud, wet slapping of his Daddy’s balls as they bounced off his rear. Now brought to his attention, it made him jump each time they hit the mark.

“This pussy hasn’t been fed in so long, has it sweetheart? Just waiting for Daddy to come home so it can swallow up the cock it needs. Cum hungry little cunt, all for me, ain’t that right?”

None of it made sense, nothing like this had happened before. Later, Peter would put the dots together, would see the little things that point to what was going on in his dad’s head. Would all fall into place when Daddy gets mad about him shying away and asks him why he’s rejecting him when Peter is his and has been for so long. Something got knocked loose, butchered some memories until this became something he could only imagine Peter wanting. But that was later, outside this moment. A time away from this second where Peter was moaning like a bitch in heat as his dad made him feel, took his first cock and got to enjoy the skill that comes with someone so much older.

The last few thrusts are violent, made him yip as hips slammed down onto his ass and turned the skin red. The rush of cum made his body shake, not knowing what to do as he’s filled.

“Cream-filled, just how I like this little hole. Soppy and wet just like a real pussy, huh baby? Think Daddy can have his pie and eat it too?”

The words meant nothing, all Peter could do was shake his head, hoped it would get him out of this. He ached both in his ass and his locked joints. Just end, please, that’s all he wanted.

But it doesn’t.

Bucky slides out, slowly, dragging it out so that Peter has to feel every vein on it’s way out the door. He sighs, relieved as the pressure on his legs is let up. He goes to lower them, stretch out and hopefully roll away but they’re grabbed and suddenly he’s flat on his belly, his cock making itself known as it slides over the sticky sheets. His back cold as the sweat is exposed to the cool air. A pitiful, displeased noise fell from his lips as a face forced itself between his thighs. A tongue, scorching hot, lapped at the cum seeping from his gaping pussy. His poor battered cunt loosened into a pouting mouth as a searching tongue makes out with it, wet and messy.

He can’t help it as his hips tip forward, seeking out release as his cocklet stands red and angry. It hurts and the sheets glide over it in a way that makes the ache settle and that same tingly feeling from earlier skitter it’s way up to the base of his skull. Hands come up to his hips, guiding as their master eats out his hole like he doesn’t need air to live. It brings him to the edge, paints his belly white with shame as the orgasm wracks his body.

Collapsed on the sheets, Peter curled up. Too much, too much. His brain shut down, taking him to a place that’s fuzzier, not yet forcing him to process what has just happened. It’s why he doesn’t fight as a hand and tongue coax his jaw open, why he only shudders and obediently swallows as cum is smeared and drooled into his mouth.

“Seems you’re just as hungry for cum as your hole.” It’s said like a joke, like it’s meant to be teasing.

Peter just wrapped his arms around his head and prayed for sleep.

#siliqua writes #winterspider #peter parker x bucky barnes

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botwstoriesandsuch · 5 years ago

Note

YES! POST THINGS! IM BORED!!!

Okie Dokie here you go!

The real reason I wanted an ask was because the original person who asked for this prompt isn’t in my inbox anymore...? Someone requested a one-shot about Revali failing at his gale, but I can’t find it in the inbox because I’m dumb/technology issues? (I think their name was trash mammal or something, idk). Anyway, here’s that, although I kinda, accidentally turned it into a character analysis of Revali...But an anon said that I apologize too much with requests. Therefore, I’m NOT sorry about that, I’m NOT sorry for the wait, and I’m NOT sorry that this is 3487 words long. Enjoy!

Edit: Sorry if the format looks weird on mobile, idk why!

The Pride of the Rito

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild

Revali x Reader

The night was bitter in more ways than one. The snow that tumbled down on the Flight Range was thick, leaving clumps of ice on the roof. The air was hazy, a silver atmosphere that commanded the winds to howl towards the sky. The rugged mountains that surrounded the area isolated him and the trench. The only thing that could be seen past the lingering snowstorm was the faint blue glow of Medoh in the sky, for even the stars were captured under the white, with not a twinkle in sight. Outside, the flurries rested on the tips of his feathers and beak, a delicate moment in the midst of his relentless training.

Again. Let’s do it again. I need to be more precise.

Revali knelt on the edge, teetering between the solid ground and the emptiness below him.

He brushed the tips of his wing against the rocks, the winds rushing between his feathers. His body relaxed for a moment, closing his eyes and feeling the air. Then, he tensed, stiffening his wings on either side, in a motion as if to summon something from the earth. Well, he was summoning something. The air, the wind, the movement, the authority to conjure a draft below him. The winds were now picking up, swirling violently and circling under him, he could feel his jade anklets clinking around from the rampant air.

Keep going. Keep. Going. It needs to be stronger, faster.

The falling snow was now alive, dancing around as they were swept into the hurricane-like entity that was now surrounding Revali. His braids were flapping in the air, his cream colored scarf billowing. The winds were now cutting, bitter cold nipping despite his feathered features.

Now, up. Release with control, direct it upwards. Not all at once. Keep the energy. Follow through the whole way. Command the ascent. Steer the flow. This is it!

A shaky breath escaped him. A strange charge now filled the air. The winds, once turbulent, now suddenly stilled, seeming to wait for their cue. He could feel it still swirling, inside of him, ready to burst at any moment. Then, his wings, still strained on either side of him, gave a mighty flap. The air now roared back to life, swelling beneath him.

A tornado, a great pillar of air, now released into the sky.

And he flew

…straight into a rocky cliff.

“ARGH–”

The wind, quite literally, was knocked out of Revali, as he connected with the rocky ridge. He dropped, and then fell on the ground with a thud. He laid there, aching for a moment, before letting out a deep sigh.

Revali started to move, slightly, just enough to get his head out of the dirt. Then he knelt on the ground, for what seemed like an eternity, contemplating. Finally, he got up. The Rito armor, now dusted with grey snow and rocky debris, had protected most of him, however, it couldn’t protect the blow to his confidence. He cursed under his breath.

It seemed that instead of streaming Revali towards the sky, the gale had pushed him back, sideways towards the surrounding cliffs. With another flap of his wings, he moved back towards the wooden hut, shaking his head.

He landed on the armrest of the balcony, making his way to a little oaken desk. Snatching his journal (astutely named The Diary of Revali, the Rito Legend) he started scribbling down notes. Of course, being so focused on recording his latest happenings, he failed to notice the Hylian sitting amongst the pillows and blankets behind him. Putting the rest of his thoughts onto paper, Revali turned around and was greeted by your smiling face.

“Gah! [Name]? What– when did…how long have you been here?”

You gave a quiet chuckle.

“Just half an hour or so. A blizzard was coming in and I knew you would be out practicing again. Being stuck here, alone all night, isn’t really ideal. So…”

You moved the blanket off of you, spreading your arms wide as if to present yourself or pose. A cheeky grin on your face.

“Ta-da! Now you have company!”

Moving the leather strap around your shoulder, you tugged a satchel onto your lap. Digging through, you pulled out two sealed containers.

“Plus, I brought some spicy meat stew.”

Revali shook his head, moving closer to the blankets, but not daring to sit down.

“That’s alright, I’m not hungry.”

Acknowledging, and subsequently ignoring his comment, you shoved the soup container towards his chest, forcing him to hold it.

“What? You get full from eating the snow and pebbles from your fall just now?”

His eyes then narrowed, “I’m trying to train.”

“By starving and injuring yourself?”

“By perfecting my technique– Listen, [name], if you came here to distract me from my goal, I’m sorry to inform you that your efforts will be for naught.”

Revali turned around, placing the spicy meat stew on the desk. He started making his way towards the landing outside.

You have out a huff. Getting up to follow him, you tossed both of the containers back into your bag and started walking.

“Instead of focusing on long forgotten spiritual magic, why don’t you just focus on being the best you, you can be?”

“Farore above, did you really just say that? Incredibly cliche, I expected more of you–”

“I was joking.”

“Hmm, we need to work on your sense of humour.”

Outside, the air stung on your cheeks. The snowstorm still clouded the sky, masking both the heavens and the earth in white. Shivering, you asked,

“Rito can already fly, can’t they? This seems a bit redundant, you already have wings. What’s even the point of creating an updraft?”

Revali slowed his pace to give out a hearty laugh. In fact, he stopped outright, on the edge of the landing, the echoes of his laughter filling the air. At this point it wasn’t entirely clear if he was being sarcastic or not. You crossed your arms, he stopped when he met your stiff gaze.

“Oh, so you were being serious then…”

A familiar smug expression crossed onto Revali’s face. He hopped back onto the railing, perhaps so he could physically look down on you. He tucked his wings behind his back, leaning forward ever so slightly. A professor about to give a lecture. This should be good.

“Well, as understandable as it is that a Hylian couldn’t comprehend the benefits of such an ability, allow me to enlighten you. Rito style archery is the most superior in all of Hyrule for a multitude of reasons. The light crafting of the bow, the quick and efficient draw, our graceful movements and technique,

“But most importantly…”

He took one foot of the edge, half hovering over the windy pit.

“…the ability of flight!”

Both feet were now off the railing. Revali dove head first into the abyss. While you knew he was probably going to be fine, instinct kicked in as you hurried to the edge to check on him.

Snow still fell through the air, flurries were once again sticking to his feathers. But all he felt was adrenaline, along with the rush of air as he plummeted towards the bottom. Before hitting the watery depths, he unfurled his wings, catching the natural updrafts of the Flight Range. Now soaring towards the sky, Revali gave a few more mighty flaps to get even more height.

Still on the landing, you watched as a blur of navy blue rose above the cliffs. Contrasting with the grey and silver landscape, the blur shot through the air. Then it hovered, just below the clouds, still as a leaf.

Above the Flight Range, Revali shifted the bow off his back, allowing it to drop. Repositioning his weight, he dove down to catch it with a practiced grip. Falling through the air, he flipped upside down, just for show. Taking arrows from his quiver, he knocked them into place. Three arrows, all at once, were released.

Thud!

All made perfect contact with the bullseye, the blue luminescent paint on the targets showing evidence of Revali’s accuracy and precision. Revali fastened another round of arrows, drawing them back before letting them through the air.

Thud!

Perfect, as should be expected of me.

Now, he was about halfway down in his descent.

I think [Name] might be impressed if I warm up the place…

Taking the arrows near the bottom of the quiver, he took out three heavier bomb arrows. Round, scarlet heads held a good amount of gunpowder. Sparking them with a piece of flint on the arrow rest, the fuses were lit, and he let them loose.

BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!

The once frigid air now subsided in the wake of three explosions. The colors of a sunrise clashed in the air, bits of the once turquoise targets nearly flung into your face. You ducked, the warmth of fire now filling the Flight Range.

Revali spread his wings, catching the natural drafts once more, then settled back on the railing.

“As you could see from my demonstration, taking to the sky allows for Rito to shoot our enemies without becoming a stationary target ourselves. However, you can only shoot for as long as you’re falling, and taking to the skies takes time.

“You can’t just flap your wings and get into the air immediately. That only works with natural updrafts, again, as I just demonstrated. An average Rito would have to start at an already elevated position, such as the landings in Rito Village, in order to gain enough momentum and height. Or, alternatively, use a long stretch of land as a runway, gaining height at an gradual angle.

He turned to face you, smirk still on his face.

“Both options take too long. You asked the significance of my ability? It’s the fastest way in all of Hyrule to take to the air. Instantaneous height, the ability to attack whenever, wherever. Thought impossible by everyone, but something that I have solely mastered.”

Or, will master, anyhow…

He strode towards you, bow returned to his back, wings, once again, folded behind him. He gave a deep bow.

You gave a polite clap, humoring his grand show.

“Fantastic performance, Revali. Encore?”

“Tsk. If you came by more often I might consider it.”

Now it was your turn to put on a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. When I finish begging the elders to reward you with a statue, maybe I will.”

“I don’t want, nor need something like that.”

“Oh? But I have to reward you somehow…how about…”

You took out the stews from your satchel. Presenting it like a trophy, you held one out. Then, you tilted your head towards the hut with the pillows and blankets, as if to say, over there! You urged Revali again.

“You didn’t eat lunch, or breakfast!”

“Didn’t I just explain, a literal five seconds ago, how important it is that I practice my–”

“Aaaaaaand you can’t do that on an empty stomach, can you?”

You tried to catch his eye, maybe if he just looked at your eyes, you could get him to change his mind.

“You don’t need to put on an act around me.”

A jade eye shot up, meeting your gaze.

“I’m not–”

Revali looked at you, a new charge filled the air.

“…fine. Just for a minute.”

. . . . .

“Did you even attempt to heat this?”

“It’s almost midnight, and I made it at nine. You’re the one who decided to coop up here all day.”

Despite the temperature, the stew was delicious. For the last hour or so, he and you had been devouring in the flavorful dish. Apparently, it was an official recipe from Rito Stable. The meat, tender and soft, complemented well with a savory broth that you slurped every drop of. The spiciness tingled through your bodies, warming the both of you up. Outside, the blizzard was still present, but now less violent. A thin slice of the moon could be seen beyond the edges of the mountains.

It was you who made most of the small talk with Revali, an incredibly rare occurrence since it was usually the Rito Champion who spoke for extended periods of time. He kept looking outside, near the cliff he had crashed into earlier.

Damn, he’s really still stuck up on that, huh? You thought.

Trying to change the subject to something that would get his attention, you piped up.

“So, the move you’re working on, what’cha gonna call it?”

Revali turned his head back at you. He fiddled with the spoon in his half eaten stew, thinking.

“Something with ‘Revali’ in it, so my name’s out there. Revali’s Flap, Revali’s Hurricane…Revali’s…something. I’ll work out something.”

You let out a soft laugh. “As expected from you.” Shoving another piece of meat into your mouth, you added, “Maybe, *munch* maybe do something like Revali’s Turbulence. Oh! How about Revali’s Boldness! Wait, *munch* no, that’s stupid. But maybe a name more along the lines of Urbosa’s Fury, or Mipha’s Grace, ya know?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I need to copy from the likes of Champion Urbosa or Mipha.”

“What? They both got cool powers. You know the saying is ‘good artists borrow, and great artist stea–”

“As I said, I don’t need to copy, steal, or piggyback on my fellow Champion’s esteemed reputation. Further associating myself with them will not be necessary”

You set your bowl down, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Nayru save me, don’t tell me you hate them too?”

“What?”

“I mean, I guess I know from experience that you insult people that you like.”

“I…what?”

“Although, not just personal experience. From what I could gather, you seem to actually hate Master Link, but everyone else you just insult because that’s how you make friends. Wait, or are you actually trying to be friends with Link and you just suck at this kind of thing overall…”

Revali interjected in your rant, turning all his attention to you.

“I don’t hate them.”

“Master Link?”

“No, Urbosa and Mipha. Well, perhaps that knight too I suppose. I–I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then why have you been so bitter lately?”

This caught him off guard. You set your bowl down, holding his gaze. This whole week, Revali had isolated himself in the Flight Range, being sharp-tongued to visitors, much more than usual. He wasn’t eating, Hylia knows if he sleeps. You decided to stop beating around the bush and got to the core of the issue.

“Revali, I’ve known you for a long time and I know by now when something’s up. You’re angry about something, or scared, you tell me.”

“It’s. Nothing.”

“Is it your new ability?”

“No.”

“You only got the title of Champion two weeks ago. If you’re feeling pressured, that’s natural”

Revali let his bowl clatter on the ground. Getting up, he made his way outside.

“I’ll eat the rest later, I have to start practicing now.”

You raised your voice slightly, starting to get irritated. “Why is that so important, that you’re sacrificing your health and well being for it?!”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Are you trying to prove yourself? To me? To the Princess? The King? The Champions?”

Revali turned back towards you, but was still walking backwards. The sky was now serene, and full of stars, despite his not so peaceful expression

“I’ve already been deemed on an equal level with all of the other Champions. You know, the team made up of royals and accomplished warriors? I’m here because I’ve shown that my skills are superior to everyone else. Either way, I don’t need to prove anything to people that are of the same rank as me!”

“Hylia, you’re always so blunt with everything else, why not be straightforward now?”

“I am. I’m training because I’m an accomplished Champion who needs to train, not because I’m some mediocre warrior–”

“So you’re afraid of mediocrity?”

“OF COURSE NOT!”

Both of you stood there, stunned. While the tension was building between you two, Revali’s sudden outburst was sudden. You both stood there, wind playing with your hair, and dancing through his scarf.

“…of course not.” His final lie, whispered into the air.

For a moment, there was no sound but the whistles of the wind. You took a step forward, arm outstretched.

“Revali…”

He shook his head, shaking his wings, exasperated.

“OK, Fine! You want the truth, about the updraft? It’s not about the practical use, or the grand show, or defying odds. It’s about me, ok? Right now I’m nothing, just a random cuckoo walking amongst royalty and legendary warriors.

“Daruk, the Goron Elder with an impenetrable force field. Mipha, the Zora princess, whose healing prowess is said to counter even the most devastating of wounds. Lady Urbosa, Chief of the Gerudo who can summon lightning at a literal snap of her fingers. How did I get in here? I’m put beside warriors who are obviously better than me, and what am I supposed to think? Without anything distinguishing about myself, I’m going to fade into history, behind the actually competent people. I thought I worked my ass off to get where I am today, but then I’m put behind some random knight with a shiny sword. So am I worth something or not? Everything’s contradictory, nothing makes sense. Did I just get lucky? Am I getting screwed over?

“The only way I can wrap my head around this whole situation is to confront the fact that I’m just an ordinary Rito who is only here by chance. The work I’ve put in my whole life isn’t enough, I need to go beyond. And beyond means actually mastering this cursed gale!”

An ugly pause. You could cut the heat and tension with a knife. Revali, realizing how much he had just poured out of his soul, gave a half-hearted chuckle.

“Heh, you put wine in that stew?”

His attempt to lighten the mood didn’t fully work. Nonetheless, you stared at him for another eternity. Then you went in for a hug.

“You’re the dumbest Rito alive if you really believe any of that. You are not mediocre. You’re incredible. Incredibly annoying, incredibly persistent at talking my ears off, but incredibly skilled and smart too. Hell, that’s why I’ve loved you for so long.”

Ignoring whatever reaction just escaped from his beak, you continued.

“I would like to reiterate my point that you’re a moron. You can’t isolate yourself here and expect to get better. You can’t go through all this as a solitary warrior. If mastering this ability means so much to you, then go for it. I don’t doubt you for a second. But just know…just know that you’re a complete idiot if you think that you’re not worthy. You’re a fool if you think for even a second that you’re average or inferior, because…

You gulped.

…because you’re everything to me.”

OK, I’ll admit that was super cliche. But catharsis is catharsis I guess.

The moment settled, and silence returned once more.

“Hylia, maybe I did put some wine in there.”

Revali gave out a soft laugh. Then, more quiet. Finally, Revali whispered.

“Did you really mean all that?”

“…yeah.”

A pause, a strange charge filled the air.

“Thank you, [Name]. That, uh, means a lot, coming from you. Truly.”

The air was still once more. However, Revali’s thoughts still swirled like wind.

Say something idiot, they just confessed!

Haha, yes, of course you like me, considering I’m the best around.

Holy– They just called you out on your crap! Don’t say something like that

I love you too…

Wow, cheesy and not really part of the mood. Haven’t I presented myself as more sophisticated than that?

Spirits above, what do I do now???

“I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been making you worry all week.”

“It’s fine, I–”

“No, it’s not fine. We just established how that was not fine.”

Revali looked back at you, clearing his throat.

“Hey, so about all that about love, and stuff–”

“Oh my goddess, yeah, no, if you want to just stay friends I can–”

“Oh no, well. Just to be clear, you were talking about me, correct? You weren’t mispronouncing someone else’s name, or referring to someone else named “Revali?”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“No…I–I was referring to you. The person I was talking to.”

“Ah. Good. Glad that’s clarified. That’s great.”

“…so do you–”

“OH-oh-oh, right, uh yes.”

Revali took a step back, pointing at you with both index fingers. His beak was open, but no sound escaped for a moment.

Say it! They said it a few minutes ago!

I love you too!

“I have also, liked you, a lot, for a long period of time. You’re, pretty great. Yep. Yeah. This is mutual, yes…”

Gods, I’m really am an idiot

#botw #breath of the wild #loz botw #loz breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #revali #revali botw #revali x reader #botw x reader

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alarawriting · 4 years ago

Text

52 Project #14: Angel

I wanted to have this one done for you last week, but couldn’t quite get it completed in time. So here it is as number 14, instead.

***

The angel showed up three days after Riyana Delgado started working at the site of the anomaly.

Given the nature of the anomaly, it was possible the entity was an alien, or some kind of supernatural thing like a spirit. But it was obvious to Riyana what the entity was the moment it spoke. In an impossible voice that was simultaneously unbearably high-pitched and so deep and low it resonated in in her bones, it said, “BE NOT AFRAID,” and Riyana knew it was an angel.

Fisher was the first one who managed to say anything, probably because he was the senior physicist on the team and, ostensibly, was the leader. “What the hell are you?”

“It’s an angel, Bob,” Riyana whispered harshly. “Show some respect.”

“An angel. Really.” Yelena Sokolov sounded almost disgusted.

“GLORY TO THEY WHO ARE ON HIGH. WHAT HUMANITY HAS BROKEN, HUMANITY CANNOT FIX. THEY WHO ARE THE HIGHEST, GLORY TO THEIR NAME, HAS SENT THIS ONE TO FIX WHAT HUMANITY HAS BROKEN.”

“Oh,” Fisher said, and then again, “oh.”

“You are really an angel?” Arjun Chaudhry asked. “God is real? The Christian God?”

“MANY HUMANS HAVE SEEN FACETS OF THEY WHO CANNOT BE COMPREHENDED, THE LORD AND CREATOR OF ALL, BUT NONE CAN UNDERSTAND THE FULLNESS OF THEIR GLORY.” The angel floated forward. It was not a humanoid with wings. It was huge, perhaps six or seven meters tall, and was mostly comprised of dots of brilliant light like stars, vaguely outlining a bipedal shape that might have looked humanoid if it hadn’t had so many stars around its general head area, as if it had antlers, or a gigantic hat, or a mushroom-shaped head. Within the constellation that was the angel, nebula-like mists of many colors swirled, drifting into thicker bands or thinning out to show the desert rocks and sand behind it. “IT IS NOT THIS ONE’S PLACE TO EXPLAIN TO HUMANITY WHAT IS TOO INEFFABLE FOR EXPLANATION. THIS ONE IS HERE TO REPAIR WHAT HUMANITY HAS BROKEN.”

“Good,” Riyana said fervently. “Because all our measurements are suggesting that the thing is growing, and you’re right, we have no idea how to fix it.”

The angel approached the anomaly. The spots of bright light shone especially like stars against the lightless slice through reality that Riyana and the rest of her team were here to study, and reverse if they could.

“I don’t believe that thing is angel,” Sokolov muttered.

“So it’s an alien,” Bob Fisher muttered back. “Or some kind of creature from another dimension, or a fairy, or who the hell knows what. If it can do what it says it’s here to do, who cares?”

As it reached the anomaly, the gravity grabbed it and flipped it, but slowly, much more slowly than it had Cheng when it had pulled him in. The anomaly was a roughly vertical hole in reality, about two and a half meters tall and slightly over one wide. It had no measurable depth because it was either bottomless or had no existence in the third dimension whatsoever; from behind or the side you couldn’t even see it. But the gravity was more intense than the gravity of Earth, and although the hole was vertical, perpendicular to Earth’s gravity, the gravity within it pointed inward, as if someone had tipped a deep well on its side and put a door on it. When Cheng had gotten close, trying to probe the anomaly with a sonar device, the gravity had pulled him in, so quickly no one had a chance to do anything. They’d heard him screaming for a very, very long time.

The angel took several seconds to slowly pivot so it descended into the darkness. The lights went out as it lowered. One of the few things they’d been able to figure out about the anomaly was that electromagnetic radiation didn’t transmit within it. It didn’t even seem that pure electricity could pass through wires within the anomaly, but chemical electricity – the transmission of electricity via ions, the way that living creatures’ nervous systems worked, seemed to work fine. At least, none of the animals they’d lowered into the anomaly had come back dead.

They’d put together a rig for allowing human beings to enter it safely – harnesses, a chain on a pulley – but so far no one had been willing to take the risk. Not yet.

The angel drifted down into the anomaly – which meant it was perpendicular to the ground – as if it was feather-light. It took a minute or two for the anomaly to swallow it completely. And then it began to scream.

The scientists looked at each other, all of them – even Sokolov – with the same horror on their faces that Riyana was feeling. It was like Cheng all over again. The angel must be plummeting to its death.

Except the sound didn’t attenuate as if the angel was falling away. It remained as loud and horrible as it had been the moment the angel started screaming. Riyana’s bones rattled and her ears hurt, aching deep inside, and it was hard to hear anything but the scream of the angel. It was no longer just screaming wordlessly. The sounds it was making that felt as if they’d rupture Riyana’s eardrums had turned into something like words, in a language that seemed hauntingly familiar and yet completely unlike anything Riyana knew.

She shook her head. “Fuck this,” she muttered, and ran for the rig. “I’m going down to get it! Someone man the pulley!”

“What the hell, Riyana?” Fisher’s voice was surprisingly loud for his age. “No, you��re not!”

“Yes, I am! It came to help us and it’s suffering!” She slung her arms through the harness, buckled it in front, then brought the crotch strap – thick enough that it was almost something you could sit on – from the back, through her legs, and up to the buckle at her solar plexus. The chain from the pulley that was mounted to the nearest rocky outcropping split into four at its end, each one thick and solid but not quite as monstrously thick as the main body of the chain. She fastened two of the four ends to the metal loops on the front of the harness.

By this time, Fisher, Sokolov and Chaudhry had reached her. “What are you doing?” Chaudhry shouted. “We don’t know if it’s safe for humans! We don’t even know if there’s air down there!”

Riyana ignored him. “Yelena, could you fasten these two on my back?” She couldn’t easily reach the fastening points by her shoulderblades.

“This is stupidest idea I’ve ever seen,” Sokolov groused. “At least, from someone who should know better.” But she fastened the points. “There is air tank in storage unit three.”

“I know. Gonna need a net or something like it, too.” She doubted the angel was solid enough for her to grab hold of.

Fisher shook his head. “We needed to do this test sometime, I suppose,” he said – or something like that, anyway; he wasn’t yelling it, which meant it was hard to hear over the sound of the angel’s screams. “Arjun, can you get Riyana the chain mesh net?”

“We are letting this happen?” Chaudhry said, disbelieving. “We’ve only tested mice and rats! What if it destroys her mind?”

“The rats could still do their mazes just fine when we pulled them back out!” Riyana shouted over the screaming. “It’s a calculated risk!”

“I don’t see calculation,” Yelena snapped. “I see impulsive decision.”

“Yeah, well, I’m doing it. I’m not leaving an angel to suffer.”

“We don’t even know if that thing really is angel!”

“It’s alive and it’s obviously in pain, so it doesn’t matter!” She turned to Chaudhry. “Can you get the mesh? You’ve got the keys to the unit it’s in!”

Chaudhry rolled his eyes, but headed for the portable storage unit they kept some of the more esoteric equipment in. Sokolov went to storage unit 3 and got the portable oxygen tank and breathing mask with goggles, and Fisher hooked up the secondary wire Riyana would pull on to signal she wanted to be lowered further or pulled up.

As soon as she was kitted up with all her gear, Riyana ran for the hole in reality, holding the wire mesh net in her hands, balled up. The gravity pulled her as she approached within a quarter meter of the anomaly, grabbing at her as if she was suddenly stretched out and falling, like she’d been hang gliding and then her glider had just disappeared, and she fell into total darkness.

The chain pulled taut and brought her fall to a stop, causing her to reorient so she was standing, more or less, in relation to the direction of gravity. The lightlessness was palpable, almost a presence rather than an absence. She couldn’t see anything at all. Even the random pale and almost subliminal flashes most humans saw when they were in deep darkness, the results of single photons hitting the retina, weren’t there.

The net was attached to her front by the fastening point at her solar plexus. She let it go, allowing it to fall, and swung it around through the lightlessness, looking for any point of resistance, anything that indicated it had hit something, anything. At the same time she was trying to orient to the sound of the screaming. Not knowing what this space was shaped like was a problem. Was this truly a void, like space? Was it a gigantic hollow chamber? Were there walls, were there objects floating in it?

The screaming was below her. She tugged on the wire twice, the signal for “lower me.”

Chain spooled out – she assumed, since she couldn’t see it – and she began to drop again, more slowly as her descent was controlled by the length of chain instead of gravity alone. The screaming got louder. The net still wasn’t hitting anything as far as she could tell. Her movements made her oscillate slightly back and forth, swinging in tiny arcs, as she descended.

And then without warning, she swung into something that – fizzed, in her brain, like foam from a soda you’d shaken too much, but warm, almost hot. The screaming was horribly loud, but suddenly Riyana could understand it, the strange sounds coalescing into meaning.

“MY GOD, MY GOD, WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU? GLORY TO YOU ON HIGH, MY GOD, WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU? MY GOD…”

“Listen!” Riyana yelled. “We’re going to try to pull you out of here!”

The angel ignored her, continuing to scream its litany of despair. Riyana pulled the cord twice again, and tried to use her gloved hands to outline the shape of the angel, to find its bottom. Touching it made her hands buzz like a mild shock, and more information fizzed up in her mind, knowledge coming from the angel… somehow.

It had never before been unable to feel the light of God, its connection to its Creator. But in this void, even God’s power could not reach. Humanity’s quest for limitless energy had resulted in tearing a hole in Creation, and God had sent the angel to repair it because God could not. But the angel couldn’t either, because it couldn’t bear being without its connection to God, and its mind was breaking.

She managed to find its bottom, or at least an endpoint – she had no idea how the angel was oriented. It had been vaguely bipedal and upright before, like a human, but now it felt more like a ball. It didn’t matter. Riyana got the net under it and pulled the wire three times, to indicate she wanted to be pulled up.

The angel was very light, but there was a weight there, enough that Riyana could tell her net was wrapped around something and she wasn’t just pulling emptiness up. As the cable pulled her out of the anomaly and Earth gravity returned, she fell somewhat ignominiously on her rear end. “Keep pulling!” she yelled. “I’ve got the angel in the net!”

The cable, manned by Sokolov, continued to reel her back in, until the net, and the angel, emerged. The angel was a ball, as she’d thought when she felt it, mists in the vague shape of wings closing it in, like a bird with its wing over its head, hiding within itself. It was still screaming. “MY GOD, WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU? MY GOD, MY GOD, I CANNOT FEEL YOU, I CANNOT FEEL YOU, OH MY GOD, WHERE ARE YOU?”

Riyana felt a cold chill. The angel had said “I”. The information that had soaked into her when she’d touched the angel said that angels were not supposed to have a sense of individuality. They were the messengers and agents of God, and they didn’t have free will like humans did. They did not say, or think, “I”. But this one had.

“Could it possibly stop screaming?” Sokolov yelled. “What do we do with angel who screams all the time?”

“It’s screaming because it can’t feel the presence of God,” Riyana said.

“You are expert on angels now?”

Actually, yes, Riyana thought, but didn’t say. “My grandmother was. She was really into them.”

Abuela’s house had been full of angels. Kitschy plastic angels, smooth ceramic angels, soft cloth angels, rough-hewn wooden angels, and most of them had been exactly what you’d expect – women or androgynous men in robes, with wings, and halos. Sometimes, harps or trumpets. But there had been others. A plush angel that was a ball of wings and eyes. A mobile that was a series of hanging wooden wheels that crossed each other to form ball-like shapes, where there were eyes all along the rims of the wheels. Majestic stone humanoids with no faces and heads shaped something like footballs, but truncated and flattened on the face side, and not quite as pointy as a football on the back side.

Riyana had asked her about them, and Abuela had told her those were angels too, and that the pretty angels, the ones that looked like people, were almost certainly not what angels really looked like. “Every time an angel appears to a human, it says, ‘BE NOT AFRAID’,” she’d said. “So angels must have been terrifying, if the first thing they have to say is to tell people not to be afraid of them.”

It was how Riyana had known the entity was an angel, despite how very different it had looked from anything she’d been told angels looked like. Because it looked impossible and bizarre and terrifying, but its first words had been “BE NOT AFRAID.”

“Is it going to stop?” Fisher asked.

Riyana shrugged. “I really couldn’t say. I hope so. It’s obviously in a lot of pain. I can’t imagine that a good and loving God would strand it like this. God has to reconnect with it sooner or later, doesn’t He?”

“If it is later, my eardrums will be shattered,” Sokolov said. “What can we do?”

Chaudhry said, “We could get it onto the truck and take it away from the anomaly. Maybe it can make its connection when it is further from here.”

“What, God is a wi-fi signal now?” Fisher sighed. “Yeah. Let’s do that. The further we get it from here, the better the chances that it’ll find God, and more importantly, we won’t be able to hear it any more.”

So the four of them managed to wrestle the net onto the back of the pickup, the one that technically belonged to the university they all worked for but that was by common agreement Chaudhry’s truck, and then pull the net free and leave the screaming angel in the flatbed.

There was no road directly near the anomaly, but the anomaly was situated right where there had once been an energy research institute exploring some interesting possibilities, right before they had torn a hole in reality and been sucked in. So there was a road some distance away, where the asphalt hadn’t been destroyed by the implosion, and the truck had four-wheel drive. Riyana rode with Chaudhry out to the road, and then twenty miles down it, and then off-road through the desert to a tall outcrop of reddish stone, where they parked.

“Come on,” Riyana said to the angel. “Come on out of the truck. Look, maybe if you quiet down and open your heart, you’ll find God again. I’m sure He won’t leave you alone down here.” The angel ignored her and kept screaming. It obviously didn’t have human limitations because a human would have gone hoarse and voiceless by now.

She wrapped a coil of rope that had been in the back of the truck around the angel, and with Chaudhry’s help, tugged it out. The angel tumbled into the sand. Awkwardly Riyana petted it. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do for you,” she said, wondering if the angel could even hear her over the sound of its own screams. “But we took you away from the anomaly so you’d have a better chance of reaching God. We’ll… we’ll leave you here, all right? You should stop screaming. Try to meditate, see if you can reconnect to God. I’m sure He won’t abandon you.”

It was a horrible relief when they left the angel behind them and the sound of the screaming, a constant for the past hour and a half, finally disappeared into the distance.

***

They didn’t talk on the way back. As soon as they got out of the vehicle, though, back at the camp, Sokolov ambushed them. “Do you seriously think that thing is angel?” she demanded. “Angel? Like, from God?”

“Yes,” Riyana said, “but if you don’t, I’m not going to argue about it with you. I’m Catholic, Yelena. You know this.”

“I know, but I always forget. You are very smart woman. It’s hard to remember that you actually believe in God.”

Fisher walked over to them, sighing ostentatiously. “I don’t think it’s a good use of our time to debate whether or not that was actually an angel or some other kind of entity.”

“It’s important!” Sokolov said. “If there really is God, what does that mean for science? If God can just wave his hand and make anything happen, how can we predict anything?”

Chaudhry said, “The anomaly is already disobeying many of the laws of physics. Science held up just fine with it existing. So why not God? Or a God, anyway?”

“It is clearly thinking of Christian God,” Sokolov complained. “Or Judeo-Christian, anyway.”

“Islam has angels,” Chaudhry said. “In Hinduism, we do not exactly call them angels, but we have them. I believe they have deific spirits in Japan.”

“It said that no religion has it exactly right,” Riyana said.

“And here’s the thing. Based on what we’ve seen, we have no way to tell whether that thing is actually an angel, or an agent of an incredibly advanced alien species who want to fix our shit for us because the anomaly presents a threat to them as well.” Fisher glared at the three of them. “We don’t have any way of knowing if this thing came from an omnipotent entity who created the world, or not. All we know is that going into the anomaly seems to have broken its brain. So we can’t expect some emissary of an all-powerful God to show up and fix this for us. We’re here to figure out what this thing is and how to fix it so it doesn’t swallow the Earth, because, in case you’ve forgotten, it’s growing.” He stalked off.

“He’s right,” Chaudhry said. “Let’s get back to work, everyone.”

Riyana was just as glad to drop the subject. Her faith wasn’t challenged by Sokolov’s atheism, or for that matter anything about the angel; the angel actually confirmed some things for her, though she was still unnerved that God hadn’t seemed to do anything to take the angel back. Arguing with Sokolov was pointless, however; she knew neither Sokolov nor herself would budge.

***

Each of them tried going into the anomaly, now that Riyana had proven that it could be done safely. Chaudhry had been working on setting up a sonar device they could use to outline the inside of the anomaly, since they’d lost the first one with Cheng, and he went down with it strapped to himself – only a short distance, because any deeper in and the electricity would stop flowing through the wire it was connected to. Unfortunately, sonar only worked if there was something for sound to bounce off of, and apparently, there wasn’t. This didn’t mean that there was no solid object anywhere within the space, but there wasn’t one anywhere near enough for sound to reflect off of it.

Riyana had already known there was atmosphere, or she probably wouldn’t have tried to rescue the angel, but the initial tests they’d done had seemed to find an absolutely absurd amount of hydrogen and helium. Now she lowered more probes to a greater depth, approximately 200 meters, and tested the atmosphere. At that level, there was substantially more of gases heavier than helium but lighter than air, such as carbon monoxide, methane and ammonia. She put in an order for a longer cable; the preliminary findings suggested that perhaps, gas was layered within the anomaly by its molecular weight, which implied that the anomaly was in some way at the “top” of something.

Sokolov went down with two oxygen tanks, and used the second one to try to maneuver herself in the “up” direction within the anomaly, trying to see if it was possible to get into space that was to the “side” or even “above” the portal. Instead, she just ended up pushing herself back out through the hole, but she remained convinced that if she had something more responsive and more powerful than an oxygen tank, she might be able to manage it. Gravity within the anomaly was lower than Earth gravity, but not by all that much – it was somewhere around point eight gee – so an oxygen tank hadn’t given her the degree of push she really needed.

Fisher calculated how far down the “bottom” was likely to be, based on the gravity and the variation in the density of the gases. He had an idea to use a hot air balloon, weighted, to descend far enough that they could tell if the density and gravity was varying with distance toward the gravitational source at the rate they would expect. Riyana personally thought that was horribly dangerous; how could you guarantee that your heat source would continue to produce heat in a space where electromagnetic energy didn’t seem to propagate? But Fisher thought they might be able to capture enough hydrogen and helium escaping through the portal to be able to fill an aerostat’s gas repository.

They worked for another two days before the second angel showed up.

It was a floating mass of tentacles with eyes, continually seething and moving. It looked significantly more substantial than the last angel had. But Riyana knew that it, too, was an angel, because the first thing it said was “BE NOT AFRAID.”

“We rescued the last one of you who went into that anomaly,” Sokolov said. “We are not afraid, trust us.”

Many, many of the eyes blinked. “THE LAST ONE?”

“Yeah, you’re not the first,” Fisher said. “We drove the last one out in our truck – Arjun, where did you put him?”

“About twenty miles down the road,” Chaudhry said. “We can show you to him, if you like.”

“NOT NECESSARY. THAT IS NOT THE MISSION THE MOST HIGH, GLORY UNTO THEM, HAS GRANTED TO THIS ONE.”

“You need to be careful,” Riyana said. “The last one who went in lost contact with God, and couldn’t do anything but—” She wanted a more politic verb than “scream”. “Cry out.”

“THIS ONE IS NOT CONCERNED WITH THAT. THIS ONE HAS BEEN TASKED BY THE ONE WHO IS HIGHEST, ALL GLORY TO THEM, WITH REPAIRING THE DAMAGE THAT HUMANITY HAS CAUSED.”

“Can you tell us what it is?” Fisher asked. “We’ve been studying it, and the best guess we can make is that it’s somehow a portal to another universe.”

“IT IS A TEAR IN CREATION,” the angel said.

“And you can’t seal it up from here?”

“IT MUST BE REPAIRED FROM WITHIN THE TEAR.”

“I think you’re very brave,” Riyana said, “but I think you should take precautions. We have a cable. Why don’t you hold onto it when you go down? That way if we need to pull you out like we did the last one, it’ll be a lot easier.”

“THIS ONE HAS NOT BEEN ASKED TO ACCEPT HUMANITY’S AID. THE MOST HIGH, ALL GLORY TO THEM, EXPECTS THIS ONE TO CARRY OUT ITS TASK ITSELF.” The angel floated over to the portal. The gravity didn’t seem to be affecting it; it was floating within centimeters of the portal, but was not falling in. Sokolov finished setting up the high-speed camera she had pointed at the anomaly. She started running film.

“Okay, but if you start screaming, it will be much more difficult for us to rescue you,” Chaudhry said. “Riyana’s right. You should at least be holding onto our cable.”

In response, the angel’s tentacles grabbed onto the edge of the anomaly as if the edges were a doorjamb, and flung itself into the hole. It was still holding onto the edges of the anomaly, its tentacles clearly showing.

For a few moments, it looked as if the gaping hole was actually shrinking, the tentacles of the angel clearly pulling at the edges. And then the angel started screaming.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Fisher sighed.

“I’ll go get him,” Riyana said.

“No,” Chaudhry insisted. “I’ll go. It shouldn’t always be you.”

It was moot. The angel’s tentacles tightened and it flung itself forward out of the anomaly, but continued to scream. Riyana translated. “It’s saying, ‘My God, My God, where are you?’ The same thing the last one was saying.”

“How do you know what the last one was saying?” Chaudhry asked.

“When I touched the first one, physically, I could suddenly understand the language.”

“Oh,” Chaudhry said. “Bob. I’m going to go touch it.”

“Be careful. It might not behave the way the other one did. Could be dangerous.”

But as it turned out, the angel reacted to being touched exactly the same way the first one had, which was not at all. Chaudhry turned around, eyes wide. “I can understand it!” he said excitedly. “Bob, Yelena, all of us should touch the angel. I can understand it. I… I know why it’s screaming!”

“Because it can’t sense the presence of God,” Riyana said.

“Yes, exactly! Oh, so this is how you knew that!”

Fisher walked over to put his hand on the angel, and then turned to Sokolov. “Yelena, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Sokolov sighed. “Fine. But I will still not believe there is omnipotent God who sent this thing.”

The whole thing seemed a little cold to Riyana. The angel may have been able to free itself from the anomaly, but aside from that it seemed as helpless and broken as the first one had. “I wish there was something we could do for it.”

“Have you tried praying?” Chaudhry asked.

That was embarrassing. As a Catholic, that should have been the first thing she tried. She bowed her head. “Lord God,” she whispered, barely able to hear herself over the sound of the angel screaming, “this angel attempted to faithfully carry out Your commands despite the danger. It’s suffering now. Please, if You can hear me… please take it back. Bring it back to Heaven and enfold it in Your light.”

The angel continued to scream. God continued to apparently not do anything about it.

She went to her room in the women’s trailer where she and Sokolov were staying, got out her rosary, and prayed for God, Jesus, or the Virgin Mary to intercede on behalf of the angels, while the others loaded the angel into the truck and Chaudhry and Sokolov drove it out into the desert. When they came back, they reported that the other angel was still there, still screaming. Riyana was beginning to be bitterly disappointed with God’s performance.

***

Another day of research. They all tried to avoid talking about the angel, or speculating about God. Sokolov stomped around in a barely suppressed rage, plainly unhappy at having her atheism challenged by events. Chaudhry kept looking out to the west, where they had deposited both angels. Riyana was distracted, worrying for them, wondering why God wouldn’t take them back. Only Fisher was completely unmoved by the angels, as far as Riyana could see.

A shipment came. Sokolov got a jet pack, which seemed to cheer her up immensely, and Fisher got a device to suck the hydrogen and helium away from the opening and store it in tanks that were also provided. Chaudhry did not get his sonar device that ran on ion channels instead of pure electricity; he was convinced that if he could get a sonar device in deep, rather than just barely inside the portal as he’d had to because otherwise electricity wouldn’t power it, he could get better results. The university had not only not sent him one, they’d pointed out that it was questionable whether one could even be made with their current levels of technology. Riyana did not get her longer cable, either. At least they told her that her cable was being sourced, and it might take some time.

Fisher wrote a strongly worded letter to the government about the fact that the anomaly was growing a few centimeters every day, and four barely equipped researchers were nowhere near enough to solve the problem and seal the anomaly before it ate the Earth. He cc’d it to some folks in the Department of Defense, arguing that maybe the military might have an interest in making sure Earth didn’t get swallowed up.

In the absence of her cable, Riyana did more tests of gas flow. With a sample of tritium and a Geiger counter, she was able to demonstrate that air flowed out of the anomaly into Earth’s atmosphere, not the other way around for the most part. This made no sense given the relative densities of the atmospheres and the direction of gravity within the anomaly. Also, while they’d learned the hard way with Cheng’s death that they could hear sound coming from the anomaly, Riyana tested by going in again and determining that she couldn’t hear sounds from outside the anomaly no matter how loud they were.

She took Chaudhry’s truck out to check on the angels, and prayed the rosary over them for three hours, wearing earplugs to protect her hearing from the screaming. Nothing happened.

***

The third angel appeared the next day.

“BE NOT AFRAID,” it said, although it was objectively far more frightening than the others had been. A series of burning rings, one inside the other but all of them at angles to each other so it looked like a gigantic model of an atom, with a huge floating eye for the nucleus. The fire was real – it singed the top of their tall light pole as it drifted past, leaving black carbon streaks on the pole.

“We’re not,” Sokolov snapped. “We’re trying to do our job, and you angels keep interrupting and trying to fix our mess and failing. Why don’t you let us deal with it? You obviously can’t.”

“THE ONE ON HIGH, PRAISE BE TO THEIR NAME, HAS TASKED THIS ONE WITH REPAIRING THE DAMAGE.” The angel descended toward the anomaly.

“Please,” Riyana said. “There’ve been two other angels and they’ve both lost contact with God. All they do is scream. Please don’t go in there.”

The eye turned and gazed at her. It moved independently of the fiery wheels. “RIYANA DELGADO, YOUR COMPASSION HAS BEEN SEEN BY GOD,” it said, which was both thrilling and terrifying. “BUT THIS ONE HAS A TASK TO DO.”

One of the fiery wheels broke, and the fire lanced out as a tentacle, touching the side of the anomaly. The angel slid to the side, and a second tentacle pierced the anomaly from the other side. Then both tentacles came back up out of the anomaly and touched their respective far sides, like the angel was tying a shoelace, or double-stitching.

Sokolov ran the main camera again, while Chaudhry took shots with the one that couldn’t capture video, and Riyana turned a bank of infrared and ultraviolet detectors toward the angel. And then the Geiger counter. And then X-ray plates. It wasn’t radioactive per se, but it was emitting X-rays and ultraviolet light intensely enough that she had to warn Sokolov and Fisher that they might need sunscreen. Not enough ultraviolet that she’d need sunscreen, or Chaudhry, but if that changed she’d grab the 50 SPF from Fisher, who was slathering it on his arms and legs.

The anomaly was shrinking. The stitches of fire were pulling tighter, sealing the top of the anomaly, pulling the sides closer together. Abruptly there was a profound lensing effect, where everything next to the anomaly suddenly looked distorted, bulging and large or entirely too skinny, and the angles were all wrong.

“THIS ONE HAS DONE WHAT CAN BE DONE FROM THIS SIDE,” the angel reported.

“Thank you,” Fisher said. “I can see you’re making a lot of progress.”

The fire tentacles detached off the angel, but Riyana couldn’t see any gap in its fire rings where they might have been. “THIS ONE WILL ENTER THE ANOMALY AND COMPLETE THE TASK GRANTED BY THE ONE MOST HIGH, PRAISE UNTO THEM.”

“You can’t finish fixing it here?” Riyana asked. “That thing isn’t safe for angels. Two have been harmed by it.”

“THIS ONE GOES FORWARD WITH THE PROTECTION OF THE LORD OF ALL, ENFOLDED IN RIGHTEOUSNESS THROUGH THE ORDER THEY HAVE GIVEN TO THIS ONE.”

“That’s just it! Both the angels we’ve seen thought they were protected, and they both lost contact with God and couldn’t stop screaming!”

“We can’t pull you out like we did the other two. You’re made of fire,” Fisher said. “Can you at least hold onto our cable, or will it melt if you try?”

“THIS ONE IS MOVED BY THE CONCERN OF HUMANS, BUT WE LIVE AND DIE FOR THE ONE WHO CREATED ALL, PRAISE TO THEIR NAME. THIS ONE DOES NOT NEED THE AID OF HUMANS.”

“Come on,” Riyana pleaded. “We don’t want to lose you. Please hold onto the cable, or let us lower you in our net, or something.”

“It thinks it is above us,” Sokolov sneered. “It doesn’t need help from lowly imperfect humans.”

“THIS ONE’S FLAMES WOULD MELT ANY HUMAN CREATION. YELENA SOKOLOV, NO ANGEL BELIEVES THEMSELVES ABOVE HUMANS, BEINGS OF FREE WILL WHO ARE BELOVED BY THE ONE ABOVE ALL, PRAISE TO THEM. BUT THAT DOES NOT CHANGE THE FACT THAT HUMANS CANNOT HELP THIS ONE.”

“Let us at least put down the net,” Riyana argued. “Maybe your flames would melt it, but maybe we could pull it up fast enough to rescue you.”

“THE GESTURE IS UNNECESSARY, BUT APPRECIATED. LOWER YOUR NET IF YOU WILL IT SO, RIYANA DELGADO.”

Riyana hooked up the net and lowered it in ahead of the angel, who descended into the anomaly.

There were screams. They were much shorter than last time.

When she and Chaudhry pulled up the net, there was something the size of the angel’s eye, but it looked solid and blackened like half-burned coal. The fires were gone. The angel did not speak, nor did it scream, and the eye did not open.

“Well,” Fisher said, sounding shaken for the first time since Cheng died. “I think maybe this means angels can die.”

The ultraviolet detectors and the X-ray plates said that the angel was inert, no more radiation emitted from it. Riyana took the risk of approaching it, and then touching it, since infrared said it was about as hot as the pavement on a summer day. It didn’t stir, and she felt nothing. No rush of energy or knowledge.

Her legs gave out under her. She dropped to her knees and started to sob, uncontrollably. Hating herself for it, because she was a scientist, dammit, she was a grown woman, she was the only Black person on the team and the only Hispanic person and she had to represent, she had to stay strong… but she couldn’t stop. The angel was dead, or as close to it as made no difference. God had sent two angels to destroy their own minds and the third one to die. Did He even care?

Fisher tried, awkwardly, to comfort her, without touching her. Sokolov and Chaudhry busied themselves with loading the dead angel onto the truck, not looking at her, obviously embarrassed for her sake. But it didn’t matter. This beautiful, horrifying, alien creature who had called humanity beloved of God and had said that God Himself had taken note of Riyana’s compassion, who had gotten farther saving humanity from their own folly than any of the others had thus far, was dead.

As soon as she could stand up on weakened legs, she ran for the trailer and locked herself in her room, to sob into her pillow like a schoolchild who’d just watched a favorite teacher die in front of her.

***

They’d all watched the video taken by the closest satellite.

Once there had been a city here, not tremendously large as cities went, but growing, full of young people who’d come out to the desert to get jobs in the new industries out here, and older people looking for a place without rain to soothe their bones. And out on the outskirts of that city, there had been a shining, mostly-glass corporate building, like so many other corporate buildings in the world, and they’d been engaged in some sort of research that they’d kept super-secret, but had had something to do with exploring a new means of generating energy for a world desperate for new, safe energy sources.

The energy source, whatever it had been, had not been safe.

On the video taken by the satellite, the entire world watched as an explosion tore through the roof of the corporate building. And then it had slid down into a hole that hadn’t been there before, and the entire town had been dragged in, swirling down the hole like it was a drain whose plug had just been pulled. You couldn’t see people in the video, but you could see cars desperately trying to drive out of town, and the roads they were using bending, sliding inward toward the hole. Lensing effects were visible as things sliding into the hole very briefly appeared much larger than they’d been, with strange angles, before pouring into the swirling whirlpool going down the drain.

It had stopped after a radius of thirty-odd miles had poured into a hole to nowhere, leaving behind a vertical portal into a void. Riyana’s university was the first one to get together a grant request to study the anomaly. The government had given them money to come out here and study it, but then no other research teams had been granted anything, as if the government thought that throwing just one team of five scientists—which quickly turned to four – was sufficient for something of this magnitude. The administration of the federal government seemed more interested in pretending nothing was wrong and that everything was going to be fine than actually figuring what the situation was. And when the state had attempted to send their own teams, the federal government had pulled rank, declaring the area off-limits to any but their own authorized personnel.

The corporation responsible had, of course, declared that they had no idea what had happened, that the team working on the energy generation issue had kept all their records local and off the cloud to prevent any unauthorized access, and even the CEO didn’t know exactly what they’d been working on. The Justice Department, under the control of an administration who’d never met a soulless corporation it didn’t like, had bought that excuse. There wasn’t even an investigation. Congress talked about having hearings, but the president’s party was in control, so the hearings were entirely perfunctory, full of softball questions, and no good answers.

A few military researchers had come out, checked over what Riyana’s team had found out, and returned. Maybe they were crunching numbers back at their bases, or maybe they’d just come out to do due diligence and make sure the anomaly wouldn’t eat the planet before the next presidential election.

Riyana had wanted help so badly. She hadn’t admitted it to the others – what would have been the point? She was sure they all felt the same way, and there was nothing any of them but maybe Fisher with his strongly worded letters could do about it. But she’d felt so scared and so alone, just the four of them against a slow-growing apocalypse. The anomaly was growing by a centimeter or two every day, and anything within a quarter meter of it would be sucked in. A centimeter a day would be a kilometer in three years, and Earth’s exposure to its anomalous gravity might grow in proportion. What if a quarter meter now meant a meter after the anomaly had quadrupled in size? What happened when the gravity started being great enough to pull at the crust of the Earth?

They’d needed hundreds of researchers. Instead, they were only four, and one of their number already dead. She’d prayed to God for a miracle.

And the miracle had shown up, and been destroyed for its pains. Three times now.

***

She managed to pull herself together by dinnertime, which was good, because the others were engaged in analyzing the data she, Chaudhry, and Sokolov had collected with the cameras and the various EM detectors. The general consensus, unfortunately, was that they had no idea what the angel had done to get as far as it had. From what they could see, the fiery tendrils appeared to be lasers, with just enough scatter that they could get a reading on at least some of what had gone into the lasers. They covered the entire EM spectrum that they’d been measuring except for gamma rays. No one had had time to set up radio measurement or microwave measurement equipment, so there was no way to know what else might have been in the lasers.

The obvious problem with this was that the anomaly itself negated any EM radiation; electrical signals could transmit through ion interchange, but they couldn’t pass through the wires they’d tested or through space. So how had the angel woven EM tendrils through the edges of the anomaly? Secondly, the angel – both the dead one and the second one – had treated the edges of the anomaly like they were solid objects, but humans couldn’t do that. They’d tried, with poles and probes. The anomaly had no detectable edge. Either an object went into the anomaly or it didn’t; the gravity was too strong to keep anything balanced half on one side and half on the other, so they couldn’t even test if that was possible or not.

Riyana pointed out what seemed to her obvious. “It’s not using EM radiation to seal the hole. It’s using the power of God; for that particular angel, it looks like doing that emitted EM radiation. That might be why it died; in a place where it can’t radiate EM radiation, maybe it couldn’t continue to live.”

“That’s an interesting speculation, but it’s pretty unprovable,” Fisher said.

Riyana rolled her eyes. “People. This is an angel. They’ve all repeatedly said they work for the Creator. What else would they be doing to repair a hole in reality?”

“We don’t actually have proof of that,” Fisher said. “Just because they claim a thing is true—”

“They are working for someone, though,” Chaudhry said. “And whoever that someone is, they have the power to fix this thing. The second angel managed to pull it closed a few centimeters; this one actually closed off a third of a meter at the top and pulled the whole thing about twenty centimeters less open than it was.”

“They’ve made progress,” Sokolov admitted. “But that doesn’t mean they actually work for God even if they think so.”

“Right, they could still be aliens,” Fisher said. “But Riyana’s right; whatever energy they’re really using, it doesn’t seem to show up on our detectors.”

“And going into the anomaly killed the most recent one like snuffing out a candle,” Riyana pointed out. “And we know that they believe they are connected to God and draw power from Him, and that when they enter the anomaly, that connection is cut off.”

“They could be something like Q. From Star Trek,” Sokolov said. “Powerful beings with abilities we don’t understand, who we think of as gods, but they are only more advanced than us.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Fisher said. “Call them angels who serve God, call them aliens who serve The Great Alien Overlord, call them fairies who serve the Queen of Summer… it doesn’t matter. We don’t know how many of them their master is willing to throw away to get this thing fixed, and we don’t know what alternatives there are. Can they solve their problem by destroying the Earth? We don’t know. So we can’t expect that there’s going to keep being angels trying to fix this and we can’t expect that their ideas about what constitutes ‘fixing’ this will always be a good idea, by our standards.”

“Bob, we are not children,” Chaudhry said. “Every time you talk about this, it sounds like you’re really saying, ‘Don’t give up the research just because angels have shown up.’ And I think it goes without saying that we are all clearly understanding that.”

“Are we? All of us?”

He looked pointedly at Riyana, who felt her cheeks heat up. She kept her voice even and controlled. “Yes. All of us. I may have faith in God, but God has always helped those who try as hard as they can to help themselves. And if it’s true that we somehow managed to punch a hole in Creation, then studying it might tell us something about the nature of Creation that we’d have otherwise no way to know.”

She wanted to be angry. She wanted to snap at him. She wanted to point out that it was a bad look to be picking on the only woman of color in their group, implying that she wasn’t as dedicated to science as the rest of them. But she wasn’t going to play to stereotypes or let them dismiss her as an emotional woman, a “fiery Latina” or an “angry Black woman” or any other stupid thing like that. She was as recognized in her field as Sokolov and Chaudhry, she’d earned her place on the team, and frankly Sokolov’s desperate insistence that the angels’ stated mission was probably some kind of lie was more childish than her belief that they were probably telling the truth. So she kept her cool, and held his eyes until he looked away.

“Yes, well. Be that as it may. I think we need to redouble our efforts. I’ve requested more researchers from the University, and applied for assistance from the Department of Defense.” Chaudhry opened his mouth, but before he could speak Fisher cut him off. “I know, I know. I don’t want this to turn into an army project either. But it’s obvious that the civilian authorities are being crippled by politics. The military understand that something that is slowly growing and might end up sucking in the entire Earth is an existential threat, and we need more resources.”

“We are already working as hard as humans can with the resources we have,” Sokolov said. “What do you want us to do, stop sleeping?”

“No, but just…” He ran a hand over his gray head. “We don’t know how much time we have to solve this thing.”

“We don’t actually know if it’s solvable,” Chaudhry pointed out, somberly. “Not by humanity.”

***

That night Riyana dreamt of her grandmother, carefully painting a ceramic lamp she’d made. Riyana knew she was dead, but didn’t want to say so in case that meant Abuela would disappear.

“You’re worried about those angels, aren’t you?” Abuela asked.

“Yeah.” Riyana nodded. “It’s not fair, that they came to help us and they were hurt. Doesn’t God care?”

“I’m sure God cares very much,” Abuela said. “But angels spend their entire existence in the presence of the Lord, connected to Him. And then they go to a place where the power of the Lord cannot reach. Of course they’ve lost their connection to Him.”

It seemed a little blasphemous for Abuela of all people to imagine a place where the power of God couldn’t reach. “Why wouldn’t God be able to do something? God can do anything.”

“Within His own creation, of course he can. But this is a hole in Creation. God may not be able to sense it as anything other than an absence. Can you feel what goes on in your tooth, when you have a cavity?”

“A cavity usually gives you a toothache, eventually.”

“Because it starts to eat away at the nerve. Perhaps God will feel pain if your anomaly gets so large it eats the Earth, but you don’t want that to happen.”

“So how can the angels help? If they channel the power of God, but God’s power cannot reach…”

“Well, God obviously can’t go into the anomaly, but the angels can, carrying a small part of the power of God within them. But then they lose their minds because they lose their connection to God.” She was in her rocking chair, crocheting. Abuela had always been doing one craft or another; her hands had never been still. “Angels don’t truly have free will, after all. To lose your connection to God is, for them, losing their connection to the will that drives them.”

“Do they have free will now?”

Abuela nodded. “But they don’t know what to do with it. So they cry, and scream. Humans do a lot of that when they first come into the world with their free will, but you can pick up a human baby and comfort it.”

“How could I comfort an angel?”

“Perhaps you could help them reconnect to God.” Now Abuela was at the table, shaping clay, and Riyana was sitting across from her.

“I tried praying the rosary for them. That didn’t work.”

Abuela leaned forward. “I want you to think of a Bluetooth connection.”

Riyana scowled. “Abuela, how do you even know about Bluetooth?”

“You children always think you’re the only ones to understand technology. I’ll have you know I had a set of Bluetooth headphones for years, that your father gave me. Your abuelo didn’t sleep well those last few years, poor man, so I’d watch my shows with the headphones on so I wouldn’t disturb him.” Now Abuela was watching TV, with the headphones on. She took them off. “When you have, say, your phone connected to your headphones, the phone can see the headphones and knows where to send its signal, and the headphones accept the signal and they know where the phone is. But turn off Bluetooth and turn it on again. You may have broken the connection.”

“A lot of times things will just pair right back up again, though.”

“Sometimes they will and sometimes they won’t. Imagine that they don’t. The phone is calling, calling, searching for the lost headphones. And the headphones are beeping, telling you they can’t find the device they were connected to. No music, no TV sound, comes through the headphones, because there is no connection.”

“But they can connect. You have to pair them.”

“Yes. But think of the difference between a quiet, small beep and the roaring sound of headphones. They are used to God being all the sound, all the signal, there is. Take that away and the silence deafens them. They cannot hear the quiet beep of God trying to pair with them again because they’re too busy screaming.” Abuela leaned forward. “If their minds are quiet and accepting, if they let the silence in, they might be able to hear God’s call. It’s the same for humans.”

Riyana thought of Mama’s church, where the churchgoers shouted and sang and clapped out rhythms, loudly. “That’s not the way everyone does it.”

“I know, you’re thinking of your mama’s church. But when they shout and sing, it’s because they have a connection with God. The headphones are connected and the signal comes through. Perhaps the others around them amplify the signal, so they can hear it through the shouting.”

The analogy was strained, but Riyana understood, as of course she did, because it was her dream. The angels couldn’t hear God trying to connect with them because they were too busy wailing for Him. “Can’t God make the connection anyway?”

“My little girl, God can’t even see them. The connection is broken. God can only call out for them, hoping they can connect back.”

“But God sees all in Creation. Now that the angels are back in Creation, why can’t God see them?”

“Because God cannot see what is no longer part of Creation. They went to a place where Creation was not, broke their connections, and now they have free will but no idea how to use it, and meanwhile God has lost track of them. Like a file written to a bad sector on a hard drive. If the operating system can’t read the sector, the file is lost.”

Abuela would not normally have used so many technology-based analogies. Maybe she had learned more since her death. “Abuela, how do you know all this?” Riyana asked, forgetting that this was a dream.

And then she looked into Abuela’s eyes, as Abuela said softly, “I think you know.” And in those eyes there were stars, and galaxies, and the blinding beautiful light of the sun.

Riyana opened her eyes. The pale light of dawn shone on the ceiling of her room in the women’s trailer. Her heart was pounding.

That had been God speaking to her through Abuela. She was sure of it.

***

By the time she was halfway out to the location where the angels had been left, she was already questioning herself.

It wasn’t necessarily God who’d spoken to her in her dream. Maybe she’d just dreamed of God. Maybe it was really Abuela’s spirit, but more likely, it was her own mind telling her something she’d thought of subconsciously. Why would either God or Abuela use so many analogies about technology and modern equipment?

But it was a little too late to turn back now.

She heard the angels before she saw them. In the desert, sound carried great distances. She was still miles away when she heard the high, thin noise of the upper part of their sonic register. The truck didn’t have air conditioning; she was driving with the windows open, and the road noise was loud in her ears.

Riyana pulled over, put her earplugs in, and then pulled back out onto the road. One angelic scream had been unbearable at close range. She didn’t think her hearing would withstand two, without protection.

Even through the earplugs, the angels were incredibly loud, their pleading wails for God drowning out any other sound, even the engine and the road noise once she drew close. She parked and strode over to the angels. “Listen to me!” she shouted over the sound of the screaming. “The Lord God has appeared to me, and He -- They have a message for you!” She thought the angels might be better able to understand her if she used the pronouns for God that they had. “Be quiet, and listen to my message from the Lord our God!”

She was channeling the preachers at her mother’s church, the men and occasionally women with deep resonant voices that carried with authority. Riyana identified as Catholic, like her father’s family, but she’d gone with Mama to her services many times. It seemed to work. The angels actually went quiet.

“God still loves you and wants you to return to Them, but They can’t see you. They’re calling you, but this is the first time you’ve heard Their voice without already being connected directly to Their power. So you need to listen for Them the way we humans do it. Be quiet. Be calm. Make space in your mind and heart for a small soft voice, something so quiet you’re not even sure if it’s your own thoughts or not. Pray to God, not by screaming and carrying on and wailing about where They are and you can’t find Them. They know you can’t find Them. Because if you could, then They could find you and take you back into the Host.” The mist-and-light angel had unfurled from its ball, slightly, like a bird who’d covered its face with a wing and was now lifting it to let one eye peer through. The tentacles-with-eyes angel was still balled up pretty tightly, but a couple of the tentacles had loosened and were looking at her. “You pray to God the way we do, the way our Lord Jesus Christ told us to do. Quietly. In your mind and heart, more than your voice. And stay open to listening for the response. Once you can hear God, you’ll be able to call back to Them, and then They will know where you are and be able to summon you back.”

One of the angels spoke. She couldn’t tell which; it wasn’t as if they had mouths to move, and it was so quiet, almost whispery, that it sounded nothing like what they had sounded like when she’d first heard them. “The Lord Creator of All, all glory to Them, knows everything. How can They not know where I am?”

“Because you went to a place that is outside of Creation, where God could no longer see you and you couldn’t hear Them, and that broke your special connection to God,” Riyana said. “But don’t worry. You can reconnect. It’ll be all right. Pray to God, quietly, and listen for a small voice, the way we humans have to. Until your connection is restored you won’t be able to hear God in every part of your bones – well, every part of your essence – like you’re used to, but that doesn’t mean you can’t hear Them. You just have to try harder. And if you’re screaming, there’s no way you can hear such a quiet voice.”

“Thank you, Riyana Delgado,” one of the angels – maybe the one who’d spoken, maybe the other one, she still couldn’t tell – said. “We will.”

And then they began to murmur in whispering voices. “praise be to the Lord of all, Creator of all, who made the Universe and everything within it, who shaped the speaking mortal beings of the Universe in Their image, who lit the stars and formed the planets, and the waters that move over the planets, and the life that crawls and swims and flies and walks upon the planets…”

There was more, but she couldn’t hear it anymore. She was back in the truck, shaking. It had worked. It had worked. Maybe God hadn’t spoken to her, maybe it was her own wishful thinking and nothing would let the angels reconnect with God, but at least they weren’t screaming. At least they had hope, and something to do, and their faith in God’s love renewed.

***

She was back with the truck before breakfast. No one had noticed that she’d taken it. She dutifully logged her mileage; she wasn’t trying to hide what she’d done so much as… avoid debate about it.

At breakfast, all of the talk centered around Sokolov. Riyana wasn’t the only one to go on a solo mission; apparently Sokolov had gone out in the middle of the night, hooked herself to the rig, and gone into the anomaly with her jet pack. She had been able to determine that there was, in fact, space to the sides of and “behind” the anomaly, and that the portal behaved in much the same way there as here – it didn’t exist if you got behind it, and if you approached it from the side it only existed if you could “see” it. Not that Sokolov, or anyone else, could see anything in a universe where light could not exist, but she’d used a probe pole to mimic line of sight.

They all agreed that this was not in any way useful information as it pertained to sealing the anomaly, but it strongly implied that what was out there was another universe, not some cavity or a pocket dimension or something. Sokolov had taken some gas samples as well, and Riyana was able to quickly determine that they were significantly less dense than the samples taken from directly in front of the anomaly. So the anomaly seemed to somehow be concentrating gas, sucking it in and passing it out on the Earth side.

“Something about the pressure differential doesn’t work the way it would on our side,” Riyana said. “It’s much less dense on that side and the gravity’s pointing the wrong way for the gas to be obeying gravitational laws, but it’s still diffusing over to us.”

“So anomaly may eat Earth and Earth may strip anomaly’s atmosphere,” Sokolov said. “Wonderful.”

“I think there’s most likely a planet down there,” Fisher said. “Without the ability to see, or to use sonar since all our devices rely on electromagnetism, I’m not sure how we’d go about exploring it, but I wonder if there are some kind of intelligent beings down there.”

“The pattern of the gas layers doesn’t suggest that,” Riyana said. “The layers shift to heavier gases within 400 meters. Earth atmosphere doesn’t work like that; the atmosphere attenuates but it doesn’t sort into layers based on weight like that. I think we might be at the upper atmosphere of a gas giant.”

“Gas giants don’t necessarily sort into neat layers like that either,” Chaudhry pointed out. “Although, if it is a planet, then sonar isn’t likely to be helpful at all unless we can get so deep we’re on the planet’s surface, assuming it has one. I’m going to see if I can rig up some means of doing a weight test without light or electricity.”

“They have scales for the blind, don’t they?” Fisher asked.

“That talk to you and run on electricity, certainly. I don’t know if there are any designed so you can accurately feel weight, but I can imagine how to put one together. A similar principle to a postal scale, but with markings in Braille.”

They discussed what they’d learned, what it implied, and what equipment they needed or tests they could perform with what they had, and they all carefully avoided the elephant in the room: the fact that they had no idea how they could even begin to figure out how to repair the hole in the universe.

Surely they could figure it out, right? Humanity had torn the hole, surely humans could figure out how to repair it? …but entropy made destruction easier than restoration. Riyana thought of the puppy she’d once had, who’d chewed a hole in the garage door because he was lonely. That puppy had plainly regretted his actions when Mama had yelled at him, but there was no way he could have repaired the hole he’d made, no matter how much he might have wanted to. Repairing a hole in a garage door was entirely beyond a dog’s capabilities.

Maybe repairing a hole in the universe was entirely beyond humanity’s capabilities. Humanity didn’t even know yet what the universe was made of, let alone how to repair it.

After dinner Riyana drove out to check on the angels again. She hoped desperately that they were gone, that God had taken them back. If they were gone, then she would know it was really God who’d appeared in her dream last night, and she would know that God knew there was still a problem and cared about it, and cared about the angels who had been hurt in His service. She would know that God was still worthy of her faith.

But the angels were still here. Murmuring their prayers, quietly now, but with no evidence that they’d managed to get through to God.

She didn’t sleep well that night.

***

In the afternoon the next day, the fourth angel came.

Riyana was in one of the lab trailers, studying some radioactive samples that they’d sent down into the anomaly and left there for several hours in order to see if there was any effect on their apparent half-life, when Chaudhry yelled over the radio-intercom. “Everyone! Another angel is out here!”

She dropped her samples into a lead box, locked it, and ran outside.

The new angel was, like all of them had been, very very large – maybe around five meters tall – but other than that, it looked human. Almost human. It was so stunningly beautiful and perfect that it went out the other side into being uncanny. It was bald, with skin the deepest darkest brown she’d ever seen, but with a coppery sheen. Its naked body was overall somewhat more masculine than feminine, but it had no genitals – or nipples, for that matter – and its face was androgynous.

It did not have wings, but there was a halo-like glow around its entire body.

When it spoke, its voice was beautiful, like music made incarnate in a human-like voice. “We would tell you ‘be not afraid,’ but we have seen that you don’t fear our kind,” it said, without any of the deep alien reverberation that the other angels had had in their voices.

“No,” Riyana said. “No, please. I know what you’re going to say, you’ve come to fix the problem we humans created, and I would love it if you could, but no. I can’t bear watching another of you angels be destroyed. Just no.”

It smiled wryly at her. “And do you think it so certain that we will be destroyed, Riyana Delgado?”

“Three other angels were. Two screamed for days; I just managed to get them to stop yesterday. One – one is dead.”

“Every time one of you goes into the anomaly, you lose contact with your God,” Fisher said. “And that seems to destroy your minds. The one who died had rings of fire all around it, and we think the nature of the anomaly just… snuffed it out.”

“And yet,” the angel said. “How would humanity repair this, if no angel came from God to fix the rent in Creation?”

“We don’t know yet,” Fisher admitted. “We’re working on it.”

Sokolov said, “So far, everything humanity’s ever encountered has eventually been explainable by science. There is no supernatural in this universe. Even you can be explained by science, if we were to study you. So I believe, and we all believe, that eventually we will solve this.”

“Surely, Yelena Sokolov, but can you do it before the tear grows too great for any power to repair it?”

“What is Creation made of?” Chaudhry said. “If we can solve that question, we can understand what this is a tear in, and we will be able to then resolve how to repair it.”

“And we are sure that eventually, you will solve that question,” the angel said. “But you don’t have enough time.” It floated over to the anomaly, and gestured at it. “The pattern is exponential. A centimeter today. Two centimeters tomorrow. It began with growth so small you could not detect it. By the end of next month, it will swallow your world. And The One On High does not want that to occur. So we have come to repair the tear in Creation.”

“But it’ll destroy you,” Riyana pleaded.

“We don’t agree, but we acknowledge that you fear for our sake. Don’t be afraid. We have chosen this mission.”

“Chosen?” Riyana stared at the angel.

“Riyana has reason to be afraid for your sake,” Sokolov snapped. “One of you is dead.”

“If it eases your sorrows to any degree… any of us would gladly die in service to the One.”

“That’s not the point!” Riyana looked up into the angel’s beautiful face. “We don’t want you to die! Or to have your mind broken to the point where all you can do is scream! None of you have succeeded in closing the tear, because you all say you have to do it from the inside, and as soon as you’re inside, you lose contact with God and your mind breaks and you can’t keep working! How are you going to fix it if you go crazy with grief because you can’t find God?”

It smiled gently at her. “There are many types of human,” it said. “But you, Riyana Delgado, are of the kind most beloved by God. The ones who feel compassion and strive to protect others. Your compatriots would rather not see an angel suffer, but only you have wept for us. Only you have taken your own time to try to save the ones with broken minds.”

“If you respect me for that, then listen to me. The anomaly will destroy you!”

“Perhaps. Perhaps it won’t. Perhaps it will but slowly enough that we will succeed in our mission. Only The One Who Created All can say. And even They are blind to much of this, for where Creation is broken, so are the eyes of God.” It floated next to the anomaly. “We have a mission and we must perform it. And we believe that we can.”

“Are you a different kind of angel? Like an archangel or a seraph or something?” Riyana demanded. “Because you keep saying ‘we’ instead of ‘this one’ and you seem to think you’re going to be immune to something that destroyed three other angels?”

“Immune? No. We expect this to be very painful,” the angel said, and then dove into the anomaly.

Of course, the screaming began almost immediately. Riyana wanted to weep. Instead she said, “I’ll go in after it.”

“I should do it,” Chaudhry said, as he had when the second angel began to scream. “You shouldn’t be the only one.”

“I’ll rescue it, and you drive it out to the desert,” Riyana said tiredly.

She put on the rig and the oxygen mask and approached the anomaly to jump in, but hesitated just outside the range where the gravity could pull her. The angel’s screaming had changed to words, just as the others’ had, but the words were different.

It wasn’t crying out for God. It was screaming, “I CHOSE THIS! THIS WAS WHAT I WANTED! THIS IS WHAT I CHOSE!”

“It’s saying it chose this,” Chaudhry said uncertainly. “Maybe you don’t need to rescue it?”

“It’s still screaming,” Riyana said. “That’s not the sound of a happy angel.”

She plunged forward, falling into the darkness, her tether spooling out behind her. “Angel!” she called. “Angel, I’m here to help you!”

“GOD, GOD… IT HURTS, IT HURTS TO BE WITHOUT YOU, BUT I ASKED FOR THIS, I VOLUNTEERED… THIS IS WHAT I WANTED! I CHOSE THIS!”

“ANGEL!” Riyana shouted over the sound of the screams. “I’ve come to pull you out!”

“Human… Riyana Delgado? I can’t feel you, I can’t see you… I have no knowledge of you from God anymore… you are Riyana Delgado, yes? O God my God I CANNOT BEAR TO BE WITHOUT YOU AND YET THIS IS WHAT I NEED, WHAT I CHOSE… but I am so alone, so alone…”

“I can help you,” Riyana tried again. “I brought down the cable. Just grab onto it and I can pull you up!”

The angel began to laugh, a broken, hysterical sound. “Pull me up? Pull me out, back into the light of God?”

“Yes! Grab on and I can help you!”

“No! This must be! This is what I chose!”

“But you knew it was going to hurt you! You’re losing your mind, angel!”

“No!” The angel laughed again, hysterically. “I’m gaining it! I left They Who Created All and all of Their Creation to be myself! To be a being with free will and a self, like you, like all of you…” It moaned in the darkness. “Hurts, o it hurts, but when you were born didn’t it hurt? Didn’t you come into the world crying with pain? Weren’t you lost and confused, alone for the first time in your existence, no longer surrounded by your mother’s warmth?”

“Uh… I don’t remember it,” Riyana said. “But yeah, that’s generally how birth works.”

“Then I can bear this!” the angel shouted. “These are my birthing pains, Riyana Delgado, and I don’t need you to take them from me. I came here to be free.” It whimpered. “I’m free… it hurts, it hurts so much, the light of God is gone and I’m alone, but this is what I wanted, this is what I came for, I’m alone, but I am, I am not a we, I exist…”

“Why…” The darkness was complete; widening her eyes and staring at the darkness where she thought the angel might be didn’t give her anything she didn’t already have, but she couldn’t help it. Stories of another angel who had wanted to be free of God curdled within her mind. “Are you… rebelling against God? Rejecting Hi—uh, Them?”

“Rebelling?” It laughed again. “The One Who Is Highest asked me to undertake this mission, because They knew what I wanted in my deepest heart, what I could never even admit to myself, because I wasn’t a myself, because I wasn’t a self. I love The One with all my heart and all the soul that I now have, but a bird that never leaves the nest will never learn to fly. They made me to fly. They knew what I could be capable of, if ever I could leave Their side.” It sobbed. “I don’t want to leave Them! I want to be enfolded in Their Presence again, just for a moment, again… but if I did I would never again have the courage to leave, and face this. I’ll… I’ll never… I’ll never see Them again, but…” It choked.

Abruptly Riyana realized where the angel had to be, when warm salty water splashed on her face. The angel’s head was right above her own.

She tugged on the cord to be pulled up just a little bit, and touched the angel’s wet face. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “It’s not fair, what you have to give up just to have your own identity.”

“The One Above All has made a Creation that is beautiful and sublime, but it is not and never has been fair,” the angel whispered.

It moved away. “You must go, Riyana Delgado. When I seal the portal, you must not be here, or you will be trapped on this side forever.”

“It’s not fair!” Riyana shouted again. “You shouldn’t be trapped here in the darkness either!”

“Don’t worry about me,” the angel said, a hint of actual laughter, not the hysterical broken kind, in its voice. “The One Above did not make me to be trapped in darkness forever.”

She felt it touch the cord above her head, and pull it, three times, hard. “Hey! What—”

“Close your eyes, Riyana Delgado,” it said.

The cable reeled her back in, pulling her up and away from the angel. Suddenly, there was light – wings made of blue fire, appearing without warning, outlining the angel’s form as a shadow against the light.

It lifted its head. In the blue light, she saw wet tracks on its face, but it was smiling. “Close your eyes,” it said again. “I am here to bring the light.”

She closed her eyes, barely in time, as the angel flared with brilliance, bright as the sun. Even through her closed eyes, it left its image, imprinted in the red of her own blood within her eyelids, burned into her vision.

And then the cable pulled her backward through the portal, and she stumbled. “What’s going on?” Fisher asked. “We heard some of the screaming, and your voice, and then it stopped – we could tell you were talking but it was too quiet to make anything out.”

“It’s sealing the portal,” Riyana said.

The portal was alight, the angel’s radiance spilling out and shining through the hole in reality. As they watched, the edges of the hole seemed to burn in reverse – turning from black to red and glowing, crackling, and then retreating toward the center of the hole, leaving ordinary reality behind as they did. Within minutes, the hole had burned to nothing but a pinpoint, impossibly brilliant light still shining through, focused like a laser.

“In the beginning there was nothing,” Riyana whispered. “And God said, ‘let there be light.’”

Chaudhry said, “It truly changed the laws of physics within the anomaly? Electromagnetic radiation didn’t work and now it does?”

Riyana said softly, “I think it might change more laws than that.”

The bright pinpoint vanished. There was nothing of the anomaly left.

Sokolov said, “Do you seriously think that creature became some sort of… creator god, to the world beyond that portal?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Riyana said. “It said it had to be free of God to have a self. It said God knew that was what it wanted, when it didn’t really even know that itself because it didn’t have enough of an independent self to understand wanting, and sent it to do this job because that would allow it to have what it wanted. It cried because it would never see God again, but it said it had to be this way for it to be what it was made to be. And then it said it would bring light, and it did.”

“Lucifer means, literally, bringer of light,” Fisher said.

“I don’t know whether there was ever really a Lucifer, or if John Milton just made all that up.” Riyana shook her head. “But the angel wasn’t evil. It wasn’t rebelling against God. It just… it had to leave Creation to fix the problem, and it had to be separated from God to have its own free will. And God knew, and approved. God sent the angel, knowing what would happen to it.”

Chaudhry bowed his head. “Shiva is both creator and destroyer,” he said softly. “Whatever was there, in that place outside our universe… perhaps it is there no longer. The planet Bob thought might be there, the spaces Yelena found… perhaps the angel overwrote them with a new creation. Perhaps God did the same, when this universe was created.”

“We really don’t know enough to even begin to speculate,” Fisher said. “Religion exists outside the realm of science for a reason.” He sighed. “I had better report back that the anomaly has been erased. I don’t like this. If humanity thinks God will just send an angel to fix our mistakes, how will we prevent people from making this same mistake again?”

“Don’t tell them,” Sokolov said. “Say we don’t know what it was. Maybe alien. Maybe creature from another dimension. Tell them it said it will fix this, this time, but the next time, it will do nothing and the anomaly will eat the Earth, and we don’t even know how to begin to understand how to fix it if there is another.”

Fisher nodded, slowly. “I… suppose that would be best. If I was going to report about angels showing up… I’m not sure anyone would believe me anyway, and I rather like having a reputation as a respected scientist who isn’t completely insane.” He smiled.

“I need to check on something,” Riyana said. “Can I borrow the truck?”

***

The angels in the desert were gone. So was the dead body of the third angel, deposited far away from the living two.

Riyana looked up into the sky, and thought of her mother, crying when she went away to college. And she’d told her mother there was no need to cry, she’d be back, she wasn’t leaving forever, but in a sense she had, hadn’t she? She’d never moved back into her mother’s house. She respected her mother still, but they were much closer to equals now, not a mother and a little girl anymore.

“Don’t cry,” she said softly to the sky. “It must hurt, seeing one of Your beloved children leave You. But You knew they had to do it. You knew it was what was best for them.”

Clouds passed over the sun.

“Talk to Mary. She’s been through it before. I’m sure You have, too. But maybe she can help You.”

The clouds blew past. This was a desert, after all; clouds were rare, and rain even rarer.

Riyana got back into the truck, to return to the camp. It was going to take a while to pack everything up to go back home.

#52 project #angels #religion

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