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sarawritestories · 7 months

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Unwavering Presence Chapter 7

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Rhys and Reader get into an argument that leads to a moment Under the mountain that Y/N would rather forget. And when things don't go as planned at the prison, Y/N must confront her sister after learning just how much Feyre was suffering.

Content Warnings: our FMC being put on a leash (Literally), mentions of abuse potential abuse to children (there is none! just the idea is brought up) , mentions of suicidal ideation, Nightmares, angst

Word Count: 6.5K

Masterlist Chapter 6

Unwavering Masterlist

After finishing the awkward dinner, I made my way to my room and changed out of my dress and put on my silk pajamas sighing at the comfort. Cassian had walked me to my room in silence though his pinky was still entwined in mine and when he dropped me off, he murmured a good night and kissed my hand before heading to bed. His lips against my skin, caused heat to rise in my cheeks and I found myself quickly hiding in my room trying to settle the butterflies in my stomach.

I walked over to my desk and grabbed my journal from my cloak pocket, ever since Cassian bought it, it has been on my person I never leave it. I took a seat and was about ready to write when there was a knock on my door, “Come in.” Rhys walked in.

He leaned against the door, crossing his arms and his ankles leaning against the dark ornate wood. “Did you have to be so hard on her?”

I closed my notebook and let my fingers graze the leather the indents of the ivy engraved in the leather, and finally meeting is eyes, “She’s acting like a child.” She crossed her arms, “She was also extremely rude, and you and your family didn’t deserve that.”

Rhys smirked, and tilted his head, “You know we have been around a long time we can handle ourselves.”

I shrugged and crossed my legs on the bench. “Just because you can doesn’t mean that a friend can’t come to your defense.” I bit my lip, “Even when she feels guilty of her previous behavior to you and is super apologetic.”

Rhys crinkled his nose and made his face so youthful, something I noticed I didn’t see much under the mountain, and I giggled, and confusion fell over the high lord’s features, “What?”

My giggles softened and I gave him a smile, “I enjoy seeing you outside Amarantha.” I could see him physically restrain himself from wincing at her name, but I continued as I stood and made my way to him, “You look so free. Youthful even.”

Rhys smiled, “Well aren’t you sweet,” He opened his arm and I slid into his side as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders pulling me close. “Feyre and I are heading to the prison tomorrow.” I must have had a confused look on my face because he continued, “The prison is where we keep some of the most ancient and vile fae and magical beings. Under a mountain at the edge of Night Court border.”

I meet his violet eyes, “Rhysand, you’re taking her under another mountain.” His lips were a tight line. “What is in there that is so important?”

Rhys remained silent for a moment, “I wouldn’t ask her if I didn’t think the answer, we could find there were important.” Rhys eyes hardened, “The information wouldn’t tip the scales in our favor for the impending war.”

I scooted out of his grasp and his gaze softened. “Why Feyre?”

“The inmate we would be seeing won’t talk to me, but will talk to Feyre Cursebreaker, that I have no doubt about.”

I Internally cringed at the title, tampering that unprecedented jealousy, the title proved she was important in Prythian’s history. Further proved that I was not. Clearing my throat I asked, “She’s okay with it?”

He nodded, “You are an important part of our history too you know?”

I stood up and turned my back to him checking and grumbled, “Get out of my head, High Lord.”

“Your shields are solid, Angel, you wear your heart on your sleeve.” I turned and scowled at him which only caused him to chuckle, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Feyre may have broken the curse, but no one in that ballroom will easily forget about the human girl who stood in front of those two Fae children and took their punishment for them.”

My heart stopped as the sound of fabric ripping echoed the cavern hall. Amarantha with lethal calm turned to see two small fae girls frozen in place with fear. Their hands clasped together. Terror exploded on their features. Amarantha’s smile was sinister, as she steps down from the dais, “What did you two do?” My gaze drifts to my sister who is on Rhysand’s lap head laying on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her shoulders as her eyes drift close, probably the effects of the fae wine taking hold of her as Rhysand sipped from his own cup. He had since given up forcing me to drink it after I spit it out on his shoes. Though Feyre doesn’t remember

Turning back to the young girls as Amarantha was waiting for them to answer the two simply trembled in response a puddle was forming under one of them and my heart broke. The longer the two girls remained silent the irater Amarantha became “You two ingrates ruined my dress! You should haven’t been that close to royalty. Clearly your useless parents didn’t teach you respect. So, allow me.”

Her hand raised up and my feet moved before I could think about what I was doing and suddenly I pulled the girls behind me before Amarantha’s hand collided with my cheek. The girls screamed but I turned to them, “It’s okay. Go find your mother. Wipe your tears and hold your head high.” The girls both did and lifted their chin as they briskly walked to their mother, and I turned to the seething fae female before me.

“You had no right-“

I interrupted her my chin high, “They are children. What they did was an accident. If a punishment must be implemented, I will take it in their place.”

Amarantha eyes flared her stare made me shift the sheer red fabric that shifts to orange at the bottom covering very little of my body moved with my fidgeting. Her eyes then moved to find those two girls, she found them cowering in the arms of their mother, “The cauldron has blessed you both. You should be grateful.” She takes a step forward and her finger touches one end of my collar bone and slides to the other side smearing the paint Rhys’ wraiths painted on me. “Y/N Archeron, twin sister of Feyre.” She circles me like predator waiting for the kill. She stands behind me, her nail grazing the fabric on my shoulder, I fought off a shutter as she faced me again, “You’re a pretty little thing, for human filth. Bold too. Interrupting me not only during my punishment but as I was speaking too.” She tsks as the hand that provided false gentleness collided with my cheek once more her nails scraping skin. She gripped my chin and forced me to look at her, “A foolish human girl, who risked her life for two fae children. What a silly thing to do.”

“Children human or otherwise-“

Faster than a blink a piece of Amarantha’s dress was torn from the dress and shoved into my mouth she worked on getting another stripped around my wrist. “I grow tired of you speaking, girl.” She cinches the fabric against my wrist tightly causing me to shriek in pain. She turned me to face her again and she smiled, “Much better. "Now the question is, what to do for your punishment?”

I tested my binds, and she pressed me to your back. “Hmm I think your punishment will be someone else’s reward.” She looked out into the crowd and I allowed myself to look at Rhysand and my sister. The High Lord’s face revealed nothing but there was a prickle in my mind and his voice filtered in my head,

Breathe. I’m sorry Y/N, I cannot help you.

In the hopes he could hear me, those girls didn’t deserve to see the cruelties of this world just yet. Try to keep their innocence.

To my surprised he gave a curt nod before he drank the rest of his wine and Amarantha’s voice bellowed through the hall, “Eris Vanserra, please step forward.”

I looked out for Lucien and saw his face frown as his eldest brother stepped forward. The male was handsome his tan skin and gold eyes were warm but hardened. Amarantha pushed me forward and I whimpered muffled through the gag as she forced me to my knees, and she gripped the back of my head pressing down until my forehead hit the floor. “Stay there, Pet. Until he tells you otherwise, “her slim hands left my body as she spoke to the eldest brother, “You have done exceptional work, and it has not gone unnoticed. There was a long pause, “As a treat, one of the Archeron twins to use however, you please. You can deposit her in her cell in the morning.”

“Thank you, My Queen. Your gift is beyond gracious. I am truly humbled.” My heartrate spiked, and I tried to shift pain racking in my knees.

Breathe. Through your nose. Rhys’ voice instructed and I followed his instruction.

A calloused hand hoisted me up to my feet and I looked up to find Eris smirking at me. “I don’t think the gag is necessary don’t you.” I nodded, “Open, Love.” I opened my mouth, and he removed the fabric from my mouth. I coughed, and he tipped my chin up to face him, and he gave me a cold smile as his toned arm wrapped around my waist, undoing the binds, “I don’t think you need this either. and pulled me close, his breath warm on my ear. The smell of an autumn day filled my nostrils. He whispered low enough that no one could hear, "Y/N Archeron, let’s give them a good performance. Keep your face neutral and do everything I say."

He gripped me tightly, and a gasp escaped my lips as my chest was flushed to his, his lips kissed my ear, “We must make it believable, Love. Say ‘Yes Master’ if you understand.”

“Yes Master.”

He growled in my ear his hand gripped my skin tightly, “Good Girl,” He slapped the bare area of my ass causing me to yelp. He waves his hand and flames circled around my neck, the end of the flame in Eris hands. “Let us do a lap, pet and then we go to bed.” He yanked my leash pulling me closer to him, “Let’s start with thanking the High Lord of the Night Court for dressing you in Autumn Colors.” He looked at me expectantly.

I take in a deep breath, “Yes Master.”

He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, “Good Girl.”

Rhysand snapped his finger in my face. Worry written on his features stars were banked out. “What did he do to you, Angel?”

I feign ignorance, “Who?”

Rhys gave me a knowing look, “You know who. Don’t play dumb.”

I rolled my eyes, “Nothing happened worth talking about.”

Rhys growled anger morphing into his face, “I saw his intentions, If he touch-“

I rubbed my temples and groaned, “Fuck No.” I looked at him anger boiling, “I don’t talk about it because he asked me not to.”

Rhys blinked taken aback, “Why protect him?” he crossed his arms.

I gritted my teeth, “Stop pushing.” I walked over to my door and opened it, “Take care of my sister tomorrow. Good night.”

Rhys sighs as he stood and walked over to me. He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just saying you were just as brave and just as much a victim there as Feyre. Talking about it could be helpful.”

I gave him a hard stare, “I know, Rhys. I appreciate you keeping that door open. I do. You don’t know what happened that night. But trust me when I say that nothing happened that night that I mean it.”

Rhys clenched his fist, “Eris is a monster.”

I bite my lip, “Well, people could and have said the same about you. Yet I trusted you. Good night, Rhysand.” I slammed the door before he could get another word in and locked the door.

I couldn’t sleep that night; I kept tossing and turning. Flashes of Under the Mountain and Amarantha, The wyrm, and those girls, forcing their way into my dreams that I began to sweat. I pulled off my covers and wandered to the family library.

I rubbed my eyes as I walked in and found Cassian sitting in the chair, a glass in his hand staring at the fire. He was wearing black silk lounge pants and a lounge shirt that hugged his taught muscles his wings relaxed but sprawled slightly, his ebony locks up in a bun. I tried to back away before he could catch me, “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” I sighed as his warm eyes met mine, he patted the chair next to him, “Come on, Princess, talk to me.”

I dragged my feet over there and plopped on a chair, “Rhys and I got into an argument.”

Cassian nodded and handed me a glass. I took it and tried to ignore the feeling in my chest when our fingers touched. “Want to talk about it?”

I took a sip letting the burn of alcohol ease down my throat and looked at the fire. “Something that happened when we were Under the Mountain. I don’t want to go into details. He just assumes one thing happened and when it didn’t.”

His hummed, “Would it be about what happened when you saved those girls?”

I turned my head to him, “You know about that?”

Cassian gave me a warm smile, “Sweetheart, a human girl put her life on the line to save to fae children from getting harmed. Rhys may have told me when he got home, because he had never met anyone, a human no less, defend a child while being under there. But when the curse was lifted, everyone brought up about your bravery.”

I bit my lip, “It was an accident they didn’t deserve whatever cruel punishment Amarantha was going to endure. Anyone would have done that.”

Calloused fingers moved my face to meet his eyes slight ire there, “No, Princess, they wouldn’t. They should but they wouldn’t. Especially if that meant you were Eris’ pet for the evening.”

I groaned pulling away from his touch and taking my drink, slamming the rest of the contents in my mouth. “Not you too.”

“He’s dangerous from what Rhys said he had you in a collar on a leash.”

I gritted my teeth, “Drop it, Cassian.”

He sighed, “It wouldn’t be the first time he did something heinous, have you talked to Mor about this?”

“No and I wasn’t planning on it.”

“You should than you would understand Rhys’ concern-“

I stood up, slamming the glass on the table, “He took me to his room, gave me his jacket to wear, and let me sleep on his bed while he slept in the chair. Is that what you want to hear? Because that’s what fucking happened, Cassian. He didn’t hurt me; he didn’t touch me past having a hand on my back. He let me have a good night’s rest. That’s. it.”

Cassian blinked, “The collar. The leash made of fire; Rhys said you had burns.”

“Amarantha had expectations, we met them.” I crossed my arms. “I’m not saying he’s perfect or not a piece of shit. I’m saying that on that evening specifically, he didn’t do a damn thing to me.”

Cassian’s brow furrowed and his lips formed a tight line, contemplating. “Fine, so he didn’t hurt you or force you to do anything why not tell Rhys that?”

“Because Eris asked me not to tell anyone what happened that night and I wanted to honor that not because I wanted to protect him but because I owed him. And given the look you’re giving me. I don’t think he would believe me either.” I bowed my head, “Goodnight, General.”

I turned only for a hand to circle my wrist, “I believe you, Princess.” I faced him, he rose from is seat and his face held no trace of humor, his form towering over me. “I believe you, and he would to, but I know there is more you’re not telling me.”

“I am.” I didn’t bother hiding it. “But anything past what I already told you is not my story to tell. I hope you can respect that I won’t share it.”

Cassian nodded, “I understand.”

I took my free hand into his, “Why are you awake?”

Cassian sat back down and smirked, “What keeps anyone from sleeping, Princess?”

I blinked surprised by the question I asked when we first met, “Nightmares...”

I released his hand and noticed he flexed his fingers like he yearned for my touch as I sat on the chair across from him. “Yeah, I don’t get them often, but when I do, they’re…realistic enough to keep me awake.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, his face looked haunted.

“No.” He gave me a small smile, “But thank you for the offer, you should try to go to sleep.”

“You should as well.”

“I’m going to have a hard time falling asleep.” He retorted.

“Me too.”

He chuckled and I stood and held out my hand. “Come on, General.”

Cassian placed his hand in mine and tugged indicating I wanted him up, he stood, his wings rustling. I led him over to the couch and sat patting my lap. “Sweetheart, I would squish you if I sat on your lap.”

“Is it a requirement that to be in this court you have to be a smart ass? I want you to lay your head on my lap, Darling.” His stunned look told me no one has ever given him a pet name before, but he slowly sits and adjusts his wings in a position that is comfortable but won’t hurt me and finally he lays his head down on my lap. His eyes look up to mine and I smile as I pull the tie that is keeping his hair bound.

“What are you doing?”

I smiled, as thoughts from the week before coming to my mind, “I know when I’m not going to win a battle, General.” I wink at him, “I’m compromising.” His eyes twinkle in recognition of my words. He turns his head as I begin running my fingers through his hair he sighs in contentment. “Close your eyes, Cassian.” I watched his lids flutter shut and his breathing deepening as I kept weaving my fingers through his hair and I started to hum a lullaby and in seconds the General was asleep on my lap, and I leaned my head back as the smell of him calmed me and my eyes grew heavy and with my hand through his hair. I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Cassian’s POV

I woke up to the sun illuminating behind my eye lids. Though I realized I’m not in my room but the library. The memory of the night before came back to me. I shifted to find Y/N sleeping, her head leaning against the bookshelf. I gently sat up careful not to disturb her, but she stirred as I moved into a seated position. Her eyes lit up by the morning sky coming in from the window. Even as she woke, she was radiant like a gift from the mother herself. “Good morning, did you sleep well?” She mumbled as she tried to blink away the sleepiness from her eyes.

I smiled, “Yeah, Princess, did you? I’m sorry you fell asleep sitting up.”

She waved me off as she took the hair bind, I used to tie my hair and placed her hair in a bun few strands framing her face. Beautiful. “I have had to sleep in worse conditions than this. I just wanted to make sure you got sleep.” Another yawn from her. I stood up and stretched my sore wings.

I grinned at her, and she gave me a lazy smile back, “Thank you, Princess,” I held out my hand to her, “Let’s get you some breakfast,” she slipped her hand in mine, and it was dwarfed in mine and had tiny callouses from hunting, fighting, and training. I help her up and I go to release her hand, but she keeps a hold of mine as we exit the library and head toward the dining room. “Sweetheart, don’t you want to get dressed?”

“No, I want to eat.” She paused and looked at our hands and let go missing her warmth in my palm in an instant, “I’m sorry if you want to-“

I held my hand up, “Not at all, lead the way, Archeron.”

There was a glint in her eyes and her smile was mischievous, “Last one to the dining room has to do 50 pushups at training today.” Before I can respond to her challenge she bolts. I chuckled and waited about a minute before I chased after her. It only took me a couple of strides to catch up with her and past her, “No!” She huffed as I reached the double doors, opening for me and skidded to a halt barely winded as Y/N got there and placed her hands on her knees trying to catch her breath. “Stupid fae speed.”

I laughed and ruffled her hair, and she swatted at me, “Maybe next time I will let you win. However, you owe me 50 pushups.” She groaned, and I placed a hand on her back and led her to the chair where food appeared on her chair. Only then acknowledging the short black haired fae who quirked her brow. “Morning, Tiny one.” Amren glared at me, and I grinned, “She challenged me to a race and lost.” I explained.

Amren snorted sipping her goblet, “Girl, if you are going to survive here, you have to pick and choose your battles properly.”

Y/N stabbed my eggs, “I thought I had a chance.”

Before I could counter Rhys and Feyre winnowed in, Feyre stormed out of the dining room ignoring everyone including her sister. I could see the pain in Y/N’s face as she looked over to my brother. “We need to talk, Y/N.” His face was stony, and I could see the light dim in Y/N’s eyes as she shrunk in her seat.

Rhysand walked over to her and held out his arm. Y/N pushed the plate away, not being able to get a bite and making a note to make sure she ate before we trained. She stood and walked past him ignoring his arm and heading out into the hall.

Rhysand.

My brother paused as I sent my thoughts to his mind. What?

Apologize to her, she told me what happened with Eris. He let her sleep and get a good’s night sleep. That’s it.

You believe her?

I growled at him, Yes. As should you. She has never given you a reason not to believe her.

Rhys gave a nod still not facing me as he walked from the room. Before leaving completely he whispered in my mind She might need you in a few minutes.

I looked to Amren to find her looking at me with her scrutinizing gaze. “What?”

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked her as she took another sip of her goblet.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” She looked at the door that Rhys and Y/N walked through, “She’s a force even for a mere human. Willing to stand up to her own blood for Fae she doesn’t know well.”

I smiled, “She’s got a warrior’s heart. Someone just needs to remind her that she doesn’t need to take care of everyone else, that she should take care of herself.”

“Hmm someone like the General of the Night Court’s armies?” Amren questioned her red lips quirked up a bit.

I took a bite of my food, ignoring her inquiry, “Mind your business.”

Reader POV

Rhys walked out of the dining room after having a conversation with Cassian and Amren. My mood had quickly shifted with Feyre looking upset and the hard look Rhys gave me after our argument last night. “Follow me.” He led us up to his study, I shut the door behind me and leaned against the door as he sat in the chair behind his desk.

The room had various paintings of maps of not only Prythian but constellations of the night sky, and on a desk flushed against the wall was a model with all the planets. “Please make yourself comfortable.” His voice was formal not teasing like he was the day before. I didn’t move, He looked up and my feelings of his behavior changed must have been apparent on my face as Rhys sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. “I owe you an apology.” I bit my lip and looked at my feet. “I should have dropped the Eris subject last night when you asked.”

I looked at him a steeliness in my tone, “Yes you should have.” He flinched, I walked toward him and sat across from him holding out my hand. “Let me show you.”

Rhys shook his head, “Y/N you don-“

“Rhys just shut up and do it.” He nodded and took my hand and I let him into my mind and showed him Eris giving me his tunic, him tucking me into bed, and him sitting on the chair, eyes watching me as I fell asleep. I broke off the connection. “I wouldn’t lie, Rhys.”

Rhys nodded, “I know, which is why I want to apologize.” He walked around the desk and knelt in front of me. “I’m sorry for pushing. I’m sorry for not believing you. I will spend so many days being sorry so long as you stop looking at me like I am stranger and just your High Lord and not your friend.”

I gave him a smile and I wrapped my arms around him, “All is forgiven, unless you did something to make Feyre so upset. Then I’m kicking your ass.”

He laughed, but his face grew solemn, “Y/N, she needs you.” My forehead creased, “She never went into the prison today she got scared, that wasn’t her fault, but Y/N, I need you to understand just how not well she’s doing.”

I meet his violet eyes his stars gone, “Show me.”

Rhys gripped the back of my neck and pressed his forehead to mind as I let him in and flashes of her throwing up the night before from the nightmares Her screams echoing the halls, Rhys comforting her. He flashes me to the week I hid myself after she accused me of abandoning her and she tells Rhys how nice it would feel to die, and I felt my chest tighten. Rhysand immediately talking her out of that headspace. Her gaunt haunted face through Rhysand’s eyes.

His claws released my mind, but Rhys held me close as tears and panic rose through me. “Y/N, it’s not your fault.”

“She wants to die. How did I not feel that? How did I miss it? I’m a terrible sister.” My voice barely above a whisper as the images whirl around my brain a never ending loop of Feyre’s pain.

Rhys grips my neck tightly, “Stop it.” I met his gaze as he pulls his face away from mine, “Stop beating yourself up. You didn’t know.”

“BUT I SHOULD HAVE!” I erupted causing Rhys to jump back, “I was so mad! I couldn’t even look at her only to find out she has been hating herself.” I stood and began to pace, “I promised my mom that I would take care of her. But I let her go out into the forest only going out with her scarcely, I let Tamlin sink his teeth into her with his sweet words, and soft touches. I let her think I abandoned her.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, please calm down.” Rhys tried to grab my shoulder and I shook him off.

My breathing became short and erratic, “What if she would have taken her life when Tamlin kicked me out of his court. What if she did it and I never apologized.” I rubbed my hand on my chest, “It would have been my fault. Oh gods.” Breathing became difficult and my hearing muffled I didn’t even notice the door open. Strong arms wrapped around me and flushed up against a strong toned chest the smell of leather and sandalwood surrounded me. I leaned my head back as tears flowed freely.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” Cassian whispered in my ear, he pressed his lips to the top of my ear. He led me to the couch to sit and he lightly bended my head in between my knees. “Inhale,” he commanded his voice not that of a general, but I couldn’t place the gentle yet firm tone in it, and I take a breath, “hold it,” I did for a moment, “Exhale slowly,” He exhaled with me his hand rubbing circles around my back. “That’s my girl, again,” He guided me through some deep breaths, and I began to calm down. I slowly sat up and I met his Hazel eyes his hand continued to rub my back, “Hi.”

“Hi.” I whispered.

“You okay?” I nodded and gripped my chin, “I need you to say it, baby.”

“I’m okay.” I murmured, I leaned my head on his shoulder, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. We’re not training today.” I tried to protest but before I could open my mouth he said, “Don’t fight with me. You need to take it easy, and by the sounds of it you need to have a talk with your sister.”

I lifted my head, “Okay.” I looked at Rhys, “I’m sor-“

Rhys growled, “Do not apologize for letting your feelings out.” He kissed the top of my head, “You’re scared for your sister and want to take her pain away. I understand. I had a feeling this might happen due to how much you love her. But don’t apologize for feeling these feelings, okay?”

I sniffled, Cassian’s hand grounding me, “Even if I was a contributing factor to her pain.”

“She doesn’t see it that way. When we were outside the prison, she wished you were there. That doesn’t sound like someone who is contributing to her pain.” Rhys said. “Stay here for as long as you need.” Rhys walked away and shut the door the soft clicking felt loud against my ears.

“You don’t need to stay here, Cass,” I said as I straightened my back.

He laughed, “I’m not going anywhere, unless you ask me to. Would you like me to leave?” I bit my lip debating being honest and eventually I just shook my head. “Then I stay.” And we sat like that for a few hours with him rubbing soothingly on my back as my forehead leaned against his shoulder.

When I was finally calm, I parted ways with Cassian, kissing him on the cheek in thanks for once again taking care of me. I could have sworn I saw him blush as he turned and left for his room, but he was gone before I could assess further.

***

Then I changed and found myself outside Feyre’s door, my hand hovering over the wooden panel to knock. Before I could I just hear her go, “Come in, Y/N,”

I opened her door to find scribbling on parchment. I walked in closer and noticed she wasn’t scribbling, she was drawing. Which means she was itching to paint again. She smiled, “I could hear your heartbeat skyrocket in front of my door.

I swallowed the lump down my throat as she put her sketch to the side and faced me.

“I’m sorry.” We both said at the same time we both blinked at each other before we began to laugh.

She got up and pulled me in a bone crushing hug that I returned. “I shouldn’t have blamed you for leaving. I know you wouldn’t have gone willingly. I was just so relieved, hurt and scared that when I saw you I just.”

“Let your inner Nesta out and said things you knew would hurt.” She nodded as she sat back on the bed dragging me with her. “I get it Fey, and I need to apologize to you for my outburst yesterday. I may have been out of line.”

Feyre shook her head, “You weren’t. I was being unfair to them. I meant what I said though.” I frowned, “You seem happier here. Less on edge.”

I nodded my head in agreement, “I am happy.” I smiled and squeezed her hand, “You could be happy here too. They are good Fae either way they are kind, and generous and I think we could fit right in. If you’re open.”

She gave me a small tentative smile, “I can see myself getting to place here. Rhys is not what I expected. He is kind, patient, and sweet.”

I smirked and looked at my nail, “Handsome, charming, alluring,” Feyre shoved me playfully, as I felt what must have been the equivalent to laughter down our bond.

“I mean he is all those things too, but I should have listened to you when you told me to give him a chance.”

“Yeah, probably, but we can’t change the past. We can only move forward, and maybe that starts with us being able to talk again.” I extended the olive branch.

“I would love nothing more, Y/N. I know I have pushed you away, but I have been feeling so lonely and isolated. I want you around.” She looked down at her hands, “I need you around.”

I grabbed her hands and gave them a squeeze, “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Until my heart stops beating. You’re my sister. I will always be there for you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she gripped me in a hug as she sobbed in my shoulder, “I wanted to die.”

I didn’t realize my own tears were falling as I gripped her tightly back, “I know.”

“I don’t how to heal from this.” She whispered.

“We’ll figure it out, together.” I retorted.

“You swear?”

“I swear.” We both hissed as light flashed between us and designs of swirls and two hearts intertwining revealed itself on Feyre’s collarbone, her eyes widened when I moved my tunic shirt to see the same design. “Well, I guess you and I have a bargain, Fey.”

I pulled her back into me for another hug, and we stayed like that for a while, nothing but the crackling of the fire. Staring at the fire my brain led me to that night with Eris.

Eris paraded me around the ballroom keeping me on a short leash as his hand sprawled on my back. He reached the Dais where Amarantha and Tamlin stood, his eyes flicked to me and I could have sworn there was a flicker of a smirk was on his face but it was gone as quickly as it was there. “My queen, I would like to retire with my pet at your approval of course.”

Amarantha should me a glare and I just bow my head avoiding her gaze, “Yes get her out of my sight. Enjoy your reward.”

With a tug of the leash, he walked me out and I had chance to glance at Rhysand who was holding on to a dancing drunken Feyre. When we walked down the hall past the sentries Eris removes the leash and collar of flame and holds out his hand. I hesitated to take it and Eris clicked his tongue, “You attempt to flee, my little ember, and I will make sure you are bound to the point of uselessness.”

My hand finds his and finds they are surprisingly warm. He leads me to his chamber and finds that despite it being in the mountain it looks like it could be a room in a castle. Eris walks in and begins to unbutton his jacket and I tense, fear of what he has planned, He looked at me clearly sensing my fear. Not easing my fears, Eris shook off the jacket and walked over holding it out expecting me to put my arms through. Confusion fell upon me as I slowly moved and slid my arms in the jacket. He pulled me close causing me to gasped and he chuckled in response as he buttoned up the jacket, “There better?”

I nodded, the Autumn Court Prince gripped my arms and led me to the large bed on the side of the room near the fireplace, “Sleep.” He ordered and I crossed my arms. He looked at me expectantly and rolled his eyes and with a wave of his hand my dress was gone and so was the paint. My body was cleaned, the only thing keeping me covered was his jacket.

I bit my lip and I sighed, “That’s all you want me to do sleep?” I regretted asking the question.

His eyes flashed with rage, “What? Expect me to want to ravish you. To hear you cry and beg me to stop when I force myself upon you?” I flinched and looked at the ground. “I like my women consenting and moaning in pleasure not whimpering in fear. Only low bottom feeders get off on such a cruel act. My father being one of them.” He stilled and my head shot up at the admission he gave.

“Does he do that with your mother?” I asked clearly not worried about my well being.

“I would NEVER let him do something so heinous to her.” He snarled and I held my hands up in surrender.

“I meant no ill will toward the question.” He relaxed his shoulders, “You don’t like your father?”

He smiled and the expression was cold and cruel, “Do you like yours Y/N Archeron?”

I crossed my arms and looked away from his eyes. “No, I don’t” I answered.

If Eris was shocked by my honesty he didn’t let on. “Then it looks like you and I have something in common,” He had gotten close to me enough his body was radiating heat and gripped my chin, “Now go to sleep, My Little Ember.”

“What’s in it for you? For holding me here as your pet for the night?” I asked.

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, “You’re a mortal. I should hate you. But I’m vowing you to secrecy, you will not tell a soul, do you understand?”

I nodded my head, “Yes.” He quirked a brow waiting, and I rolled my eyes, “Yes, Master.”

He smiled and kissed my head and I grumbled at the gesture. “Good,” he said, and he leaned in and whispered in my ear and my eyes went wide. He pulled away and patted my cheek, “Now go to sleep pet,” He sat at the chair and opened a book.

I moved to the bed and found sleep the moment my head hit the pillow. It was reckless to sleep with someone as dangerous as Eris near me, but I couldn’t fight the comfort of the bed, the warmth of the fire and exhaustion in my bones. My thoughts swirling of Eris’s plan to become High Lord of Autumn Court.

Chapter 8

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #cassian x you #acotar fanfiction #cassian #cassian fanfic #cassian fluff

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 months

Text

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This is story non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being; 1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so. 2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad. Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask! Enjoy!

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: See Author's Note for Summary. Contains usual tags. Chapter title is from Growing Up by Fall Out Boy.

Read on A03!

Chapter 2

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

You were not, and never had been, in the business of fighting your wars bloody. You fought them smart, and you fought them dirty. You wouldn’t call yourself callous; if anything, you could use a little more misanthropy in your life, but your moral compass was… subjective. You would steal bread to feed your family, you would cheat if you knew you wouldn’t get caught, and, as you had spent the last six months learning, you would quickly cover your hands in all the blood and grime in the world so that nobody else would have to.

Which was, unfortunately, not a figure of speech.

You let yourself lie in the mud, the cool texture soothing your always-warm skin, and fought the urge to sleep. You could hear someone shouting your name, strung together with an impressive array of obscenities and barely audible over whatever phase of the argument your companions were on, but god, you just could not bring yourself to give a fuck. Sure, the blood on your face was already dry, and the hay mixed into the mud itched and needled at your skin, but you’d live. You’d survived much worse, and at this point it was scientifically impossible for you to get sick, so everyone could just come back for you in a week or two. Maybe three. However long it took for the nightmare sheep to die and Vought’s stock prices to be lower in the mud than where you lay. Maybe a bit longer. Maybe until Homelander wasn’t a you problem anymore. Maybe they’d feed his corpse to the nightmare sheep when they came to get you.

You felt yourself smile a little at that thought. Dead Homelander, weak and pathetic; golden hair grimy; awful blue eyes milky and hollow. Dead Homelander, hands unable to hurt you, mouth unable to twist into that horrific smile. Dead Homelander, pretty face mauled and stupid outfit smelling like shit from being dragged in it to the barn. Dead Homelander, being torn to tiny pieces and eaten by sheep. Dead Homelander, the worst thing that ever happened to you, finishing his reign of terror shat out next to a creek somewhere.

Your smile covered your whole face at this point. It probably looked weird and creepy—the dire, life-or-death situation you were smack dab in the middle of not doing it any favors—but god, it was too perfect a daydream. You could live here forever, in the mud, with your fucked-up little fantasy on loop.

Tragically, you barely had twenty seconds in this ideal world when something hit you in the face.

“What the fuck?!" You sat up, ignoring the hand offering aid from Frenchie, glaring around the barn for your assailant.

“Bout time you join the land of the living, Love. We’ve got a fucking problem, and you don’t get to nap until it’s fixed.” Across the barn, Billy Butcher shot you a cocky grin that didn’t meet his eyes. To be fair, you weren’t sure it ever did.

“You didn’t have to hit me in the face, you ass.”

“That was me,” Frenchie cut in. “And you should thank me; Monsieur Butcher was going to shoot you.”

“You were going to shoot me?!”

“Would’ve felt the same either way, wouldn’t it?” Butcher shrugged.

“No! I’m not bulletproof, you dick!”

“You’d live.”

“So would MM if you shot him! I don’t see you gearing up for that!”

“Well, MM wasn’t sleeping in the middle of a crisis!”

You rolled your eyes, meeting Butcher’s glare from across the room. "Oh, please, you just wanted an excuse to try and kill me!”

“If I wanted to kill you, Sweetheart, it’d look more like this.” Butcher’s arms started to move behind him, where you knew he kept his gun, and you braced yourself, hands fisted at your side.

“Hey!” MM stepped forward, arms raised. “You, if you shoot anyone, I will throw you out to the sheep, I swear to God. And you,” he turned his gaze from Butcher, “turn it down; it’s the middle of winter in Maine, and I feel like I’m standing in the goddamn sun.”

You blinked, realizing that the room had rapidly become impossibly hot, and everyone had moved far as possible from where you stood. The new, alien feeling that sat under your skin was alight and sharp, almost buzzing through you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back. MM lowered his arms, a look of what might have been concern flashing across his face, but turned away as the conversation returned to the murder-sheep issue.

You took a few steps back; nobody stopping you or asking for your contribution, fully allowing you to shrink into the wall. You felt your hand move up to your throat, trying to slow the tense, short breaths passing in and out of your body.

“Try thinking of something that calmed you down before.”

You jumped, not having noticed Victoria Neuman move to your side, and gave her a small frown as you responded. “What?”

“Something familiar. Anything that takes the edge off. Trust me,” she gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It won’t get easier on its own. And that,“ she gestured to your hand. “Won’t help it long-term.”

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to drag your hand from your throat. Something happy. Something happy from before. What had been happy before?

Briefly, city lights flashed in your head, a song on a stereo accompanied by your own hum ringing silently in your ears. It vanished just as fast, but something in your chest loosened, and the feeling waned. Glancing over at Neuman, you saw a small nod of approval before she left your side, allowing you a second to steel yourself before following.

You found yourself standing next to Annie, who gave you a quick and, as far as you could tell, genuine smile before returning her attention to the tense conversation between Butcher and Stan Edgar. The former's voice had grown to a shout, somewhat ranting about a goose-chase for the bioweapon supposedly on this farm, the latter just watching with a cold, indifferent gaze.

“Are you done, Mr. Butcher?” Edgar’s voice betrayed no anger or fear; the only signs of emotion on his face his tightened lips and raised brows. “Because if you are, I would finally be able to share my plan to get us out of this hellhole you dug us.”

Butcher scoffed, but before he could call Edgar either a cunt or a twat—both seemed equally plausible at the moment—the stone-faced man continued.

“While I will be the first to admit that an error was made in regards to a possible weapon against Homelander, I could not call today a complete waste. After all, you introduced me to this… charming young woman. The Anomaly,” he turned to you, and a shiver ran up your spine as he used your supe name. “Is going to help us.”

“Uh,” you paled under the pressing eyes of your team. “No. I don’t, uh, I… no.”

“Yes. You will,” Edgar said. “The V variant you carry is Homelander’s attempt to duplicate the original, the one used on Soldier Boy. Most likely a good attempt. And though the original V was unstable and less than suitable in any practical means, it was potent. I do not think I would be wrong in guessing you are just as strong as Soldier Boy, and likely immortal as well.”

“No.” Annie cut it in. “If you’re going to suggest we use her as fucking bait, the answer is no.”

“I was not going to suggest that, Ms. January, why would I waste such a good product on sheep bait? I am proposing that she simply eliminate our issue. I hear sheep catch fire quite easily.”

Everyone was looking at you now. Waiting for you to step forward and say something, anything. But you were frozen, mouth slightly agape, a million scenarios playing out in your head. You saying yes, and failing to do anything but start a forest fire, the barn burning around you as everyone remained trapped inside. You saying no, and the sheep breaking in and eating everyone alive. You saying yes, but losing control and hitting someone, watching them burn to ash as they screamed. You saying no, and everyone just rotting away in the barn; you yourself unable to do the same. The silence hung in the room, taunt with the way breathing had become labored in your chest, and you thanked a god you didn’t believe in as Annie stepped forward.

“She can’t control it,” she told Edgar. “We’ve been working on it for months, and she’s gotten better, but she can’t. It’s more complicated than it usually is, and it’s new.”

“Well, then I guess we should start to pray she gets lucky. I simply will not die in a barn in Maine, and unless anyone else has a plan, I must insist we start moving. Before the structural integrity fails us, and we all become dinner.”

The room was quiet for another moment, Annie looking as if she wanted to argue, but MM spoke first, his voice laced with reluctance.

“He’s right. We don’t have time to come up with something better.” He sighed, turning to you. “You’re the best bet we’ve got.”

“Still a shit bet,” Butcher muttered.

You agreed.

But Edgar was right.

“Everyone will need to stay inside,” you said softly. “Even if it works, this could get… messy.”

Murmurs of agreement were made, and you turned to Kimiko. “You’re the strongest,” you told her. “You can open and close the door the fastest. Crack it open, I’ll run through, and slam it as fast as you fucking can.”

She nodded, moving to the barn's entrance. As she passed you, she paused, giving your arm a small squeeze and you a small smile before she continued. You smiled back, trying to ignore the flash of her anxiety running through you at the touch. Everyone else began to move to the opposite side, hiding pointlessly behind hay and barrels. Neuman paused, though, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Something calm,” was all she said before turning to follow Edgar.

Something calm.

City lights. Music. Cheap burgers and cheaper beer. Carefree smiles. Music.

You stood before the doors, giving Kimiko a small thumbs up. She raised her hand, fingers falling from five to four, from four to three.

Two.

One.

You sprinted forward, waited for the sound of a slam behind you, and let go.

The world lit up.

It felt like a hurricane was spilling out of you, like a part of you was being ripped out and launched away. You could see the fire, but not quite feel it. If anything a chill had set itself through your veins, your skin becoming flushed not from heat, but exhaustion. Already darkness was creeping into your eyes, the effort to control the flames splitting the sky taking a toll. It was like a volcano trying to control its eruption, if any of its magma was under the control of the mountain.

But you had to. You could pass out after; you could sleep for a hundred years, but right now you had to control it.

The blood and muck on your skin had been long seared off, the clothes on your back turning into foul-smelling smoke. Your job was long finished now, nothing but bone and sinew remaining of the sheep, but a new problem emerged.

You couldn’t stop. You were burning and burning and burning, and the feeling in your skin wasn’t dulling, but growing. The exhaustion was gone, replaced by pure adrenaline, yanking you up and up, away from relief.

Something calm, Neuman’s voice echoed in your head, and you closed your eyes, trying to hear that long-gone music and see those phantom lights.

It wasn’t working. And you were only getting closer to an edge, a drop into something you’d been so careful to avoid. It was eating you, pushing you further and further. You'd jump into the freezing water of the river but it would just evaporate. You’d bury yourself in the mud but it would just boil, feeding into itself.

Sing, a small part of you begged the rest. Just sing. No use hiding yourself if you’re dead.

You gave in, and began to hum. An empty tune, your voice on key but strained. Slowly, you felt yourself come to, your body returning to your control. You followed the song to the end, and as it ended, just before you collapsed on the ground, relief rushed through you. The fire had lingered, a saving grace from your song. You hadn’t felt any effects, with no hallucinations plaguing your vision before it went dark.

————

The first thing you realized when you woke up was that someone had moved you from the dirt to rest against a tree. The second was that you were no longer naked. Someone had apparently managed to find you clothes, and though they were itchy and a few sizes too big, you were still grateful. The third was that you smelled like shit. You had thought you were covered in blood before, but that now seemed as if it had been bubbles and floral perfume. One might have thought thoroughly barbecued sheep would’ve smelled at least tolerable. They would’ve been wrong. Because you were covered in what of it hadn’t dissipated into smoke, and you smelled like a dumpster full of rubber and fish.

The only person who would come near you was Frenchie, who had forsaken his sense of smell years ago, and had evidently dressed you and pulled you to where you currently sat. Everyone else stood closer to the fence, waiting for their ride back to New York to pull up on the dirt road. You sat alone, eyes still drooping, startled out of your own head as Edgar’s voice cut through the air.

“I must say, I am glad to see my faith in you was not misplaced.”

"Yeah, well,” you shrugged, looking up at where he stood, only a few feet away. “I wouldn’t ask for an encore.”

“I am afraid I may have to. In our prior introduction, it seems you deeply undersold your capabilities.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t have time for self-evaluation when I was being kept in a fucking dungeon.”

Edgar sighed. “I must apologize for that. Though I was not made aware of Homelander’s little escapade, I recognize that you might feel as though I hold some blame.”

“Not an apology,” you muttered. “And I find that hard to believe.”

“Unfortunate, but I cannot force you to accept the truth.” He looked you up and down once before continuing. “And regardless, it is not what I am here to say.”

“I was wrong only once today, and it was when I said you were just as strong as Soldier Boy. You are not. You are much, much stronger. Not physically, of course, but overall. Overall, your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. I know you wish him dead, I would imagine you prefer it to be painful, and very few deaths inflict the suffering felt when one is burned alive. I suggest you learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. You were looking for a weapon, and I am telling you that you are it. Do not waste yourself.”

And he walked away, leaving your mouth open and your eyes wide. You stood to follow him, painfully pulling yourself to your feet, but made only a few steps before you felt a rock hit your back, and you whipped around to find Frenchie behind you, holding a hose.

“Starlight suggests you take a shower before our drive back,” he said, gesturing to the hose.

You blinked, looking back at Edgar, only to watch him be loaded into an armed van. Your brow wrinkled, a part of you wanting to chase the car down and demand Edgar elaborate, but you just turned back to Frenchie with a sigh.

“Sure, just count down before you–“

You cut yourself off as the freezing water hit you in the face.

Thankfully, Frenchie had thought to bring a towel—a gross, possibly moldy towel—but a towel nonetheless, and he handed it to you the moment the hose-down was finished. As his arm stretched out, you noticed a deep gash poking out from his sleeve.

“I can fix that,” you gestured to him. “I mean, I’ll have to touch you, but I won’t tell anyone what I feel, and you won’t have to let MM give you stitches.”

Frenchies frowned, looking at his arm as if only he now noticing his injury. “Are you sure? You must be tired, and–“

“I’ll be fine. Won’t hurt me for more than a few seconds.”

He hesitated, but gave you a nod, rolling up his sleeve before offering his injury to you. You took a deep breath and placed your hand over the wound. It hit you fast, it always did, the onslaught of emotions. You were suddenly twice as tired, a powerful and painful guilt sitting on your shoulders and a self-loathing that was familiar, but not yours, carved itself into your chest. After a second to adjust, you started to work. Your own arm, mirror to Frenchies, began to sting as the skin turned raw and red. You bit your tongue, ignoring it and focusing on keeping yourself going until the cut was gone, the skin was healthy, and there were no signs of any issues in the first place.

“Huh,” Frenchie stated at his unmarked arm, glancing at your own, which was already fully healed itself. “Merci.”

“No problem,” you offered him a grin. “Just don’t tell Butcher you accepted my evil supe healing.”

“You do not,” he frowned slightly. “You do not feel everything, yes? Just, simple, children’s emotions?”

It was your turn to frown. “Children’s emotions?”

“Oui. Joy, fear, sadness. No more.”

Oh. You hesitated to answer, debating if it was worth the lie. It would make him feel better, you reasoned with yourself.

But he wouldn’t trust you, a little voice whispered. And he’ll hate you.

You settled on the truth. You didn’t think you could stand another person hating you.

“No, I feel… everything,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying before. I won’t tell anyone.” You paused, watching his face carefully as you continued. “I won’t tell Kimiko.”

A look of shock passed over his face, but Frenchie nodded. “Good. Good. Tres bien,” he gave you a grateful look. “Merci.”

“Anytime,” you gave him a close-lipped smile, and the two of you returned to your group just as your ride pulled up. As you loaded into the car and began the long, tense drive, Edgar’s words replayed on loop in your head.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. Learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. Do not waste yourself.

Do not waste yourself.

You thought back to the last time you saw Homelander. Though it had been from a distance, and he had not even known you were there, your body had frozen. Fear, white-hot and all consuming, had coursed through you. You had almost passed out from it. If you had been face-to-face with him, it might have killed you all on its own.

Do not waste yourself.

You couldn’t fight Homelander. You just couldn’t. You could be capable of overpowering him tenfold, and you still wouldn’t be able to fight him. You knew, in your heart, that his eyes would meet yours and you would be sent right back into that tiny white room, feel his hands holding you down, feel that hollow, empty hopelessness leak from you into the air.

But he needs to die, a small voice whispered in your head. And you’re the Anomaly. You could kill him. You’re the only one who could stop him forever, make sure he never hurts anyone, ever again.

No. No, you couldn’t be the only one. Yes, the biochem weapon had been a bust, and no one else could possibly rival Homelander and come out of it alive. But there had to be other options.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s.

Do not waste yourself.

An idea started to form in your head. A terrible idea. A reckless and dangerous idea. But an idea all the same. And as it became fully formed, you managed to convince yourself more and more that it might somehow work.

Now all you had to do was convince everyone else.

——-

“No. No fucking way.”

The air in the meeting room was tense, mouths hanging open in shock. MM was glaring at you with a disdain you had previously only seen directed at Butcher, Butcher watched at you with a reverence you hope to never see on his face again, Grace Mallory looked all at once disgusted, intrigued, and impressed, and President-Elect Singer frowned as he listened, but gave you a nod to continue regardless.

“I know it’s crazy, but the problem last time was that you couldn’t control him, right? And I could. You can have us isolated, making sure we're out of the public eye and away from any possible collateral until you need us. I’d keep an eye on him, keep him in line, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”

“I, for one, think this is an amazing idea. Best one I ever heard,” Butcher grinned at you. “Worst case scenario, it goes sideways, he kills her, we knock him out, and everyone still wins.”

“What part of ‘he wouldn’t be able to hurt me’ don’t you understand?” You snapped back.

“What if he blasts you with his fucking reactor?” MM pushed. “Makes you just another human? What’s your plan then?”

“That wouldn’t work on me,” you responded dryly.

Butcher snorted, but Mallory raised an eyebrow.

“Really? What makes you so sure?”

“One of the tests that was run on me was putting me in a room and blasting it with nuclear energy. They dropped Hiroshima on me, and it did jack shit. Soldier Boy throwing a temper tantrum won’t be any different.”

“And how do you think you could control him?” Singer asked.

“I can burn up to 5500 degrees Celsius. That’s hotter than a bomb. Won’t kill him, will knock him the fuck out. And it’ll hurt.”

“I just can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner,” Butcher mused. “It’s fuckin' perfect.”

You glowered at him. “Stop helping me.”

MM looked at Mallory. “The fact that America’s number one unstable asshole,” he gestured to Butcher. “Is on board should be enough to tell you how stupid this is.”

“Number two unstable asshole,” you said under your breath.

“Thanks, Love,” Butcher winked at you.

“Yeah well, don’t be so pleased. You’re only just losing to Homelander.”

Butcher shrugged, and you returned your attention to Singer. “Sir, please trust me. I, more than almost anyone, know how dangerous this could be. But Homelander is more dangerous. We needed a weapon,” you echoed Edgar’s words. “This is it.”

Singer nodded slowly, and MM scoffed.

“You can’t be seriously considering this. He’s a fucking unstable asshole murderer and a goddamn liability. What if we wake him up, she can’t control him, and he gets free?”

“We said whatever it takes,” you snapped. “I wouldn’t be pitching this if I thought it wouldn’t work. I can control him, I promise.”

“You’d bet your life on it?” Mallory asked.

“My life?” You snorted. “In a heartbeat.”

Mallory sighed. “Then fine,” she shot a look to Singer. “I’ll sign off if you do.”

“Sir,” MM said, sounding almost desperate. “I am begging you, do not do this.”

Singer just shook his head slightly. “Desperate times, they make you do desperate things. If I saw another way, I’d take it, but for now we’ll have to make do. I approve the request.”

“Thank you, sir.” You gave Singer a grateful nod, ignoring the searing feeling of MM’s anger.

“Don’t thank me, girl. If this goes south, it’s your head. Grace, set up a safe house for them ASAP, if I’m signing off on this I want it moving fast.”

Mallory nodded. “It’ll take a few days. We’ll have to transport him there before we wake him up.”

“Do whatever you have to,” Singer said as he stood to leave. “If this is our only shot, we can’t afford to miss.”

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phan3145 · 1 month

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Title: Slippery Slope. Fandom: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. Rating: M ( Cursing, blood, minor character death, mature themes) Pairing: Eventual Noa x Human!Reader.

***Notes: I am so sorry this is so late, you don’t understand how this chapter nearly ended me. I also had no intention of making it this long. Broken record, right? Want to say a big THANK YOU to @sttudnobright for commenting on my poll, because it was their comment that made me finally realize how to frame this chapter. Tagging @imaginarydreams since they asked to be kept updated. Also, reminder to check the rating for this chapter.

Chapter 6: Jumbled

You

When you opened your eyes again you were in your bed, fire going steadily across from you, lighting up the entirety of the cave. You didn’t remember leaving that much kindling on it, but decided you must have. At least it was warm. You let out a whining groan as you attempted to stretch your body. Your arms went above your head, your back arching, toes extending before curling a few times. Your body hurt so much.

Your left shoulder blade felt as if someone had clubbed you, your thighs not faring much better. They felt tight, vice-like. You swayed your hips slightly, hearing a pop in your right joint that relieved a fraction of the tension. You brought your arms back down from where they had been resting above your head, seeing your wrapped hands. Thankfully, you hadn’t bled through the cloth, but the skin underneath felt hot. You didn’t want to think about what it looked like.

Memory flooded back to you then; the library, the boar, the leap of faith off of the horse, and then falling asleep on the way back. This caused you to bolt upright, realizing you were in fact in your bed and not riding on a horse. As you did, the large figure that had been silently sitting next to you, watching your every move, sprung to their feet. You jerked away from them, a scream dying in the back of your throat when you realized who it was.

“Noa.” You gasped, hand coming up to clutch at your too dry throat. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

Noa appraised you a moment, eyes trailing up and down your form so methodically you felt naked. You fought the urge to bring your blanket up, knowing you were still wearing the same clothes you had on before. Speaking of which, your bed was dirty now that your outside clothes had touched it. That was probably the least of your worries though, remembering how your jacket had completely lost its backing. Though summer was approaching, spring was holding on with a vengeance at night when the sun went down.

Noa, apparently done with his study of you, handed you your canteen. You took it gratefully, saying a quick thank you as you drank. He chose to speak then, “Watching over you…could not wake you when we arrived…had to have Anaya…help move your rock.”

That frightened you, turning towards your entry way to see the rock moved to its normal open position. You swallowed thickly, “You two were able to open it?”

“Was not easy.” Noa replied, walking towards where your fire was going, and bringing something back wrapped in a large leaf. “Took much time…difficult to open…but not impossible.”

You noticed as he carefully handed you the leaf, that Noa’s eyes went distant, as if he was remembering something from a long time ago. Distracted by the new object in your hand, you unwrapped it to find fresh salmon. That explained the extra kindling, he must have just finished cooking it…you could still see steam rising from the ends. You were surprised how well the leaf insulated against the heat. Leaning over, you reached for the dagger under your pillow, slicing slits into the cooked fish to release the heat. You tore and picked at the edges of it, only then realizing how hungry you really were.

Noa eyed you warily, watching as you used the dagger to cut into the meat. You were too hungry to act shy about the weapon, shoving a huge chunk of meat into your mouth using the blade as a type of spoon. You swallowed quickly, waving the dagger in the air before explaining, “In case something else ever gets in. Last line of defense. It’s better to be safe than sorry, but I’ve never had to use it before.”

Noa grunted, apparently willing to leave it there. You took another bite, eyes trailing back over to your entry. The day you met the trio, Noa was able to budge the rock slightly, just by himself. You had marveled at his power, never fearing he would ever be able to break in from the outside, regardless of his strength. A part of you was grateful that they were able to get it open, giving your body time to rest in bed and wake up comfortably. Still, you felt uneasy at the thought that only two apes had been enough to pry open your sense of safety.

As if hearing your thoughts, Noa added, “Almost gave up…several times…in the beginning could barely…find it…then together could barley…move it at all….Soona suggested taking you back…to village for the night.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, eyes widening, and stomach dropping. You shook your head, “No. No, that would have been a very bad decision.”

Noa scoffed, “Anaya said…same thing…do not see why…would have been there with you…as I am now.”

Before you could say anything else, Noa was in front of you again, handing you an apple. The oddness of him feeding you struck you then, taking it from him but setting it down next to you. You weren’t done with your fish, but your appetite had suddenly vanished. You carefully moved the leaf and its contents off to the side, freeing up your lap so you could swing your legs over the side of your bed. You braced your hands on the edge, leaning forward slightly, attempting to take inconspicuous deep breaths.

Of course, Noa noticed something was wrong. He crouched to be eye level with you, something you noticed he always seemed to be doing. Anaya and Soona would move freely, but if Noa was speaking to you he would be sure to be on your level, or at least mirror your body language. You tried to avoid his gaze, that feeling of being exposed returning as he commented, “You should…eat more…no food since sunrise.”

You shook your head, “I’m not that hungry anymore.”

“Rest then?” Noa asked. “Can sleep…will stand watch.”

“Maybe later,” you mumbled.

Noa’s eyes scanned your face, fighting to catch your gaze. That in itself must have been telling, as he said slowly, “You…are…upset?”

You were suddenly hot, pulling your arms a little too roughly out of the sleeves of your ruined jacket. You held it in your hand, thumb rubbing at the shredded ends of the back. You didn’t think there was any chance of mending it, wondering if there was a way to repurpose it. For now, it did keep your arms covered at least.

You looked up then, seeing Noa’s expression shift from concerned to sorrowful. You weren’t sure if it was due to your silence or your tattered jacket. You tried to put some life into your voice, softly but kindly explaining, “You don’t have to stay, Noa. I’ll be alright.”

“Want to…stay.” Noa replied, shaking his head.

“Why?” You asked, a self deprecating chuckle leaving you as you ran a hand through your hair.

Noa didn’t hesitate, “Worried…about you.”

You didn’t say anything to that. He probably had good reason to worry about you…at times like this you worried about yourself too. Usually you were fine, but then there were days where you would feel the reality of your life crash into you and panic over the situation you found yourself in. It happened the day after meeting Noa, all the ways things could have gone wrong if he was a different ape, how things could still go wrong. God…just the thought of waking up, not knowing where you were, potentially surrounded by other apes, had your stomach turning.

So lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice Noa raise his hand up, his thumb attempting to brush over the mark he had placed on your forehead. You flinched back out of instinct. He did the same, snatching his hand away and tilting his head at you. You forced your muscles to relax, mumbling, “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that.”

“You..do not like…being touched.” Noa paused, it wasn’t a question. “Then…sometimes you do…why?”

That was one of the questions you didn’t want to answer, knowing there were things you would have to explain that Noa might not understand. There were also things that he wouldn’t like if you explained them to him. Today had been an eventful day, you were not only emotionally exhausted, but physically as well. You wanted to trust Noa, tell him everything you kept trapped and secret in your mind, but you didn’t know if you could trust yourself. It was all too heavy, it would crush you under its weight. He didn’t push though, patiently waiting for your response. You almost smiled, knowing he would probably wait all night for you if he needed to.

Not thinking too much on the action itself, you pushed yourself from your bed, lowering your body onto the ground to be closer to…well, Noa. As much as you hated to admit it, there was something about him that brought you comfort. If you were in your normal mindset you might question that further, but for now, you wanted the comfort of his closeness. His eyes widened a fraction, letting out a small hum as he shifted from his haunches to a seated position on the floor as well. His legs were spread out in front of him, yours were bent at the knee, feet feeling the cool stone beneath you as you rested your hands on your knees. If your foot moved an inch or two to the right it would be touching Noa’s, and you had to shake that thought from your head.

Your fingers tapped out a rhythm, trying to distract yourself as you admitted, “I mainly flinch out of fear. I don’t really mean to, but I’ve been alone for so long now that…usually if something is touching me, it’s not a good thing.”

“Fear…” Noa repeated, mulling over you or answer. “Why…are you afraid…of apes?”

“Apes can be dangerous,” you replied honestly.

“When?” He asked.

Your brows furred, “What do you mean?”

“When did it…happen,” Noa clarified. “When…were apes dangerous…to you?”

“I -I didn’t say-” you started, but Noa cut you off.

“Fear does not happen…for no reason,” he huffed. “When did apes…make you afraid?”

You hesitated, throat feeling tight again “ Years ago.”

Noa leaned in closer, tone softening, “What happened?”

Well, this was it. The thing you swore you would never speak about again for as long as you lived. You didn’t have to answer, but you had come this far, and not explaining this to Noa meant that he would never understand your fear. It might even drive a wedge further between you two at some point in the future. Today already took an emotional toll on you, so how much worse could this be?

“I…I told you I lived in a vault once, right?” You stammered.

Noa hummed.

You took a deep breath then, “There was a virus- which I’m not sure if you know about. It took away the ability for humans to speak, made us really sick. Sometimes…it even killed us.”

Noa nodded, “Know…about it.”

You swallowed, “It didn’t effect most of us in the vault….I think before I was born the ones in there were immune to it. I was-was tested when I was born, and I was allowed to go outside with my parents whenever I wanted. For m-most of my life everyone came and went as they pleased, living in nature, even farming. This…apocalyptic world our scientists were always talking about, didn’t seem so bad at the t-time. I had freedom, a family, and f-friends. I lived a happy life.”

“How old…were you?” Noa clarified, “When…it happened.”

“S…seventeen.” You mumbled, pinching your eyes closed for a moment and running a hand through your hair. It had only gotten longer, and you reminded yourself then that you should cut it soon. “I wasn’t…wasn’t even considered an adult yet. I never in my wildest nightmares imagined that I could lose everyone I…it happened so fast.”

“Where are family…friends…now?” Noa asked.

You took in a breath, “Hopefully, they’re all dead.”

Noa visibly reacted to this, “Why…would you hope…for that?”

“Because the humans the gorillas didn’t kill outright,” you gritted through your teeth. “Are the ones they decided to keep as pets.”

“Gorillas…killed?” Noa didn’t seem shocked, but it still seemed like a hard concept for him to understand.

You felt a shiver run up your spine, and you forced your body not to show it as memories assaulted your mind in response to the question. You couldn’t speak, choosing instead to jerk your head once in a single nod.

“What is…pet?” Noa asked, raising his left hand in a closed fist, before making a back and forth motion with his right hand over top of it. “Not pet like…this?”

“No,” you shook your head, teeth clenching. “Not like that at all.”

You had to take a moment to swallow the anger, knowing this was a genuine question. Noa was not the one you were angry with, he was the one who was here after you got hurt. He was the one who made sure you didn’t fall off the horse. He was the one that never harmed you no matter how easy it would have been to do so. He was the one listening to you, the one who was worried about you. He cared about you.

With your emotions in check, you explained, “A pet is an animal humans would domest- tame…an animal humans would tame to keep with them. We would give them names, and put collars around their necks so others knew who they belonged to. We fed them, and gave them shelter in exchange for their loyalty and companionship.”

Noa was hesitant, but admitted, “Does not sound…bad…we raise Eagles…very similar…we wear their feathers and…have names for them to…tell apart.”

You shook your head, “It’s not the same. The clan and the eagles are the same, equal. I’ve even heard Anaya refer to Eagle Sun as your older brother.”

Noa huffed at that, looking away a moment before asking, “How is it…different then?”

“First of all,” you started. “For humans, a pet was treated as something under us. We cared for them, loved them, but they were not our equals. We chose them, cared for them instead of letting them fend for themselves in the wilderness. Secondly, the gorillas did not share the same amount of care for their pets that humans did theirs. They treated them brutally.”

“How do you…know?” Noa challenged.

You looked him the eye then, refusing to so much as blink as you confessed, “Because I was trapped in a cage as a pet for over a year.”

You’d never seen an ape be sick before, but Noa looked awfully close. His face was incredibly scrunched, and unless it was a trick of the fire, he looked two shades paler. His body seemed more hunched in, as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He breathed out the only word he seemed to be able to form, “What?”

Your hand covered your own mouth for a moment after the confession. Now that you said it out loud, it was real again. Nausea crept up on you at the epiphany, the fish in your gut souring the back of your throat. You turned away from Noa then, your other hand moving to your stomach and legs falling to the ground as you fought the overwhelming feeling. You already started, you couldn’t let yourself stop now. No one on this planet knew what happened now that your mother was gone. Someone else besides you should know. You took very deep breaths, hearing Noa start to make those humming noises again. They reminded you of the day you two had met, and that thought grounded you.

You turned back to Noa then, “My friends and I left the vault, three males and two females. We were traveling along a river, one we were very familiar with, when a group of gorillas and a few chimps approached us. We weren’t sure what to do, we had never seen apes before. The males simply stood in front of my friend and I. They had weapons, for hunting, but my friend and I had nothing.”

You saw the look in Noa’s eyes, the despair he held for you. You shifted again, bringing your knees up to tuck into your chest. You wrapped your arms around them, turning your head to face Noa as you rested your cheek on your knees. You tried to smile, “My friends were so brave, and if it weren’t for them, I might not be here now.”

“Do you…” Noa started. He opened his mouth as if to gulp the air, canines visible for a moment before he continued, “Do you…want silence?”

You shook your head, “I need to tell you, I need to say it. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say it again if I stop now.”

Noa nodded, grunting as he stamped a closed fist against the ground a few times. You weren’t sure what it meant, but it might have been involuntary as he sighed through his nose, “Will not…speak…until you are…finished.”

“Okay.” You sighed, closing your eyes and letting the memories overtake you.

…

Kieran and Erik were at it again, trying to prove who was stronger. Somehow you and Eden got dragged into it, both of you being picked up and thrown over one of the boys shoulders as they ran down stream. Eden was absolutely losing it, snorting as she screamed in glee. You on the other hand, were just trying to make sure Kieran didn’t drop you. Even you had to admit though, it was pretty funny, a few giggles escaping as Kieran tried to trip Erik.

“I will strangle you if you trip me Kieran, I swear to God!” Erik shouted, stumbling slightly as Eden continued to squeal.

You slapped Kieran on the shoulder, “Fight fair! If you make Erik drop Eden he’ll have to get in line to strangle you.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Kieran called, picking up the pace, as you imagined the river’s edge was close.

You raised your head to see Micheal bringing up the rear, multiple bows and packs of arrows slung across his back as he attempted to keep up with his two younger brothers. Your eyes locked and you smiled at him, who in turn blushed and looked away. You enjoyed flustering him, not sure when he started acting differently around you, only that ever since, he had trouble keeping eye contact with you.

You would probably marry him one day. He was two years older than you, and while looks had never been something you were a particularly good judge on, you supposed he was decent enough. He was about your height, with dark auburn hair and brown eyes the color of a rich wood. More than his looks though, he was smart, smarter than Kieran and Erik for sure. He was the main hunter, knew how to be patient and find solutions to problems most wouldn’t think of. You admired that in him, how he never pretended to be something he wasn’t, never boasted or bragged that he was strong. He let his actions speak for themselves. While Eden might appreciate Kieran or Erik for their playfulness and macho displays, Micheal was the one who had your full attention.

Just as you thought that, Kieran jerked to a stop, and you felt your body go forward as he let you down, hollering his victory over Erik. Eden was still laughing, giving Erik a quick peck on the cheek in an attempt to comfort him.

“Hey, I won,” Kieran protested. “Shouldn’t I be the one to get a kiss?”

“You tried to cheat,” Eden accused, finger pointing at him.

Kieran smiled, “Key word being tried. I didn’t actually trip Erik.”

Eden rolled her eyes, turning to Micheal who was just now catching up, “I think he should be disqualified. What about you?”

Without missing a beat, Micheal said, “Absolutely. Erik wins by default, congratulations you two.”

Eden cheered, giving Erik a high-five as Kieran sulked. I patted his shoulder, “Better luck next time. Hey, I appreciate that you didn’t drop me.”

“Do I get a kiss for that?” He asked.

I snorted, “Yeah, sure.”

I leaned forward to kiss his cheek when Kieran suddenly turned his head, kissing me on the lips. I pulled back immediately as he grinned, looking so proud of himself. Of course, never one to boast when he actually does something outrageous. I practically growled at him, raising a leg to take my shoe off.

“Oh, shit!” Kieran cursed as he attempted to run.

“Get back here you ass!” You called as you chased after him, “Come take your beating like a man!”

Eden pulled Erik back playfully as he made to grab him, but Micheal was suddenly there, lunging forward and grabbing Kieran around the neck in a type of chokehold. This surprised you, but you just chuckled evilly, ready to get your revenge. Micheal saying your name however, stopped you in your tracks. That’s when you noticed his eyes locked on to something up ahead of you. Even Kieran stopped struggling as he caught site of what Micheal had.

Eden, Erik, and you all turned at the same time to find out what the other two were staring at. That’s when you saw it, apes on horseback. You had never seen an ape in person before, and you had to wonder what they were doing here. The five of you had frequented this river since you could walk, this wasn’t claimed territory. You were too scared to look away or make a sound now, feeling like something was terribly wrong. Running didn’t seem like a good idea though.

You heard Micheal call your name again, “Put your shoe back on and get behind me. Eden, you too. Erik, back up to me with Eden slowly.”

We all did as he instructed as the caravan of apes got closer. There were five gorillas and three chimpanzees. Two of the chimps were walking alongside the group instead of riding. That must mean there was a settlement nearby. A new ape settlement.

You felt Eden wrap her arm around yours, attempting to pull you back further. You didn’t want to move, afraid to look weak, and Micheal was right in front of you. He hadn’t reached for his bow yet, but his hands were ready. Erik and Kieran on the other hand weren’t willing to wait, arrows strung and pointed towards the ground.

The apes stopped then, probably 20 feet away from you, making a few noises that you assumed was their way of communication. You noticed them scanning your group, the biggest gorilla locking eyes with you for a brief moment before turning his attention to Erik. He was shifting from foot to foot, arrow pointed slightly off the ground now, as if he sensed danger.

“We mean you no harm,” Micheal’s booming voice called out. “As long as you mean us no harm. We understand if this is your territory, we did not know. We will respectfully leave and return to our homes and not come back.”

The larger gorilla huffed at one of the chimps on the ground, who paced to the back of his horse. He then turned to the smaller gorilla on his left, pointing to Micheal. You felt your stomach drop, not understanding what that meant, but having a feeling it wasn’t good. You felt Micheal’s hand on your stomach then, pushing you back as he whispered, “Start backing up, but don’t run unless I say.”

You hummed, too afraid to speak as the group slowly started inching backwards.

The large gorilla spoke then, the deep scratchy voice sending chills down your spine. “Human who can speak…comes with us.”

Ice flooded your veins then, looking to Micheal who seemed to be assessing the situation. Erik, upon hearing that, raised his bow in the air, aiming for the gorilla who spoke. No sooner had he done that, you heard a Thunk noise, and a gasp be ripped from Erik’s mouth. You turned, watching in slow motion as Erik took a step back, allowing you to see the spear lodged in his chest.

You watched the realization hit him at the same time as the rest of you, a final glance to Micheal before he collapsed. You couldn’t react, shock gripping your being as you saw Eden cover her mouth to smother the scream she wanted to let out, visibly shaking now as she clung to you. Kieran was smart enough not to raise his bow further, but he and Micheal shared a devastated look before facing the apes again.

“Run.” Micheal hissed, and time seemed to not only resume, but speed up.

The gorillas all practically leapt off their horses. The two chimps on the ground hurling spears, not trying to hit you but trying to keep you all in one place. Eden took off alongside you, and for once, you were thankful she was smaller than you, it allowed her to be faster. You heard Micheal and Kieran behind you, turning your head over your shoulder once to see the apes gaining. Micheal did the same, and you saw the calculating look in his eye as he turned back around.

He called out then, “Kieran you’re with me, you two don’t stop running for anything! I mean it!”

You heard Eden whimper ahead of you as a sort of confirmation, and you stumbled a moment, wanting to stop but knowing if you did, whatever Micheal intended to do would be in vain. Two sets of footsteps stopped echoing behind you, so you kept running, dodging over limbs and bushes as you both strayed from the rivers edge in search of cover.

You heard arrows flying alongside apes screeching and roaring in tandem. You couldn’t look, couldn’t see who was winning. You had to keep going…..but then you heard Kieran scream. You turned then to see one of the chimps dead on the ground, and a Gorilla struggling to breathe next to the corpse, half dead himself. He had more than seven arrows lodged in his chest. There were two more gorillas though, one restraining Micheal and the other…

Kieran was on the ground, body twisted in an unnatural position, with the second gorilla above him. You saw dark arms raise before fists came down over his body. Micheal struggled in a net next to him, screaming and cursing at the apes. You looked away, hearing the pain in Kieran’s voice each time the Thump of fists came down on him. You heard a wet, cracking sound following the next blow that echoed in the forest. Then, there was no more screaming. No more hits to the ground. No more sound. You knew Kieran was dead.

You heard the pound of running steps behind you then, and you knew what was about to happen. You gasped in air, forcing your body to go faster, run harder. Eden was so far ahead of you…you knew she would probably get away if she just kept going. You willed your voice to be steady as you screamed, “Don’t stop, Eden! Run faster, give it everything you have! Don’t stop until you’re home! Don’t look back, just run!”

You didn’t hear a response, but you saw her shift slightly, running more on the balls of her feet and picking her legs up higher, arms jerking back and forth harder than they were before. You saw her duck behind a tree and then she was out of your line of sight. Part of you was comforted by that, but that relief was quickly extinguished when something smacked into your back and you quickly hit the ground. You scraped your chin when you landed, letting out a small cry of pain as you wriggled in the net you found yourself trapped in.

There was a tug, and you were being dragged back towards Micheal and the other apes. The Gorilla above you huffed and snarled as you continued to struggle, raising a leg and kicking you in the stomach. You groaned, curing in on yourself as another gorilla on a horse approached.

The gorilla holding you pointed towards where Eden had been, “Find the human and their nest, take the ones who speak…kill the rest.”

Eden was going to lead them home, and there was nothing you could do about it. You felt tears start streaming down your face, as the ape holding you sniffed loudly, throwing you next to Micheal, another ape gripping the closure of the net. The larger ape growled, “Weak human…bleeding…stinks.”

The ape above you seemed to huff in agreement, and as awful as this was, you were relieved that Micheal had escaped the slaughter. You were happy he was here with you. You actively avoided looking at his brother laying on the ground next to you as you thought this.

…

The two of you were thrown across a horse, a chimp walking alongside it as you tried to track where you were and where they were taking the two of you. You were separated from Micheal when you arrived to the ape settlement. It was built on the side of a cliff, apes working on a large wooden fence around the front. As you rode in you noticed they were taking you off to the left, but taking Micheal all the way to the back. Neither of you said anything, knowing that if one of you had the chance to escape you would do so, and maybe send help for the other.

There was a crude room made from a small stone alcove in the rocks. You were taken out of the net and thrown in, rolling on the ground from the unexpected force. You didn’t try to run, the colony of gorillas overflowing, it would only be a few steps before you were caught. A makeshift door of bamboo was shut behind you, leaving you in the small space to explore alone. You decided to bide your time and look around for anything that could be useful to you. A large nest of leaves and furs was off to the side, some baskets filled with fruits, and other random odds and ends were scattered around the room. Nothing you could use at present. You tried to not look too closely at the bones that were scattered on the floor, deciding it didn’t matter if they were human or not as long as they weren’t yours.

The larger gorilla from earlier slammed open the door then, ground shaking as he made his way towards you. There was nowhere for you to go, but still you tried to back up as far away as you could from him. In seconds, your back was against the stone of the cave as the gorilla closed the distance between the two of you. You refused to cower, but you did freeze in place. His height was staggering, standing on all fours but his eyes were level with yours. Only then did you realize that looking him in the eye was a mistake, watching as he yanked you by your ankle.

You hit the ground hard, attempting to catch yourself on your elbows before he dragged you half under him. You tried not to cry or scream, thinking it would only aggravate the ape further. He jerked on your limbs, pulling you this way and that, then grabbing you by the neck. He pulled you close, taking a deep whiff before throwing you back to the ground. Your skull practically bounced off the stone below you and you whimpered, clutching at the back of your head.

This seemed to catch the gorilla’s attention, seizing you now by the hair and using it to pull you into a standing position. He chose to stand on two legs now, raising you up with him, and you barley dangled on your tip toes in order not to have all of your weight hanging my your head.

“You can make noise,” the gorilla snarled. “No point in having you if you don’t. Understand human?”

You whined, still struggling against his hold, “Yes! Please let go, it hurts!”

The gorilla made a satisfied noise, yanking up once very hard before dropping you entirely. You couldn’t help it, you collapsed onto your hands and knees while tears fell from your eyes. The pain was overwhelming, feeling like your skull was on fire, and you sobbed in fear as the gravity of your situation finally set in. Your body began to shake, the air you gasped into your lungs getting more and more shallow no matter how deep a breath you took. The ape circled you the entire time, intently watching your reaction.

“You are young,” he commented. “Will get much use out of you if you do as you are told.”

You tried to quiet your noises, tried to focus on his words. He made a fist as he raised his arm, and you yelped, wrapping your arms around your head. The ape hooted in delight, “You are smart…that is good. You will refer to me as Gol. Understood?”

“Y-yes.” You stuttered, slowly dropping your arms.

Gol reached for you again, grabbing you by the neck and hauling you up. You dangled in the air once more, feet kicking as you felt his grip close around your throat. Both hands scratched across his arm for any sort of purchase, attempting to hold yourself up to pull any amount of air you could get into your lungs. He watched you struggle before explaining, “You will come when I call, you will stay where I put you, and you will eat when I give you food. You will do what I say without question or hesitation. Do you understand?”

You nodded, gasping, “Yes!”

“Yes, what?” He huffed.

“Yes, Gol!” You practically spat in an effort to get the words out.

He dropped you to your feet then, not giving you a chance to catch your breath as he grabbed your hair, leading you by it like it was a leash. You were marched through the settlement by his unrelenting grasp until you reached the human cages. A door was opened for Gol by a chimp, then you were thrown in. You scrambled on your hands and feet before the door was promptly slammed in your face. You sniffled, watching as the apes hooted and chuffed before leaving you alone.

Not entirely alone

You heard a deep sigh behind you and saw Micheal crouching in the back of the cage. Though your body was sore and you were pretty sure your chin was still bleeding, you ran to him. He opened his arms and allowed you to collapse in them, sinking to the ground with you as you remained wrapped in each other. He tried to soothe you as you cried, but there was nothing he could tell you that would fix this. His brothers were dead, and Eden was leading the other apes to your home.

Home…you wanted to go home

As if hearing your thoughts Micheal squeezed you tighter, whispering, “I know…but we have to be smart. We will not be here forever. We will not die here. We just have to bide our time. Trust me, I promise you’ll get to go home.”

You wiped the tears from your eyes, burying your face in the warmth of his chest and the comfort of his smell. You trusted him, as long as he survived you would too. You would live for each other in hopes of making it out of here alive. Who knows, there were a few mechanical weapons in the vault, maybe Eden made it before the apes could stop her. Maybe your parents were planning a rescue mission as you sat here.

Micheal called your name then, forcing you to look up. He kissed the top of your head, holding you closer, “As fucked up as this is…and as much as I wish you weren’t, I’m really happy you’re here with me.”

You nodded, tucking your head back into his chest. Your fingers dug into his shirt, swallowing hard before you started, “I’m sorry about-”

“Don’t.” He interrupted you, “Just…don’t. Not yet. Have your breakdown now, I’ll have mine later.”

You hiccuped then, “I’ll be there for you when you do.”

He smiled then, genuinely, smoothing his fingers through your hair as you clung to each other, “Thank you.”

….

You had lost track of time, how long you had been here…but now you remembered with painful clarity. There were two things that you were sure of. The first, your home was either never found, or everyone there was killed. You woke up anxious every morning for days, weeks, but you never saw anyone from your vault brought to the settlement. The second, is that you were a year older. You had been taken in the early summer, and summer was once again upon you.

You had been here for over a year. You and Micheal had saved each others lives more times than you could count; sharing food and water, keeping each other warm during the freezing days of winter, sharing pain when punishment was inflicted…and in your case, it was inflicted a lot. You were more aware now of how tired you were, how wrong your body felt compared to how it had been. Even Micheal was not unaffected, he could no longer string a bow, even if he was ordered to. Both of you it seemed could barely carry more than your body weight.

Gol had stopped by your cage today, yanking you out while another gorilla gathered Micheal. For the first time since the two of you arrived, you were separated. You couldn’t do anything about that though, worrying for your own safety when Gol brought you back into his room. There was a large basket in the center of the room, steam billowing out of it. You thought it was food for a moment, disappointed as you approached it to find only water.

Gol grabbed your hair, as he was accustomed to, forcing you to your knees as you cried out in pain. Nowadays the pain blended into itself, to the point you were almost numb, almost couldn’t feel it. The rub was, if you didn’t reassure him that you were hurt by his actions, he would be sure to be rougher with you until he got the reaction he wanted. He grabbed a ragged piece of cloth nearby, dunking it into the water before ringing it out above your head. The water was too hot, causing you to hiss, lurching forward and away from him, your fingers running through your hair to try to alleviate the burning feeling. You didn’t mean to do it, but your scrambling away from Gol and the hot water was a mistake you hadn’t rectified quick enough.

This angered Gol, who let out a roar before grabbing you by the ankle and yanking you back to him. His hand came down and hit you hard across the head, dazing you for a moment as you tasted blood. He had split your lip. At the faintest smell of blood the Gorilla growled his irritation, “Stinking human. Even more vile with that smell on you now. You should be grateful the water is warm. I should throw you in the river like last time.”

The memory caused your body to be wracked by chills, recalling late last winter, just before spring, when you had gotten your monthly. Gol usually ignored it or ignored you until it was done, but something about this one set him on edge. He had opened your cage and dragged you from the settlement, Micheal following after you but too weak to do much about it. Gol had thrown you, clothes and all, into the river to “purge himself of your smell.” You had nearly just stayed underwater, the cold getting to you and the will for air nowhere in sight as you imagined what you had to go back to.

A moment later Micheal had dove in after you. Stark naked, he pulled you out of the river, both of you shaking. Gol had sniffed once and deemed you acceptable enough to return. Micheal quickly stripped you of your clothes, as if you were a child, while you both followed Gol back. He wore his pants, but as he carried your wet clothes he forced you to put on his dry, warm shirt. It barely kept your modesty, but it wasn’t wet or cold. It was enough. Neither of you spoke about you staying under for that long; Micheal didn’t want to believe you would leave him, and you were too ashamed to admit that for a moment you were ready to.

The shame of the memory flooded you, forcing you to find your voice, “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

Gol threw the rag at you, stepping overtop and away from you then before sitting in his nest. He huffed as he studied his most recent trinket he had found on a scouting mission, ordering, “Strip and wash yourself. Do not put your old clothes back on.”

You swallowed and did as he said, mumbling, “Yes, Gol.”

Though you were two different species you still turned your back to him then, every nerve ending in your body becoming a live wire as you sensed the danger behind you. You did enjoy the warmth of the water once it had time to cool, but you did not languish in its comforts, wanting to be done as soon as possible so you could put on fresh clothes.

When you finished, you stood, trying not to hold yourself in a way that showed that you were uncomfortable. Gol glanced at you before rising from his nest, ordering you to follow him. You felt shame well up inside of you as he paraded you back to your cage, jaw clenched as you imagined how many ways you could kill the ape if you only had a weapon. Micheal was already there, also missing his clothes. You both took one look at each other, before quickly glancing away, and pieced together exactly what it was the apes were plotting. Gol shut the door behind you and walked away. Oddly enough, the apes had been avoiding the human enclosures completely today, and now you knew why.

It was early summer, warm enough that there was no chill, but still you felt your skin pebble. Micheal called you then. His back was plastered to the wall of your enclosure, legs and arms spread as he looked away. His eyes were closed for good measure, motioning for you to come sit. He held the only blanket in one hand and you moved without hesitation to sit between his legs, trying to avoid looking at him too out of courtesy. He wrapped the blanket around both of you then, using your back pressed close to his chest to pin a corner in place, doing the same with his back and the wall.

For once, he seemed just as nervous as you. You could feel his heart beat ricocheting against his chest. He blew out a ragged breath, leaning his head back as you curled in to make yourself as small as possible. You felt him swallow, his heart rate slowly lowering until it was back to its normal rhythm. Then there was just silence.

After what felt like an eternity, both of you sitting there, waiting for something to happen, you felt Micheal shift closer to you. He leaned in to whisper discreetly in your ear, “We have a choice to make. Their way, or our way. One way or the other, I need you to trust me.”

You looked up at him then, his mouth set in a harsh line and his eyes stone cold. You reached for his hand under the blanket, squeezing once before admitting, “You know I do.”

“Good. Try to sleep for now,” he whispered. “You’ll need your rest.”

What he was asking wasn’t difficult, no sooner had you closed your eyes did you feel yourself being nudged awake for dinner. In some cosmic joke, both of you were given fresh fruit and fish for dinner. Clean water too. You were shocked, but Micheal was not. He made sure you both ate your fill, hiding an apple and an orange in the folds of his blanket. When the apes returned to take your trough away they leered at the two of you before hooting to each other.

You sneered at the retreating apes, “Apparently, it doesn’t matter what species, all men are pigs.”

“Hey,” Micheal chuckled. “I’ve been nothing but a gentlemen this entire time.”

You scoffed, “You’re the exception, not the rule.”

“That’s more like it.” He teased before becoming serious once more, “Are you ready? We’re moving in about five minutes.”

“Shouldn’t we wait a bit longer?” You asked. “That seems so soon after they just gave us food and water.”

Micheal shook his head, “They left us alone all day with the exception of our baths. They think the privacy will help, so I say we use it against them. It’s already dark, they’re all at the bonfire. No one will come to check on us until sunrise, and we need to use every second we have.”

You nodded, “Alright.”

And true to his word, Micheal was slowly easing two bamboo bars away from where they were spiked into the ground. You were surprised he was able to do it, but he showed you where he had been secretly bending them for weeks to make it weaker. He held it open while you slipped through, then he slipped out backwards himself. He held it as long as he could before slowly releasing it. It snapped back into place and you marveled at his strength, noticing how winded he was from the effort.

“I thought…” you began to say but stopped yourself. “Have you always been this strong?”

Micheal sighed, “More or less, it depends on the day. I couldn’t show the apes that or they would have worked me to death. Can’t say the lie didn’t weaken me still.”

He turned to you then, wrapping the blanket around you. He tied the material in strategic places, ripping and tearing where he needed to so you were covered, but still had full mobility. He used the excess at the bottom to craft a makeshift carrier to hold the apple and orange from earlier. He tied it around your wrist, and just as you wondered why you couldn’t hold it he explained, “We’re going to be climbing, you’ll need both hands.”

You blanched, eyes huge as you hissed, “You intend to scale down the mountain in the dark, barefoot, and naked?”

“Yes,” he said with confidence. “It’s our best chance. I’ll go first and you’ll follow my footholds.”

As you two made it to the edge you glared at him, “You are actively insane.”

He swallowed, “I hope so, because if I wasn’t I don’t think this would work.”

There was just enough moonlight for you to see Micheal, watching carefully as he began to descend. Once he was down a few feet he stopped, holding himself up and motioning for you to follow. The strain on your arms was nearly unbearable, but the idea of freedom forced you to keep your limbs locked and straight. One foot after the other, hand over hand, just don’t look down. You repeated it like a mantra, stopping when he told you to and continuing when he told you to.

After what felt like an eternity, you heard Micheal hit solid ground. You felt your heart kick up and butterflies surge in your stomach. Just as you reached the bottom you felt Micheal’s hands brace you. You let go and allowed him to catch the rest of you. You could have screamed with joy, looking up at the cliff for a moment before turning your attention to Micheal. His brown eyes were shining with happy tears, both of you letting out a few breathy laughs. You embraced then, only for a moment, before Micheal grabbed your hand and set off in a dash to the surrounding woods.

You weren’t sure where you were going, or if he knew where he was leading you two until you came to the river. That was perfect! You could cross and follow it back home, even though you were downstream you knew this river and its path home like the back of your hand. Micheal was a genius!

You turned to tell him as much, when you noticed him picking up a rock from the ground. He examined it closely before rinsing it in the river.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tilting your head in confusion as you stared at the rock in his hand.

He looked at you then, eyes sorrowful, whispering, “I made a promise.”

He dug the rock into the palm of his left hand then sliced it, letting blood run down his wrist and into the grass at your feet. He hissed, dropping the rock and clutching his closed palm.

“What are you doing?” You nearly screamed, remembering to keep your voice low.

He smiled sadly, “Making sure you get home. Why do you think I made sure you were the one covered, and had food?”

You looked down now at yourself then to him, tears prickling your eyes, “You promised we wouldn’t die here, you promised we’d go home together.”

“I have no intention of dying,” he smirked. “But sometimes things are out of our control. It’s almost dawn, I need you to cross the river while I lead the blood trail as far downstream as I can. If I can evade them until noon then I’ll cross and backtrack. If all goes well I’ll get home a day or two after you.”

Tears were streaming down your face now, Micheal pulling you in for a hug, making sure to avoid getting blood on your blanket. You reached up then, grabbing his face in your hands and looking at him. It may be the last time you would be able to do so. With that thought spurring you on, your brought your mouths together in a clash of lips and teeth. It wasn’t perfect, but it was hungry and full of promise. Truthfully, it was a first for you both.

You felt his uninjured hand cup the back of your head, pulling you in closer as the two of you breathed each other in. You broke apart for air, taking a few real breaths before he leaned forward again. It was softer this time, his lips melting into yours as he brought your bodies together. Your hands wrapped around his neck and you felt heat pool in your stomach, mouth falling open as he deepened the kiss.

He groaned in the back of his throat, as if sensing your excitement, but ultimately pulled away. You both were panting, and he had to stop you from leaning in again, tears drying against your cheeks. His pupils were so dark they nearly suffocated the brown, and when he leaned down you thought he would kiss you again. Hell, by the way he grasped onto you, you thought he would take you right here. Instead, he surprised you, choosing to rest his head against yours. His body swayed into yours a moment, and rocked back with you as you pressed firmly into him. You felt the nails and heat of his right hand biting into the flesh of your hip through the blanket, his hold firm but not painful. When had it moved to your hip?

He let out an aggravated groan then, harshly kissing the top of your head, before gently pushing you away, “You need to go. I’ll see you at home in a day or two.”

You took a deep breath, swallowing your heartache as you took a step back. He was still breathing raggedly, nails now biting into his crossed arms. He was holding himself back by the barest of threads. You couldn’t ignore that, respecting his restraint as you slowly made your way into the water. You saw Micheal bend down and wipe his bleeding hand along the ground, away from the edge of the water. He straightened, pushing out more blood before wiping the red streak across his chest.

He noticed your hesitation, a cocky smile taking over his features, which would have seemed more natural on Erik or Kieran as he admitted, “Just so you know, in different circumstances, no one else around, I wouldn’t have hesitated. Even now, you still drive me crazy.”

You felt a blush tint your cheeks, confessing, “Just so you know…I love you. I would have married you in different circumstances.”

True fire lit up his eyes then, a joyous noise coming out in a rush as he pointed his injured hand at you, “You remember in two days that you said that! I’ll come home to you if it’s the last thing I do. If some beast manages to get me before then, I’ll find you in our next life.”

A watery laugh escaped you then, “You still believe in reincarnation?”

“I have to now, don’t I?” He countered, “It’s the only way I’ll be able to marry you more than once.”

You giggled, feeling a chill run up your spine as silence engulfed the two of you. You swallowed, whispering, “I have to go now.”

Micheal hummed, “You do, before dawn breaks. Please, be safe. I love you.”

You nodded dumbly, turning then and diving into the water. The current was strong, but you didn’t fight it, allowing it to carry you as you crossed. When you made it to the bank on the opposite side you crawled until you hit stable ground. It took effort to lift your body from the mud, but you managed. Once you were standing again, you turned to look for Micheal. He had followed you along the edge of the bank on the opposite side, giving a small wave before continuing down stream. You waved back weakly, tears flowing again as a sob threatened to escape your mouth. You choked it down, smothering any noise as you turned towards the woods. You walked in the opposite direction, just as he told you to do, hoping that home was still where you had left it. And, if it wasn’t, you hoped that it would find you in two days.

….

You wiped a tear from your face, scrubbing at your cheek slightly before turning your attention back to Noa. His mouth was slightly open, lips pursed, fingers fidgeting with each other. He looked as sad as you felt. He was true to his word, staying silent through your retelling. He also didn’t rush to say anything after, which you appreciated. You needed this reprieve now that you re-opened that wound. Could you bleed out from emotional pain? At the moment, burying your head into your arms, it felt like it was possible.

Noa moved his arm, as if he was going to comfort you, but thought better of it, pulling it back to his side.

You gasped in a breath, “When I started to recognize where I was on the river, I took off and didn’t stop until I reached home. I had never run so fast in my life…except for maybe the day we met. I found out the gorillas did attack the vault, trying to take people, but were ultimately killed. No survivors were able to report back where the vault was. We lost a lot of people though….my friend, she didn’t make it. I left with my mother a week later. We travelled for months until we settled here. That was about four years ago. She mainly built this place. I helped, but she was the one who thought of everything.”

“Where is…mother?” Noa asked, hand raising under his chin to correspond the sign with the word.

You felt the tears spring forward again, and you looked up to try to stop them from falling. You let out a shaky breath, “One step at a time…I’ll tell you about her some other day, I don’t have it in me right now. She meant...she means so much to me.”

Noa looked down then, something you said striking a nerve in him. He fiddled with the band on his arm, avoiding your eyes. A long sigh came from his nose, his hand coming up in a very human way to rub and hold his brow. His voice was rough as he spoke, “The Echo male…why is he…not here?”

You paused, wishing the words you were about to say were different. “He never came home.”

Noa kept his gaze from you still as he whispered, “I am sorry.”

You hummed in return. What else could you say? You waited for him as long as you could, but ultimately you couldn’t stay there. Your mother knew it too, which is why you both made the selfish decision to leave, sneaking away during the cover of night. You sat up then, pulling your jacket back to you from where it rested on the bed. It had been your mother’s, which she gave to you during the cooler nights of your journey. She never seemed to get cold, though in hindsight she had probably just put your needs before hers, hiding any cold or discomfort from you. You weren’t exactly present during the first half of your journey, just a shell at that point. Living as if life was a dream and nothing mattered. You wished now you could remember those earlier days, showed more appreciation for your mother while she was alive. She had given up everything for you.

Noa sniffed, pointing to the jacket in your hand, “Clothes are…important to Echo?”

You had to smirk, Noa thought it was a safe question to ask. You nodded, “Mhm. They keep us warm, and safe from the outside elements. This belonged to my mother, but now that she’s gone, it belongs to me.”

“Why were your…clothes taken?” Noa asked, lips curling up slightly in what you supposed was confusion or irritation. “After so long…sounded like…there was a purpose…do not understand.”

You bit the inside of your mouth, trying to think how best to respond. Of course Noa wouldn’t understand shame or modesty, it was inherently human after all. You decided to just spit out the ugly truth of the situation, not having a good way to sugar coat it, “The gorillas were trying to get us to reproduce…for whatever reason. Obviously, humans don’t have fur like apes, so clothes not only cover our bodies but our sexes too. Usually, if we remove that barrier in front of someone of the opposite sex, it’s a signal that we want to…mate, I suppose is the word you would use?”

Noa’s gaze finally returned, eyes piercing into yours as he asked, “What word…would you use?”

You shrugged, “We have a few words, I guess it depends on the intent. If it’s for reproduction, which in this case it would have been, then it would be called sex. If it’s with a partner, someone you care about and just want to be with, it’s called love making.”

“Partner…” Noa hesitated. “Is mate?”

“Not necessarily,” you responded. You were grateful for the brief interlude into human customs, even though the subject would have been considered wildly inappropriate with anyone else. “A wife, or in my case, a husband would be the term for a partner that I’d be with for life. A partner in general, can be anyone.”

Noa thought for a moment, “Partner can be…someone who is courting you? Not ma- husband…not husband?”

“Right,” you chuckled. The old English term was rather endearing, though humans preferred the more modern term of dating. Noa didn’t need to know that part, you liked courting better.

Noa looked to the fire then, gaze distant as he allowed his mind to wander with everything you said. You took that moment to enjoy the silence once more. Your next breath was deep, and the air felt cleaner, lighter. The weight of your past had been lifted, even if it didn’t last until morning. Just telling Noa, having him listen and show empathy as you shared your pain, momentarily healed some fractured piece inside of you. In a strange twist, you found yourself wanting to reach out to him now. The sudden pull was undeniable.

“Noa?” You called, getting his attention.

He turned to you then, grunting in response. You reached your hand out then, stopping just an inch or so away from his hand, looking for permission. Surprise was clear in his gaze, looking between your eyes and your hands, so close together but not quite touching. He hooted softly, raising his slightly closed hand, knuckles brushing against yours before you turned your palm, sliding it under his to gently grasp his wrist. His fingers twitched against your skin before you felt him mimic your hold.

For the first time, you noticed his eyes were not focused on yours, trained instead on your joined hands. He tilted his head, turning his arm slightly too in order to get a closer look at what he was holding. He had probably never seen a human up close like this before, his other hand rising to trace the details of your fingers. Your slightly crooked pinky was a moment of interest to him, then the webbing of skin between your fingers, before he moved on to the small scar on the top of your middle knuckle.

While he was focused on exploring your skin, you took the time to study his face unencumbered. You noticed all the muscles there that shifted under the weight of each new thought and emotion. How could one ape be so expressive? Mouth, jaw, and brow just seemed to be an extension of his gaze. He was an open book now that you could see close enough. Confusion, intrigue, and the desire to learn more, all written there, burning within his eyes. Now, it was reflected in his touch as well. You had to fight the urge to laugh as he brushed against the small hairs on your arm, seeming to take interest in the fact you did have hair that was not on your head. You let him continue, wanting the moment to last a bit longer.

You realized this was the first time you had voluntarily let him touch you, and sought out to touch him in return, since the river. This strange truth took you by surprise. That couldn’t be right, thinking back to all of your interactions, but coming up with nothing. Riding together would have been the closest you could think of, but even then it wasn’t necessarily voluntary. It had been out of forced proximity. Maybe that’s where it had started? You couldn’t deny the warmth of his hand, the strange feel of his skin compared to yours was like a balm. It soothed something deep inside of you. Or, maybe that was just Noa. Even that first day you met, when you had invited him back to your shelter, you sensed there was something different about him. It’s like you recognized it subconsciously, some strange likeness in him that called out to you.

Whatever it was, you were grateful for it now. You couldn’t bring your voice above a whisper as you admitted, “I’m glad you’re here with me. It was nice not to wake up alone…even if it did startle me at first. Thank you for bringing me back, and thank you for listening to me. It strangely felt…good, to say it all out loud.”

Noa’s mouth pressed in a thin line, eyes traveling from your hands, up your arm to your shoulder. They paused briefly at your neck before jerking to your face. You felt his thumb twitch against your wrist, next to your pulse, before he said, “You saved me…after your history with apes…means more now…than before…thank you…will always be here…if you need me.”

You couldn’t lie, throat tight as you confessed, “You shouldn’t think so highly of me because of that. I had no plans to save you. The truth is I don’t know or understand why I did it. I saw you fighting for your life and I just…reacted.”

Noa’s grip tightened a fraction, his gaze reflecting something similar to clarity. It was if a great weight had been lifted from his mind. That’s when his eyes lowered, his free hand smoothing over the top of yours, trailing up to your forearm before sliding back down. You watched in rapt fascination, the graceful movement of his hand as he did it again. You thought he would say something, but he didn’t, seemingly too focused on the moment. Too focused on his hand going up your arm, then back down. He didn’t seem angry or upset about your telling him the truth, so you took comfort in that. That’s when you felt your thumb, clasped loosely around his wrist, start to mimic his hand, sweeping up and down in that same soothing manner. The hair there tickled your skin as you moved it.

His eyes were never wary of yours, but you noticed a flitting back and forth between your stare and your stroking hands. It was contemplative, but soft at the same time. You both continued to just watch your hands move, easing into the actions of the other. He continued his hypnotic back and forth movement, causing a contented sigh to be released from you. The next time he caught your now drowsy stare, the right side of his lips curved upwards. Your mouth parted slightly, breath caught in the back of your throat as your heart skipped a beat. It all fell apart for you then; suddenly feeling too intimate as you continued to sit, touching Noa, in silence. You broke eye contact, looking down as you stopped moving, very slowly and gently pulling your arm from his grip. He noticed your discomfort immediately, releasing you just as gently.

Always so careful with you. Always allowing you to decide when to pull away.

He brought his hands slowly back to his lap, and you brought yours to your chest. You felt your heart pounding against your palms, and you wondered when that had started. You felt the tension in the space rise, your eyes sliding back up trepidatiously to meet Noa’s. There was that intensity again…and you wished you knew what he was thinking

“Jumbled.” Noa finally said.

You saw his mouth move, but didn’t quite hear the word over the sound of your pulse in your ears, “What?”

Noa made that same gesture he had at the library, hand to his chest, “Inside…jumbled spirit.”

You scoffed, trying to lighten the mood, “I killed a boar today, and I’ll give you the fact I hit the pavement like a rag doll, but I’m not jumbled, Noa.”

“Yesterday,” he corrected, smiling now. You rolled your eyes playfully before he continued, “You feel alone…even when you are not…do not want to be touched…but enjoy when you receive affection…scared of apes…but care about Anaya and Soona.”

“And you,” you added unintentionally. The way it rolled so naturally off your tongue surprised you.

Noa chuffed, grinning triumphantly, “See?…How can you be scared…and care at the same time?”

You leaned back against the stone ledge, shrugging, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because humans are complicated and capable of complex thoughts and feelings?”

Noa turned his head away from you, making a gesture you didn’t understand as he blew out air from his mouth. It felt like a natural response to you being cheeky though. When he turned back he pointed at your chest, “I fix jumble…you teach to read odd sounding…book.”

You tilted your head then, “Are you trying to make a deal with me?”

“No,” Noa huffed, arms crossing. “You have no say…this is what I have…decided.”

“You do realize I was going to teach you to read anyway?” You laughed.

Noa hummed, “Yes…but now I…give back.”

He was always giving back

“Ah,” you said. “And how exactly do you plan to fix the jumble?”

He moved from his sitting position then, standing in a crouch to offer you both of his hands, “Will let you know…when I figure it out…one step…at a time Echo.”

You chuckled in the back of your throat, hesitating only a moment before taking his hands. At first, you expected a swift jerk or a harsh pull upwards, but instead you felt his grip shift. He was carful of your palms, holding the backs of your hands and your wrists now as he carefully pulled you towards him. You were able to keep both feet under you, and Noa merely braced your weight as you pushed yourself to stand, making sure you were stable before releasing you all together. At times like these, you appreciated the intense focus he seemed to have around you, for it allowed him to notice the smaller details you wouldn’t normally think of yourself.

Noa looked down towards the ground for a moment, brows furrowed, then at his still open hands in front of him, before mentioning, “You have never denied…an offer…to touch you.”

“What?” The suddenness of the statement confused you.

Noa stretched out his hand then, as if to demonstrate, “When I offer…you take…when I ask… you agree…you are not afraid when I touch you…when you know I will.”

You shrugged, “I suppose, but that only makes sense. I’m expecting it.”

Noa shook his head then, arms mirroring the motion, a strange look in his eye as he tried to explain, “Ape touch…my touch…not bad.”

“Noa.” You tried to follow, to understand what he was saying, but he was either too excited or he didn’t fully comprehend what he was trying to say either. “I know you have no intentions to hurt me. I know that, but I can’t help my reactions sometimes when-”

“You do not dislike…when I touch you.” Noa interrupted, and it somehow sounded both like a question and a statement.

You licked your lips then, finally understanding what he meant. Your eyes darted to his palms before returning to his face. You shook your head, “I don’t dislike it.”

The admission made heat rush to your cheeks, even though it was an innocent statement. Noa hummed then, swaying slightly as he took a step away from you. You felt your next breath come in a bit easier. He picked up your spear from the ground, where he had been sitting earlier, leaning it against the rock of the cave before saying, “We will start there…build on that.”

The heat did not dissipate from your cheeks from his words, your mind adding fuel to the fire as you imagined multiple ways “building on that” could go. You choked down the heat enough to steady your voice as you asked, “Are you leaving?”

Noa turned then, smirk playing on his lips and brow raising, “Want me…to stay?”

How in the hell were you meant to answer that?! You were sure for a moment your brain stopped working as you attempted to process his words. As if sensing your turmoil, Noa shuffled in place, huffing, “Must return…time approaches for…Great Climb of the season...as Master of Birds I have…much to do.”

You nodded, not quite understanding, but appreciating that he saved you from further embarrassment. You cleared your throat then, legs stiff as you took a few steps towards him, “I’ll walk you out.”

Noa waited for you to be next to him before he took another step towards the exit. You walked out first, watching comically as he had to bend at the waist to get out. He eyed your entrance, wondering, “You will…be able to move rock…now and later?”

You sighed, “Probably not, I’m going to close it half way, nothing should be able to get in that way and I can still slip out if I need to.”

“Sore?” He asked.

“Very,” you half laughed. “It was an…eventful day. Not sure if I can say that it was a good or bad one though. When you aren’t so busy with preparations, we’ll start your reading lessons. So, let me know, okay?”

“Tomorrow,” Noa said confidently, swaying slightly closer to you. “After midday.”

His eagerness did not surprise you, smiling, “Alright. Tomorrow, midday. The three of you can meet me by the creek. Same place as usual.”

He nodded, glancing over to his horse, whose tail was swishing back and forth in irritation at being tied up for so long. Noa returned his attention to you then, sighing, “Be safe…will see you…tomorrow.”

“You be safe as well, it’s dark.” You stated the obvious, internally kicking yourself before giving a small wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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justheblueberry · 10 months

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handbinding of A Study in Scarlette by kittebasu

There are people who want to live forever, and then there is Shinichi, who just wants to live a little longer than this.

this bind has been in my head since i first read the fic like, three years ago. i dreamed up so many ideas for it, for so long, and now it's finally done! the typeset was actually done in early 2022, back when i was still using google docs, but it went through a few iterations because i was just. so. fiddly. with every aspect of this book. it needed to be perfect (as close to perfect as i, an amateur bookbinder out of my depth, can get) and it had to be absolutely over the top, to reflect the insane amount of love and care that the author put into the fic itself.

the first time i read this fic, i barely knew what detective conan was, much less all of the intricate plot details; i was just along for the ride, but by the end i was completely invested. i went back and watched through the anime as well as a few movies (it took me six months) and then read the fic again. and then a few more times. kaishin and the world of dcmk has utterly gripped me. it's 100% this fic's fault and i love it so, so, much.

i went through a few iterations of visual designs and i'm really happy with the little details i managed to squeeze in.

the entire color scheme is based around red, because 1) it's a murder mystery, 2) for scarlette shinamoto (and the title of the fic as well as the original holmes novel it references), and 3) the irony of "lady red" actually being red. the secret fourth reason is that i think red/gold is a super sexy color combo.

i sewed the textblock with red thread to reference holmes' "scarlet thread of murder".

another detail i love is the five yen coin bookmark, it was one of my first ideas and it turned out even better than i thought.

i wanted the endpapers to evoke a sense of the white marbled floor of the ballroom, with the glow-in-the-dark kaitou kid caricature being the luminol on the floor, and the little pops of red looks like blood that's been mixed in. i lucked out in that the other side of the endpaper was like a lavender-purpley color, i like to think of it as a little wink wink nudge to the color of the actual Lady Red.

the chapter pages got a few reworkings, but i'm happy with the illustrations i ended up doing for each of them. the chapter titles are one of my favorite things about the fic, each one has so much meaning packed into it and flows so beautifully, and i wanted to put as much care into making them pop as possible.

the cover was a linocut carving i designed and carved, which i then printed onto the bookcloth, and ironed on htv on top.

i also threw in a couple of my drawings of my favorite scenes.

this is getting way too long, so i'll end it here. i'll have a separate post detailing the process every step of the way, if anyone wants to take a closer look. this fic is kind of directly responsible for getting me into fanbinding, so it's safe to say it altered the course of my life. i now spend way too much time (and money) looking at book stuff.

kittebasu, if, somehow, you see this and would like an author copy, i would be honored to make one and ship it to you; i would be overjoyed to gift you with any art i have the ability to make, because the fics you wrote have irreversibly altered my brain chemistry, and being able to give back in any capacity would be a dream. (thank you.)

a few postscripts:

i am not selling any copies of this fic. partially because i believe in the gift economy of fandom as well as firmly keeping fanbinding a hobby that will stay unmonetized, but also because it took me months (years, if we are counting when i first finished the typeset) to finish this and i do not have the strength.

however, if you are also a fan of this fic and would like a copy, i honestly, fervently, encourage you to give fanbinding a try! renegade publishing and its discord server are an absolutely wonderful and free resource. i knew nothing about bookbinding and had zero materials when i first started, but i've learned so much thanks to the lovely people there. if you're still apprehensive about getting started, i'd be willing to share my typeset of this fic as well as answer any questions about the making of this book if you DM me.

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burnednotburied · 4 months

Text

Chapter 5: The Aquarium

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas; sorry (but not that sorry) to any Owen fans, but he’s kinda a huge asshole in this

Note: I added chapter titles and finally figured out exactly where I’m going with this story lol. Hooray for having a plan!!

(Sorry it took more than two weeks to get this chapter out! End-of-semester craziness, ya know? I hope this chapter being like twice as long as usual makes up for it!)

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Abby realized too late that she probably should’ve warned you about the life-sized whales on the ceiling.

By the look on your face, she could tell you’ve never seen anything like it.

Which made sense. She hadn’t either before she and Owen found this place three years ago.

She paused to watch you for just a second, taking in your amazed expression as you marveled at the enormous hanging sea creatures above you.

Abby could easily remember what her first time here was like. How incredible and other-worldly this place felt. She imagined it must be even more overwhelming for you, this fractured piece of a world you were not a part of and knew little about. A world where humans built a place where they could go to look at fish for no reason other than that it was entertaining. A world where people did things just for fun.

Of course, Abby had also never been a part of that world, but at least she knew about it. She’d caught glimpses of it, carefully and intentionally gathering bits and pieces. She watched films and documentaries. She read novels and history books, newspapers and magazines if she could find them.

Knowledge was power. And, to Abby, having power was important. Having power meant being able to keep the people she cared about safe.

And if you had enough power, no one could ever take it away from you.

So she dedicated herself to becoming powerful, both of mind and of body. It’s all she had known and cared about since she lost her dad.

It’s why she lost Owen.

She still wasn’t sure if that had been a good thing or a bad thing, but she knew she felt guilty about it.

Three years ago, Owen had quickly claimed the aquarium as his own. He cleaned it up, made it feel as homey as possible, and spent as much time here as he could get away with. Abby didn’t tell anyone, not even the rest of the Salt Lake crew. It was right around the time they were breaking up. She felt like she owed him her discretion at the very least. Not that it really made up for anything.

Yesterday morning, when Nora told Abby that Owen was missing, she assumed he’d come here.

God, she hoped she was right.

Abby shifted the injured Yara in her arms, her muscles burning from carrying the girl for so long.

It was early in the morning now. The sun had just begun to rise as the four of you had been making your way into the aquarium.

“Owen!” she shouted, leading the way down one of the hallways off the main entrance. Abby thought he would most likely be out on the boat, either sleeping or continuing in his never-ending attempts to get the thing in working order.

“Owen!” she called out again. “Owen! Are you here?”

She paused for a moment, listening. Nothing.

“Owen—”

“I’m here.” She heard his voice just before he rounded the corner, stopping short when he saw the whole group of you. “Are those Scars?” he asked, genuinely surprised and definitely confused as hell.

Abby ignored the question. “I need whatever medical supplies you have.”

Before Owen could respond, Alice came barreling around the corner, barking aggressively at the perceived enemies.

The next few seconds were chaotic to say the least.

You screamed and jumped back. Lev reacted quickly, his bow drawn and an arrow notched.

“Alice, no!” Abby yelled out.

Owen grabbed for the German Shepherd, holding her back as she continued to lunge forward, trying to attack.

“Put the bow down! It’s okay!” Abby shouted.

Owen gripped the dog’s harness tightly. “Put that down!”

“Alice, shut up! Lev, put the bow down!”

“Alice, stop—Abby, what the fuck?!”

“Lev, listen to them! Put it down!” you insisted, putting a hand on his shoulder as you tried to push him behind you.

All of this happened simultaneously, muffled by the sound of deafening, echoing barking.

“Alice!” a new voice, one that Abby knew belonged to Mel, shouted. To her, the dog listened, sitting down obediently with one final bark.

Mel stood next to Owen and Alice, staring.

There was a moment of silence.

Abby turned to the young boy. “Lev, lower the bow. It’s okay.”

Reluctantly, he listened.

“Abby, who are these people?” Mel asked.

“They saved my life,” she said, hoping that would be enough of an answer for now. “Can you take a look at her?” Abby looked down at Yara, who seemed to be barely conscious in her arms.

Mel dropped a hand on Alice’s head, instructing her to stay, as she slowly stepped closer, eyeing you and Lev cautiously.

“This is Yara,” Abby said before nodding over to the kid at her right, “That’s Lev. And that’s—” She stopped short. She wasn’t about to introduce you to them as Prophet.

Behind her, you spoke, offering up your name. Abby and Lev’s eyes both swung to you, widening for two entirely different reasons.

Abby’s because she was hearing your name for the first time. It was your name. It was like she discovered a brand new piece to this puzzle she had been frantically trying to assemble since the moment she saw you.

She wasn’t sure why Lev looked shocked, but it seemed like a big deal, for you to use your name in place of the title that had been forced upon you by the other Scars.

Abby quietly repeated the name, committing it to memory.

Mel gave a small nod, unaware of the mini revelation that was happening right in front of her, instead focusing on Yara with a concerned look on her face.

“What did this?” she asked, looking down at the girl’s mangled arm.

“A hammer,” you said, stepping forward until you were standing right next to Abby.

“It wasn’t me,” Abby quickly added. Guilty, despite her innocence. She was ashamed that she needed to make that clarification. Worried about what you would think about it.

Mel hesitated, regarding each of the Scars one by one again before sighing. “Alright. Let’s lay her down.”

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The pregnant woman—clearly someone Abby knew but wasn’t exactly friendly with—decided that Yara had compartment syndrome, which apparently meant they would have to cut her arm off.

While everyone else argued about the best way to accomplish that task, you stood off to the side, feeling sick. If you had been able to stop Emily’s men last night, this wouldn’t be happening.

It shouldn’t be happening.

Yara was going to lose her arm or die because you failed her.

You were trying not to spiral. Trying to be helpful now. (Too little, too late.) Trying to pay attention to the Wolves’ conversation.

They didn’t have the supplies they needed to perform the amputation safely. Yara didn’t have time to wait the couple days it would take Abby to travel all the way to the hospital and back.

“What if we could get you there in two hours?” Lev asked, hands grasping the metal table where Yara laid in the center of the room. “The Wolf hospital, right? On the west side?”

The man—Owen—stood, interested. “How?”

“The bridges,” you said, realizing what Lev was getting at. All eyes turned to you. “Our people built them. High up.”

Lev nodded. “It’s how we get around the flooding. And… you people.”

After a quiet moment, Abby stepped forward. “Can she handle two hours?”

The woman considered this, her hand comfortingly placed on Yara’s shoulder. “Probably, yeah.”

Abby nodded. “Then make a list of what you need.”

Owen stepped closer, joining the circle the rest of you had formed around Yara. “Wait. Are you serious? Abby, these bridges are used by Scars.”

The fact that he was arguing against the plan frustrated you. Yara didn’t have time for this.

“They only send in small groups at a time,” Lev said.

“You heard that? Small groups.” Abby said, watching as the other woman jotted down the supplies on a loose piece of paper and handed it over.

“This isn’t a joke.” Owen looked only at Abby, trying to catch her eyes. She seemed to be actively avoiding making contact.

Instead, she turned to you and said your name, followed by, “Let’s go.”

You looked up at her, at a loss for words. It was sad that something as simple as hearing your name could have this effect on you, but it had been eight years since you’d heard it… And this was already the second time Abby had said it.

You wanted to turn and walk right out the door with her, happy to follow her anywhere, but reality set it.

“I can’t,” you said. “I don’t know where the hospital is. And I don’t know our bridges well enough to guide you. It will have to be Lev.” It looked like Abby might argue with you, or at least tell you to come with them.

You wanted to. The idea of letting Lev go back out into danger without you made you sick with worry. But, foolish as it may seem, you trusted Abby to look out for him. And you didn’t understand these other Wolves and the strange dynamic at play here. You certainly didn’t trust them to be alone with Yara.

“Someone needs to stay with her,” you said, holding Abby’s gaze.

She nodded, grabbing her backpack off the floor. “Alright. Lev.”

He looked to you, taking your hand in his. The group splitting up must’ve felt wrong to him, too.

Almost on instinct, you did what you had been trained to do. You offered a bit of comfort.

“May She guide you,” you said quietly, giving him a small, encouraging smile as you squeezed his one hand between both of yours.

The words were familiar to you both, a common Seraphite mantra. He reciprocated your tight grasp and finished the line, “May She protect you.”

When you released his hand, he placed it on Yara’s shoulder, as if to tell her goodbye as well. She was unresponsive.

You felt a hand fall on your own shoulder and looked up to find that it was Abby. She nodded her head to the opposite end of the room, impatiently taking your wrist in her hand and leading you over there when you didn’t immediately catch her meaning.

She didn’t let go.

Abby stood close, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. “We’ll be back as soon as possible. Yara’s going to be fine, okay. And I’ll keep Lev safe.”

You couldn’t help the slight upward curve of your lips. “I know,” you said. “I trust you.”

She blinked, caught off guard, but continued. “I wouldn’t mention the whole you-being-the-Prophet thing to Owen and Mel if I were you.”

“I’m not a prophet,” you deadpanned.

She let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, sure. Well I wouldn’t tell them that the Scars think—”

“Seraphites,” you interjected.

“—Seraphites—Just… you get the point. Don’t mention it, okay?”

“What if they ask questions?”

“Dodge them. Be vague.”

“You don’t trust your friends?” you asked, more serious now.

“No,” Abby said. “Not with you.”

You couldn’t begin to guess what she meant by that.

“I trust them… for the most part.” She glanced at them over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again. “I just don’t know how they would react to that information. It’s not exactly a small thing. I don’t know what they would do with it.”

You looked at her for while longer, then nodded your head. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“Abby?” the man’s voice came from behind you.

She let go of your wrist immediately, as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

You turned around to find the woman—Mel—and Owen both looking at you like they were witnessing something truly insane, instead of just two people having a conversation.

Lev stood on his own by the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eager to get moving.

From behind you, you felt Abby’s hand wrap around your wrist again, squeezing lightly and then letting go.

“We’ll be back,” she said, this time at a normal volume. She joined Lev by the door, opening it and leading the way out.

“Abby!” Owen said again, moving to follow them out.

Mel groaned, frustrated. “God! Owen, just let them go.” When he ignored her, she went after him, the door slamming loudly behind her.

You stayed behind with Yara.

She was blinking slowly, barely awake, her shallow breaths too few and far between for your liking. You felt helpless, knowing there wasn’t much you could do other than sit and wait.

You pulled up a chair.

Just outside the door, the two Wolves were arguing. Although, you only caught bits and pieces of it.

Something about Abby and Scars and a cloak… Something about someone who looked like she just stepped out of The Lord of the Rings. You didn’t know what that meant, but it was clear they were talking about you.

Again, you unfastened the cloak and freed yourself of your top layer. Whether that was due to embarrassment or a sudden recognition of the uncomfortable warmth of the room, you couldn’t tell.

“Did you see how she was looking at her?” “Owen, why do you care? Why does it matter to you?” you heard through the door.

The dynamic here was becoming more and more confusing.

You’d assumed that Owen was the father of Mel’s child, just because they seemed to live here together. But that didn’t explain Mel’s rather apparent unfavorable opinion of Abby. And it definitely didn’t explain Owen’s preoccupation with Abby.

Their conversation continued for several minutes, volume rising and falling periodically. There wasn’t much you understood and even less of it seemed important or interesting to you.

Eventually, the door swung open again, making you jump in your seat. Mel reentered the room, offering you a strained smile as she checked on Yara. You quietly watched her work.

“There’s not much we can do for her until Abby and your friend get back,” she said to you, eyes still focused on Yara. “If you want, I can get you set up with a place to sleep while we wait.”

“No,” you said, too quickly to be polite. “…Thank you. I’ll stay with Yara.”

Mel pulled her lips into a tight line and nodded, leaving the room again. She came back a few minutes later with water and a shiny red apple, offering them up for you to take.

“Sorry. I know it’s not much. Owen isn’t well-stocked on food right now,” she said after you’d accepted the snack.

You smiled. “Thank you. You’re very kind to be helping us at all.”

Mel didn’t really answer, instead gesturing to the door as she walked toward it. “Well, we’ll… be around. If you need anything. And I’ll come in and check on her periodically.”

You nodded, quietly thanking her again. The discarded cloak that you’d left on a table by the door caught your eye. “Oh. Wait.”

She turned to face you again, eyebrows raised in question.

“What is The Lord of the Rings?” you asked.

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An excursion that was supposed to take two hours ended up taking nearly all day.

But hey, Abby had done the best she could.

She faced her deeply-rooted fear of heights on that sorry excuse for a bridge. She fought off Infected and Scars. She was, let’s say, detained by her fellow WLF soldiers at the hospital. And then she had to fight and kill what must’ve been the biggest, gnarliest, freakiest blob of cordyceps infection to ever exist.

She barely got out of there alive, but she managed to leave with the medical supplies in hand. Plus tons of new material for her future nightmares.

Mel had started operating as soon as they got back to the aquarium, with Owen assisting her.

You and Lev sat just outside the door the entire time.

The surgery had gone well. Yara was doing okay, all things considered.

After, Owen handed Abby a pile of sleeping bags and blankets and walked off without saying a word.

Abby handed them off to you and carefully lifted Yara again, this time to move her to a more comfortable spot to rest. She led the way to the next room, you and Lev trailing behind.

There was a long couch in the new room. You motioned for Lev to lay down on one end while Abby set Yara down on the other.

She stepped back and watched, amused, as you fussed over the two of them for a few minutes, using most of the blankets on your young friends.

When you were sure they were both as comfortable as possible, you left them to rest and walked back over to Abby. In your arms, you held the two sleeping bags that you hadn’t used on the kids.

You offered one of them to her.

She shook her head, motioning to the space on the floor in front of the couch where there was an old, worn-out rug.

“Lay mine out for me? I have to go do something before I go to sleep.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, looking concerned.

“I just need to talk to Owen. I’ll be right back.”

You studied her face, like you were trying to figure out whether or not she was being truthful.

Abby doubled down, pointing again. “Go. Get some sleep. I’ll be back.”

You sighed but went where she had pointed and began laying out the two sleeping bags.

One for you. One for her. Right next to each other on the floor.

You had been doing a good job of hiding it, but Abby could tell you were exhausted. She couldn’t blame you. Hell, she was exhausted. And the sooner she touched base with Owen, the sooner she could come back.

She turned and went out to track him down.

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You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

You had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, but you couldn’t fall asleep. Your mind was racing. Filled with worry for Yara, concern about her condition, guilt for having been unable to prevent the injury from happening in the first place. Thoughts of your own people hunting your friends with the intent to kill them. Fear that, despite your desire to keep them safe, your lack of knowledge and experience in the world outside of Haven would make that impossible.

You thought about the woman you killed yesterday. How she’d so tenderly and earnestly called you her Prophet just moments before you snuck up behind her and ended her life.

You wondered if you too were now an apostate. If the Seraphites had found the bodies of Emily and her men and assumed you were dead, or if they somehow knew that you betrayed them all the very moment you were given the chance.

You wondered if your mother knew what you had done. If she would be punished for your sins.

You thought about Abby, hoping that your faith in her was not misplaced. Hoping that your attraction to her hadn’t clouded your judgment.

This was crazy. All of it. It was too much.

You had tossed everything and everyone you’ve ever known aside, thrown the first twenty years of your life to the wind like it meant nothing at all, and run off into the forest with a Wolf without a second thought. And now that you, Yara, and Lev were finally (seemingly) not in immediate danger, you had time to think things through. Contemplate what you’d done and try to figure out where it left you.

By your own hand, your life had been irreparably changed forever. It was done. There was no undoing it. No going back.

You would stay with Lev and Yara. You would stay with Abby if that’s what she wanted.

But where would you go? It wasn’t safe for any of you to stay here.

That wasn’t a question you could answer. You didn’t know of anywhere else. You wouldn’t know how to find a place that was safe.

All of these thoughts bombarded your mind at once, taking turns at the forefront. Contradicting emotions swirled, adding to the chaos.

There was a sadness, a sense of loss for the people you had always belonged to.

Guilt and shame. Two feelings that were not at all foreign to you, but you had never felt as strongly as you did now.

A lightness. A happiness. Almost a thrill. A hopeful nervousness for the freedom you had claimed for yourself, the agency you had uncovered, and the possibility of what was to come.

Sadness, again, for the mother you would miss, and the realization that you had already been missing her for a very long time.

Frustration—simmering anger—for your childhood that was stolen and the shame that did not originate within yourself. The unrelenting voices that lived in your head, weighing in on every thought and critiquing every action. But those voices were not your own. You would take your dagger and cut their presence from your mind, carefully carving them out of your head and disposing of them yourself if you could.

And, amongst everything else taking up space inside of you, demanding your attention, it felt stupid and frivolous and wasteful, but you couldn’t keep Abby from your thoughts. She kept appearing, in the middle of it all. This was something that you truly did not have time for and should not be putting energy toward.

But you had never felt intrinsically drawn to someone in the way you were drawn to her…

Behind you, you could hear slow, heavy breaths coming from either end of the couch. You were glad that Lev and Yara were getting some rest. You’d do your best to make sure they got their fill of it this time.

You got up quietly, trying not to disturb them but feeling like you needed to move. You shook out your arms, rolled your neck around, wiggled your fingers, stretched your legs.

Honestly, you wanted run. Or hit something. Or scream. Loudly and for a long time. Until you ran out of air and your voice was ragged.

But you didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you went to look for Abby.

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“Seriously? You’re telling me Isaac’s top Scar killer just… turned over a new leaf? Decided to befriend and help three Scars?” Mel was staring into Abby’s soul, her words dripping in disbelief.

Abby had found her and Owen upstairs, in the same room that had once housed the boat man’s skeleton and the couple’s Christmas stockings (not at the same time, of course).

Owen was angry. Exactly what she had done to earn his anger, she couldn’t say. He held a jar of his homemade moonshine. A jar that was somewhere between three-quarters and one half full. Abby assumed it had been filled to the top just a few minutes ago.

He had apparently decided to be a silent, brooding drunk tonight, so Mel had been the one to interrogate her.

Abby tried to explain everything, albeit keeping things pretty vague. She didn’t want to give them too much information about you specifically, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong idea about you, so she made sure to omit the part where you nearly gutted her. And the part where you were the new Scar Prophet that Isaac was after.

Mel wasn’t buying the part where Abby simply had a change of heart.

She shot Owen a cautious look before she said, “Abby, do you—I thought you might—Is it possible that you’re…” Mel stopped, gathering her thoughts, trying to find the best way to word it. “It’s not… like… a problem that she’s a woman. It’s just… it is kind of a big deal that she’s a Scar—”

“Abby isn’t into a fucking Scar,” Owen interjected, his knuckles white around the mouth of the jar. “And she’s not fucking gay.”

Then he started chugging the jar’s contents, forcing down swallow after painful swallow.

The women were both silent for a second, surprised by the anger in his words.

Abby didn’t know what to say. She knew she was into you—and she’d be lying if she said that wasn’t at least part of the reason why she was helping you and your friends—but she had never considered if that made her gay.

She honestly didn’t really care to label herself as anything either way. It felt stupid—in the honest-to-god post-apocalyptic hellscape that they lived in, where they had been engaged in a never-ending war since they were kids—to care about that kind of thing.

Why should it matter—when her family was dead, her friends were constantly in danger, and there were enemies closing in from every angle—if she was romantically or sexually interested in men or women or both? Wasn’t that almost guaranteed to be the least important detail at any given moment? And why should she waste any of her time or energy trying to define herself in that way?

This was all really new to her. She hadn’t really let herself be interested in anyone since Owen, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she had ever been into him for the right reasons. Again, she remembered how uncomfortable it made her feel to kiss him, to be touched by him…

She couldn’t imagine that it would feel like that if you touched her. And just the fact that she hoped one day she’d find out was probably telling enough.

So maybe, in the Old World, people would’ve called Abby a lesbian. Maybe she would’ve identified with that title if things were different, if her life was lower stakes, and if she’d had more time to explore herself and her interests.

What-ifs didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here now. You were with her—and she needed to figure out a plan of how to proceed from here—so she could make sure to keep it that way. She could figure out the rest later.

Mel was the first to speak, annoyed, but addressing him calmly, like she was talking to a rabid animal. “Owen—”

He didn’t even let her get a word in.

“No. This is bullshit! Abby—” He looked past Mel to meet Abby’s gaze, insistent. “I’m going to Santa Barbara to find the Fireflies. If you’re smart, you’ll ditch the Scars and come with me.”

Mel slammed her hands on the table, causing both Abby and Owen to jump. “What the hell do you mean, you’re going to Santa Barbara?! We are going to Santa Barbara!” They weren’t used to seeing violent outbursts from Mel. She was the queen of passive aggression, but she rarely lost her cool. “What is wrong with you, Owen? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? This is all so seriously fucked up.” She turned away from them, clenching her fists at her sides, looking like she might cry. Or hit something. Or both.

But for the first time in years, Abby wasn’t on the receiving end of her disdain.

Guess all she had to do for her old friend to stop seeing her as a threat was get entangled with the Scar Prophet. No big deal.

Owen, in a moment of clarity, seemed to realize how huge of an asshole he was being to the mother of his child. He set down his jar, stood, and walked over to Mel, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her into him, her back pressed against his front. He was swaying on his feet, his cheeks flushed, hands clumsy. If he hadn’t been drunk before, he definitely was now. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. We are going to Santa Barbara. Of course it’s we. Hell, the Scars can come too for all I care. We’ll make it a party.”

Abby rolled her eyes at his quick switch-up and turned to go. Clearly this conversation wasn’t going anywhere productive tonight, with Owen drunk, Mel upset, and all of them exhausted beyond belief.

There was a creak by the door, and all three of them turned to look, Owen’s reaction far more delayed than Abby and Mel’s.

You stood there in your long white dress, hesitant to come in. Shy, having clearly interrupted a tense conversation.

Abby wondered how long you’d been standing there unnoticed. Her instinct was to meet you in the doorway and take you back to bed, away from Owen’s rude drunkenness and Mel’s inquisitive eyes.

“Hey! Scar! How the hell are ya? Come join us! We were just talking about sunny California. Ever been?” Owen pulled away from Mel and plopped back down on the couch, finding his jar again.

“Umm…” You looked to Abby for guidance, but she was just as unsettled as you. “No. I haven’t… Sorry, I was just looking for Abby.”

“Yeah, I bet you were,” he mumbled under his breath. Abby wasn’t sure if you caught that, but she wasn’t interested in having you hear any more of this.

“Let’s just go,” she said to you, moving toward where you still stood in the doorway.

“No! Come! Sit! Let’s talk,” Owen insisted, slapping the spot next to him on the couch.

You gave Abby another hesitant look before walking past her to join Owen. Mel sighed and lowered herself into a nearby chair. When it became clear to her that retreating with you wasn’t an option right now, Abby walked back over. She stood right across from the couch so she could see you, leaned against the wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest.

You sat next to Owen, although not so close, putting as much distance between you as possible.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Abby wanted to punch him.

All of this was out of character for Owen, but she knew that he was always kind of unpredictable when he got drunk. With everything that had happened and emotions running so high, everyone really should just be going to sleep.

With that in mind, Abby would continue to stand nearby until you were ready to leave. She wouldn’t let things get out of hand.

“So… Scar—”

“Seraphite,” Abby corrected him. He scoffed and took another swig.

You smiled softly at her, looking grateful.

“Scar,” he said again. “Can I perhaps interest you in some hooch? Made it myself.” He offered up the jar for you to take, tilting it towards you with unsteady hands.

“No,” Abby immediately answered on your behalf. “She does not want any of your hooch.”

“Well give the girl a chance to answer,” he slurred. “What? Your little girlfriend can’t speak for herself? She can’t make her own decisions?”

You glanced back and forth between him and her, reaching for the open jar of clear liquid, properly baited by his taunting words.

Abby tried to remember that Owen was her friend—her best friend—and that he wasn’t usually like this.

“What is… hooch?” you asked, staring down into the glass jar suspiciously.

“It’s moonshine,” Abby said. When that didn’t clear things up for you, she added, “Alcohol.”

“Like wine?” you asked, tentatively sniffing it.

Owen laughed. Abby nodded, “Kind of, but it’s much stronger. Seriously, you won’t like it.”

There was a flash of something that looked like defiance in your eyes, offense taken at the idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle something that others could.

You put the jar to your lips and tilted it back enough to take in a generous mouthful.

Abby watched as your eyes went wide and you struggled to swallow it. Honestly, she was impressed that you didn’t immediately spit it out. You managed to choke it down before breaking out in a harsh coughing fit.

Owen laughed, accepting the jar as you shoved it back into his hands. Your eyes watered as you tapped on your sternum, taking a second to regain the ability to speak.

“You made that?” you wheezed in disbelief.

“Yep!”

“On purpose?”

Abby laughed at that, leaning back against the wall again once she was convinced that you weren’t dying.

“Hey, that’s prime hooch! You should be thanking me right now.” Owen took his own swig of it, lounging back against the couch with his arm resting along the back.

“Thank you?” You squinted your eyes but tried to be polite.

“I was kidding, princess. You don’t have to thank me.”

Abby, again, resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

“So,” Owen began, “tell me. How is it that you’re a Scar… but you’re not scarred?” He chuckled to himself, as if he had made a joke.

Your eyes shot to meet Abby’s, clearly unprepared to answer that question.

“Not every Seraphite has facial scars,” you said, keeping things vague.

“Every Scar I’ve ever seen does.”

“You’ve seen me, haven’t you?” you shot back.

Abby let out a surprised laugh. Owen clenched his jaw.

“Every Scar has face scars. It’s like your defining thing. It’s why we call you Scars.” He was adamant, unyielding. And the playful mask was starting to slip back into anger. Abby could tell this wasn’t going to end well.

“Well I guess you don’t know as much about Seraphites as you thought you did.” You were frustrated now, pressing yourself further into the far end of the couch to put more distance between the two of you.

Owen opened his mouth with a rebuttal, but Abby jumped in. “Lay off, Owen.”

He threw his hands up in surrender, leaning back against the brown cushions. “Fine, fine. Whatever. Forgive me for having questions. Fuck me, I guess. I’ve just never seen a hot Scar befo—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mel was on her feet. “Alright. That’s it. You’re done.” She had been sitting silently up until then, ready to intervene if things got out of hand, just as Abby had been. Apparently, Owen calling you hot was where she drew the line.

Abby was glad Mel was saying something. Because if things had gone much further, she really might’ve hit him.

“Get up,” Mel instructed firmly, standing over him. “You’re going to bed.” He let her take the jar out of his hands and, with much effort, pushed himself up off the couch and started walking toward the door. Mel was right behind him, hands hovering on either of his sides in case he lost his balance. He was grumbling under his breath the whole way, like a toddler whose bedtime was being enforced.

Abby watched them go.

Once they were out of sight, she looked down at you, only to find that you were already looking at her.

“Sorry,” she spat out. “About him. He’s not usually like that.”

You nodded, but you didn’t seem sure that you believed her.

“So you guys are… friends?”

Abby cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. We’ve known each other for years. Joined the WLF together. Me, Owen, Mel, and a few others.”

You considered this for a second before responding. “Where were you before?”

“Salt Lake City,” she said, looking down at her feet. “Utah.” Abby didn’t know if that would mean anything to you.

“Mel doesn’t seem to like you very much,” you said, observant, not trying to offend. Abby smiled, despite the meaning behind your words. You added, “And Owen doesn’t seem to like me.” You stated it like it was a fact, like it was neither good nor bad, just true.

“He’ll get over it. He’s just drunk.” Abby didn’t know if that was true, but she wanted to comfort you in that moment, not that you actually seemed to care all that much about Owen’s opinion of you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You were looking up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Anything, Abby thought. Out loud, she said, “Sure.”

She pushed away from the wall and came to sit next to you on the couch, filling the spot where Owen had been.

“Why do you people keep calling me princess?” you asked. Abby laughed quietly under her breath, turning her body to face you.

“I don’t know. There’s something about you that’s very princess-like I guess.”

You made a face at her. She smiled wider.

“It’s not a bad thing. You just come across as soft. Delicate. I don’t know… Graceful.”

“I am not delicate,” you said, defensive.

“I know.”

“I’ve killed.”

“I saw.” Abby was being serious, although she did find the conversation amusing. “You’re very skilled with a knife.”

You nodded, satisfied with her response, and fully turned to face Abby. “And what does hot mean? Why did he call me hot?”

“Oh—” Abby stuttered, “Uh—He meant… He was saying that you’re very pretty.”

“Oh.” You considered this, eyes wandering away. “Earlier he said I look like The Lord of the Rings.”

Abby smiled again. There was something about you that felt like it might’ve been taken straight from the high fantasy genre.

“Do you know what that is?” she asked.

“Yes. Sort of. I asked Mel. She said it was a film about a magical land. With fairies and stuff.”

“They were books first.”

“Have you read them?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you read a lot of books?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I try to read as much as I can. Whatever’s available.”

You nodded, thinking, letting the conversation die down.

After a moment, “Abby?”

“Hmm?” she hummed. She liked the way you said her name. Just the sound of it made her heart beat a little bit faster.

“Owen also called me your girlfriend.” You were studying her face, trying to read her reaction.

“Yeah. He did.” Abby said, looking into your inquisitive eyes.

“Does that just mean friend? Or is it something else?”

“He was just trying to piss me off.”

“So it does mean something else?” Your eyes were on her lips now, and you were ever so slightly leaned forward. Almost subconsciously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abby said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

She was pushing you away, and she didn’t know why. She could’ve answered that question so differently. Maybe she should’ve.

Abby wanted you. And she was almost certain that you felt the same way. At the very least, there was a curiosity. A hesitant attraction.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong. That anything with you would be something she wasn’t good enough for.

Something she didn’t deserve.

Something she would ruin if given the chance.

So tonight, she didn’t give herself that chance.

Was that noble or cowardly? She wasn’t sure.

You pulled away, turning to face forward as you let out a long breath, puffing out your cheeks.

“I’m tired,” you said, standing. “And I should check on Yara and Lev.”

“Yeah.” Abby nodded. “Okay.”

She remained in place, ready to mentally beat herself up some more and stew in her thoughts alone for a while.

You cleared your throat lightly, swaying on your feet. “Umm… I’m not sure that I can find my way back to the room. Can you… please—?”

“Oh.” Abby hopped to her feet. “Okay, yeah. I’ll… I guess I’ll go with you.”

She avoided eye contact, leading the way into the dark hallway.

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

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the-oblivious-writer · 11 months

Text

Let the Light In |6|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Six: Knight In Shining Armor

Summary: Tension rises between you and Tara when you, once again, find yourself protecting her—old habits showing themselves

Warning(s): Swearing, angst, Fr*nkie, grief (if you squint), intoxication, mentions of social anxiety & underage drinking

Notes: Took a while but it's finally here! Also throwing it out there that my face claim for Charlotte is Sofia Wylie

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

Tara was walking down the streets of Manhattan, finally done with her classes for the day. It had been a long week and Tara was just thankful it was finally the weekend. She walked with one earbud in while her other hand subconsciously clenched her keys in her right pocket. It was a habit she had picked up not too long after what happened back in Woodsboro; that plus the pepper spray, taser, whistle, and expandable baton Sam always made her take before leaving the house, meant she was more than ready to defend herself if needed.

As she continued to walk, she felt something fury brush up against her. She looked down to find a gray cat, brushing itself against her. Tara smiled to herself before crouching down to get a better look at the cat. “Hey, there…do you have a name?” She looked for a collar but didn’t find one.

Just then, the sky let out a loud grumble. She looked up at the gray skies then back at the cat, thinking. “I can’t just leave you out here to get drenched. Come on, let me take you home,” she gently picked up the cat, who didn’t protest.

By the time she got home, she was soaked. Her mascara was running and her hair was damp. She was freezing cold; she had wrapped her jacket around the cat so he wouldn’t get wet.

Sam began to walk out from the kitchen as she spoke, “Hey Tar– you’re soaked.”

“Yeah no shit, Sam.”

“Is… Is that a cat?”

“...Yes…” Tara said with a sheepish smile; she had completely forgotten about the ‘needing to convince Sam to keep him’ part.

“Tara, no.”

“Sam, yes.”

Sam sighed as she made a quick trip to the bathroom, coming back with a towel and wrapping it around Tara. “You can barely take care of yourself–”

“Not true!”

“–How do you expect to take care of a whole ass cat?”

Tara rolled her eyes, still holding the cat protectively in her arms. “Come on, I’m not a kid. I can take care of a cat. I’ll buy his food, change his litter box—all that stuff!”

“I don’t know…”

“Please, Sammy,” Tara begged, pouting out her bottom lip. She gave Sam the same look she’d give her whenever she wanted more cookies when they were younger.

“Alright—alright, fine, you win,” Sam huffed and an excited smile broke out on Tara’s face.

“Yes!” Tara looked down at the cat victoriously.

“But Tara, I swear, I better not step in cat shit.”

“No cat shit. Got it.”

—

Dook.

That’s what Tara named her new found cat—named after the Babadook. It had been only a few days since she found him and he’s earned the title of, “my little menace,” from Tara. In the few days Dook has been here he has scratched Chad five times, ripped up Mindy’s sweater in five different spots, and constantly hisses at Sam during the most random times. Why? Sam has no idea, but Tara made the theory it was, “just to mess with her.”

So far, the only person Dook has been even remotely soft to was Tara. She didn’t mind that at all; she enjoyed coming home to Dook’s company—her room feeling less empty than it usually feels.

It was the following Tuesday; she sat not too far from the door as she re-watched Fear Street 1994 while waiting for you. Just as she was about to check her phone for the time, she heard a couple knocks on the door. Before Sam could call out for Tara to answer it, Tara jumped up and made her way to the door. Sam only raised an eyebrow before going back to what she was doing.

Tara counted five seconds in her head before opening the door.

“Took you long enough,” she said with a slight eye roll.

“Afternoon to you too, Carpenter. So, you're gonna let me in or…”

“Well you’re as patient as ever,” Tara remarked sarcastically as she opened the door wider, letting you inside. You placed your bag down, sitting on the couch and taking out your notes as Tara sat a couple cushions over.

“So, I was thinking we could start with Friday’s notes and work our way to today since I couldn’t make Friday—” You suddenly heard Tara let out a dry chuckle, causing you to raise your eyebrows as you looked at her.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Ms. Carpenter?” You quipped, looking up from your papers and at her.

“Oh nothing…just that you’ve been missing a lot of study sessions lately and–”

“I wouldn’t call two a lot–”

“–and I don’t know why I have to suffer through extra work all because you wanna swap spit.”

You let out a dry laugh, looking at the younger Carpenter before realizing she was dead serious.

“Oh—Oh you’re serious? Well, how about those two whole weeks you missed over some petty reason—I don't know what the reasoning was, but I know for a fact it was a hundred percent petty.”

“You know what, screw these notes,” Tara said before grabbing your binder from you.

“Hey—Hey! Wait just a minute there—what are you–?”

“We’re watching a movie,” she informed—not asking—after shutting your binder, putting it somewhere you couldn’t reach unless you stood up and walked to it.

“We're a week and a half behind on study sessions.”

“Not my problem.”

“It’s literally your problem—our problem, actually.”

“Gosh, could you just not stress out for, like, two seconds? You’ll be fine. Now, a little birdy told me you like The Nightmare Before Christmas?” Tara told you, reaching for the remote.

“Yeah… I do.”

“Great. We’ll watch that.”

You didn’t need to know how boring she found the movie; she wasn’t looking at the screen much anyways.

—

Sam sat in her room, reading her book as she enjoyed the silence—wait. It’s silent. Why is it so quiet? It’s never so quiet when you’re over. The most she’s heard in the last thirty minutes were hushed voices, but nothing loud enough she could make out. She suddenly started to think about what could possibly be going on in the other—unsupervised—room. She could no longer concentrate on her book as her protective side took over.

You slightly leaned forward as you watched the screen with all your attention. Tara couldn’t help but wear a small smile when she noticed your intense focus. She pulled out of her gaze when she noticed you make a double take at your foot; just then, she saw a certain furry haired animal brushing up against your leg.

To her surprise, Dook didn’t claw at you. As a matter of fact, he seemed…fond of you?

“Hello, there…” You greeted Dook before gently picking him up. If anybody else had picked him up, they would’ve been clawed at in seconds. Tara furrowed her eyebrows as she watched you interact with her cat; the same cat who’s been an absolute ass to anybody who wasn’t her—well, before now.

You scratched him behind his left ear, causing him to let out a satisfied purr. It was then when you finally said something to Tara. “Since when did you have a cat?”

“Got him pretty recently, actually. He was just roaming the streets of Manhattan and had no collar so that’s how he ended up here.”

“Well, does this adorable face have a name?” You asked, looking at the cat as you complimented him.

Tara failed to fight another smile, showing off her dimples as she answered, “His name’s Dook.”

“Like, Babadook?”

“Yeah…” She watched as you continued to be sweet with Dook; he sat comfortably in your lap, looking a lot less grumpy than he usually is.

Suddenly, Sam abruptly enters the living room, causing Dook to hiss at her before moving back into his original position on your lap.

“Sam, hey. Something wrong?” Tara asked her older sister.

“Uh, I just wanted to check up on you guys; it’s been pretty quiet.”

“Oh, yeah, we decided to watch a movie instead.”

Sam looked at the scene, recognizing the movie—her curiosity increased.

“Nightmare Before Christmas? But I thought you–”

“Have no harsh judgment regarding the movie? Yeah. I know.”

“No, I mean, don’t you find it really bor–”

“Entertaining? Yes, Sam. We know this.” Tara let out a dry cough, hoping Sam would just drop the topic all together.

“Okay…well I’m going to order some pizza. Are you staying over for dinner, Y/N?” Sam inquired, moving on, much to Tara’s relief.

You looked at the time, thinking as you did, before looking at Sam from where you sat. “If it’s no trouble.”

“Of course not. I’ll order it right now,” she said before walking away, pulling out her phone as she did so.

“What was that about?” You asked Tara with a raised eyebrow, referring to what her and Sam were going back and forth about.

Tara opened her mouth, not even sure what she was about to say, when she heard someone knocking. “Oh, I should probably get that,” Tara quickly got up to make her way to the door, relieved at being excused from answering.

“What are you guys doing here?” She immediately asked after opening the door to find Chad, Mindy, Anika and Ethan on the other side of the door.

“Good to see you too, T,” Mindy quipped.

Tara rolled her eyes, “I just mean, I wasn’t expecting you guys today.”

“We made plans last week for movie night.”

“And since it’s my turn to choose, we’re watching 10 Things I Hate About You,” Anika added in a cheery tone.

“Um,” Tara looked over her shoulder to you, before looking back at her friends, “One second.”

“Wait, who were you loo–” Before Chad could finish his question, Tara shut the door, making her way towards you.

“So, uh–”

“Heard the whole thing.”

Tara lightly nodded, holding her wrist in her other hand behind her back as she continued. “Does this mean… you’re going to go?”

You were about to say yes but the words caught in your throat when you finally looked at the expression Tara wore.

You thought for a moment, putting down the bag you were just packing.

“Do you want me to?”

“Well…want’s a strong word–”

“Yes or no, Tara,” you said, looking at her.

Tara mumbled something incoherent, looking away from your gaze.

“You’re gonna have to speak up, mumbles,” you teased the younger Carpenter.

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “I wan—I want you to stay. Happy?” She huffed, not even sure why she puts up with you.

You smile smugly at her, “Fine. ‘Guess I’m staying.”

—

It was awkward—at least, for you, it was. Tara and her friends seemed to get each other, which is great for them, but you felt almost like a chaperone the entire time you were there. You tried to distance yourself as much as possible and when you did find yourself surrounded by the group of friends, you stuck by Anika.

You always found yourself gravitating toward a familiar presence whenever you got caught in social situations like this. You spent most of your own fourteenth birthday party—that you didn’t even want—attached to Henry’s side, following him around like a puppy. You often stuck by people who you found comfort in. You’ve known Henry since daycare years and Anika has been there since she’s entered your life.

You look at the time to see only an hour has passed as you sigh to yourself. Why were you here again?

“Hey,” you heard Tara say, opening her bedroom door to find you on her bed.

Oh, that’s why.

“Hey.”

“You’re not enjoying yourself,” she said as a matter of fact, feeling a little defeated for some reason.

“Hm? Oh no—no this is, uh, great. Yeah, I just love hearing about the same football story over and over again while your curly haired friend continues to make passes at me…so fun,” your voice couldn’t be any more sarcastic. It started out as you wanting to lie, telling her it was going alright—truly! But you can’t help but be your usual sarcastic self, especially around Tara.

“You’re having the worst time ever, aren’t you?”

You looked at her apologetic expression, exhaling as you adjusted your posture a bit. Tara walks over to sit across from you.

“Look…Tar, it’s nothing personal. I’m just—I’m just not good with this stuff.”

“What do you mean?” Tara inquired genuinely.

You sighed, pressing down on your thumbnail with your index finger as you spoke. “I’m not good with…unfamiliarity I guess, or whatever. And—and socializing and all that shit just doesn’t come naturally to me—at least not like it does for people like Anika, and Chad—or you.”

Tara continued to listen to your words, giving you her full attention as you opened up to her. You blinked back at Tara, feeling like you just overshared far too much.

“This was stupid. Forget it.” You got up to leave but just as you reached for the door handle, you felt slender fingers wrap themselves around your wrist.

“It’s not stupid,” you heard Tara speak. You turned your head to look at her. “If you ever want to talk about it more… I’m here. That won’t change.”

You swallowed, taking in Tara’s words as you processed what she was saying. You didn’t trust your voice, only settling for a light nod before leaving Tara’s bedroom.

By the time Tara also left—waiting a couple minutes, wanting to give you some time—you had already made your escape.

When you got home that night, the feeling of dread took over you. It felt like there was barbed wire wrapped around your throat as you tried your hardest not to cry, because you knew if you did there was a chance you’d never stop. Memories of him flashed through your mind as you tried to shake them away, but it was no use. No matter how much you tried to escape it, Dewey's voice continued to ring in your head.

Dewey placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, looking at you with genuine eyes as he spoke, “I’m here. That won’t change.”

—

Tara looked around with furrowed eyebrows, looking at the sea of people. She was currently at a Halloween frat party; she chose to go with a pirate costume this year.

Tara was feeling indecisive about her costume this Halloween but then she got the idea when she remembered something you told her; for your first seven Halloweens, your mom had you dressed up as a pirate. Tara could tell you would not be wearing a pirate costume again any time soon.

Because of your high-sea past, Tara thought dressing up as a pirate would be a fun way to mess with you—well, if you were actually here. You were nowhere in sight. Tara squinted her eyes as she tried looking through the crowd—still no sign of you.

Mindy noticed her friend looking around the room from her seat, which was odd. By this time Tara would be drinking, dancing, or even playing beer pong with Chad—but not sitting down.

Before Mindy could ask anything, Tara turned to Anika, asking her something that answered Mindy’s unspoken question.

“Hey, where’s Y/N?” Tara asked, her voice was slightly raised due to the blaring music.

“At home. She couldn't—or rather refused to make it,” Anika answered the younger Carpenter.

“Oh,” Tara let out, turning to look ahead.

Mindy and Anika glanced at each other, already being on the same page. “Why? Missed her?” Mindy inquired, smirking behind her beer bottle right before taking a sip.

Tara lightly scoffed, “Pfft no.” Tara dramatically rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

“Y/N?” Tara heard Anika say; she immediately sat up, uncrossing her arms and fixing her demeanor. Her expression instantly dropped when she saw who you were with.

She did not know much about Charlotte. She seemed nice though. Nice enough. Tara heard from Anika that you’ve been “hanging out” with Charlotte for a few weeks now but haven’t exactly assigned labels yet. That made sense; you were never one for labels.

She suddenly snapped out of her gaze when she realized you and Charlotte were walking towards them.

“Hey, guys,” you said in an anything but enthusiastic tone.

“Hey, Y/N. Thought you weren’t coming,” Anika pointed out, not unkindly.

“Me too but this one,” you pointed with your thumb to Charlotte, “is quite the debater.”

“I was captain of the debate team back in high school,” Charlotte smirked.

“Of course you were,” there was a slight teasing tone in your voice as you and Charlotte shared a look. Tara didn’t like that. She didn’t like that at all. You teased her. You gave her looks nobody else knew the meaning behind except you two.

Tara cleared her throat, causing you and Charlotte to look away from each other and at her. “So, you're gonna actually act like you’re here as a college student or a chaperone?” Tara joked and a small but soft smile grazed your face.

“The night’s still young, Carpenter,” you replied, the smile she had been missing never faltering.

“Oh! Daisy’s here, I’m going to say hi. Catch you later?” You heard Charlotte speak from beside you.

You looked over at her and lightly nodded, “Okay.” She placed a quick kiss on your cheek, catching you off guard, before going to her friend.

You sat down in the seat between Tara and Anika—who was sitting in Mindy’s lap—and exhaled, already exhausted from being here.

“You’ve got,” Anika said, pointing to your cheek where there was a lipstick stain. You raised your left hand to your right cheek as your roommate shook her head.

“No the other—” You, once again, completely dodged the spot she was pointing at and Tara groaned.

“Dude, you’re helpless,” she said with an eye roll before reaching over and wiping the spot for you. She softly rubbed your left cheek as you looked at her. It didn’t take long for you to notice how close her face was to yours.

“There…” Tara trailed off, suddenly growing shy when she too realized how close her face was to yours.

Mindy and Anika look at each other before getting up. “We’re gonna dance. You kids behave,” Mindy said before walking away with her arm wrapped around Anika.

“Let me guess… you’re a homicidal maniac?” She looked at your casual attire.

You smiled at her, tilting your head back and turning it to look at her, “You know me too well.”

You both shared a short laugh before it went silent again. Suddenly, you two realized this is the first you’ve both spoken to each other since that night at Tara’s place.

“Hey, so, uh, you didn’t say goodbye…” Tara said sheepishly, refusing to meet your gaze as she played with the hem of her costume. She didn’t have to specify what she was talking about, you just knew.

“Oh yeah, I was just tired so I decided to call it a night.”

Tara nodded understandingly as you looked down at her hands that toyed with the fabric of her costume.

“So…was this,” you gestured to her costume, “planned or…? You both laughed again before she answered you.

“Course’ not. I just…happened to have decided on being a pirate a couple days after you told me your ‘first seven years of dread’ story.” Another laugh was shared between you two.

“Well, you look good,” you complimented. Tara couldn’t fight the heat that rushed to her cheeks as the compliment hit her ears. She was about to respond when suddenly you felt your phone vibrate.

You pulled out your phone, reading the text to yourself before putting it back in your pocket.

“It’s Charlotte, she wants me to meet her by the pool.”

“Oh. Yeah, totally.”

“Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone, princess.” You smiled at her as you sat up from your seat, Tara’s head tracked your movement.

“Me? I would never.”

—

One thing.

You asked her for one, very simple, thing. And now? Now, Mindy and Anika were calling you back inside because apparently Tara had the luck of being near Frankie of all people tonight.

By the time you made your way inside—as quickly as you possibly could—you could see Chad also trying to stop the situation. You made your way over to the staircase, appearing from behind Chad.

“Let’s stay down here,” you said—not asking.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Frankie said, causing you to let out a humorless chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, you did,” you remarked, feeling your hands start to ball up into tight fists. Before you could say anything else, Tara walks down a couple steps and is now standing in front of you as Chad keeps a careful eye on Frankie. “No, Y/N it’s fine. I want to,” you heard her say in a drunken voice. Far too drunk to consent.

Frankie walks down, getting close to your face as he wears a disgusting grin. “Yeah, see Y/N? It’s fine. She wants to.” He turned around, roughly grabbing Tara’s arm. His grip causes Tara to let out a sound of pain, tripping on the stairs.

Without a second thought you pull him by the collar of his shirt, pushing him roughly against the wall; picture frames come crashing down but don’t give them a second look as hear glass shatter.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” You pushed your right arm harder against his throat, pinning him against the wall as your free hand tightly gripped his shirt. “Serousily, where the fuck do you get off!”

Chad checked on Tara as you had Frankie pinned to the wall. You wanted to hurt him. You wanted to hurt him so bad. What was stopping you? You could do it. You look down at the shards of glass, itching to grab a piece. Suddenly, you saw that sinister smile. His sinister smile. That’s why you couldn’t.

But when you looked back at Frankie, you quickly forgot about everything that was stopping you. All you had to do was press into his throat a little harder and–

“I got it from here, Y/N.” You turned around to see Sam holding a taser. You immediately got the hint, getting off of Frankie.

“Hi! Sorry to interrupt, I'm just going to tase you really quick,” Sam said before tasing Frankie right in the crotch.

“Fuck!” He dropped to his knees, holding onto his stomach as he groaned in pain.

“You bitch!” He yelled, earning a swift kick between his legs—making the pain worse—from you.

“Watch your mouth,” you said before making your way towards Tara. “You okay?”

“It’s that psycho girl from reddit!” Someone shouted from the crowd that surrounded you.

“Hey, don’t you have something better to do rather than stand around here all day?” Anika shouted at the crowd as Mindy shooed them away.

—

Tara walks ahead of the group as she feels her frustration take over. Sam tries to catch up to her as she calls for her, “Tara, will you stop!” Tara rolls her eyes, refusing to stop as she responds. “I cannot believe you did that, you embarrassed me!”

“I was trying to help you!”

Tara suddenly turns around, “And look what happened!” Her voice raises as it runs hot with anger. “You're out of my life for five years then you can't even leave me alone for five seconds,” Tara shouts with a throw of her arms.

“Because you're not dealing with what happened to us. Have you ever gone to see the counselor at least once?”

You looked at Tara, studying every expression she wore on her face. You wanted her to be okay. You knew it wasn’t that simple, but you still couldn’t help but want it. You hated seeing her like this. You never liked seeing her like this.

You checked up on her when she was at the hospital, relieved she was asleep when you got there. You didn’t want her to think it meant anything. You were just making sure she still had a pulse. Who else would you get into fights with? That’s what you told yourself, 'cause it’s true! You weren't overly concerned or anything. But it was the bare minimum amount of concern to have when you found out somebody you knew was recently used as somebody else's pin cushion.

She’s Tara Carpenter, she’ll bounce back in no time, you told yourself. You can still remember the shock on all her friends' faces when they saw you sitting by her hospital bedside. They entered the room and when you saw them, you immediately stood up.

“Sorry, I just found out about what happened and wanted to check on her.” You put your hands in your pocket, feeling uncomfortable with the eyes on you. You couldn’t tell what was going through their heads. “But she’s breathing, so I’ll get going now.” When you’re about to walk out the door, Chad puts his hand on your shoulder which causes you to stop. Was he about to punch you? “You’re welcome to stay, dude.” Oh.

You were welcome to stay. Did you want to?

You shook your head,“No, it’s okay. You guys should spend your time with her—unbothered.” You said before walking out of the hospital, not waiting for a response.

Maybe you cared little more than you’d ever admit.

You snap out of your thoughts as you hear Tara’s voice again.

“Because I know what mine is—I’m going to get my degree, become a lawyer, and live my life, my life,” Tara’s voice was firm. Certain.

—

Two soft knocks could be heard from the other side of the door. Tara was about to tell whoever it was to go away, but then she realized who those knocks belonged to.

“Come in.”

“Hey,” you greeted, carrying a bottle of ibuprofen and a cup of water.

“Hey,” she replied, head tracking your movement as you put the items down and got closer to where she sat at the edge of her bed.

“Mind if I…” You gestured to the open spot next to her and she patted it. You sat down, knees touching hers as you looked down at your hands that rested in your lap. Tara’s gaze from you only broke when she felt the feeling of embarrassment all over again.

You noticed a change in her demeanor, causing you to finally glance at her. “I don’t think she meant for to…make you feel embarrassed or anything,” you tried to comfort. You were never good at this kind of stuff.

“I know… I just—I just completely embarrassed myself out there. You guys probably think a lot less of me now…”

You lightly nudge her shoulder, getting her to look at you again. “Hey, no, okay? We just wanna make sure you're safe,” your facial expression matched your honest tone as you spoke.

Tara turned her head away, a smirk slowly growing on her face. She turned back to look at you, ignoring how close your faces were. “We?”

You rolled your eyes as Tara kept hers on you, smirk never falling. “Don’t let it get to that big ass ego of yours.”

“Aww, you caree about me,” Tara teased. You felt your cheeks warm up as you grew flustered.

“I care about you the—bare minimum amount,” you said unconvincingly.

Tara shoved you a bit, “Liar.”

You shoved her back, “Most honest person you’ll ever meet.”

Tara shoved you back again. “Liar.”

“Oh, you really wanna play this game?” You inquired, turning your head to her.

Tara still smirked as she responded, “I could do this all night.”

Your faces were, once again, inches apart. Tara’s eye line meets your lips as tension builds in the room. Then suddenly the door opens, causing you and Tara to pull apart.

“Oops, sorry I didn’t mean to cock block you,” Quinn said as you and Tara silently cringed.

“Please...don't say cock," Tara said while slightly grimacing.

Quinn shrugged then looked at you. “Don’t believe we’ve officially met. I’m Quinn,” she held out her hand. You glanced at Tara before accepting the red head’s hand.

“I’m–”

“Y/N? Yeah, I’ve heard lots about you.” You couldn’t tell what that could’ve meant, not noticing the shared look between Quinn and Tara.

“Don’t you have, like, a guy to see or something?” Tara asked, trying to get Quinn out of here as soon as possible.

“Well, Tara’s right, I should get going,” Quinn said, immediately getting the hint. “See you around, Y/N,” she winked at you.

“That was…” You trailed off, not able to meet Tara’s gaze.

“Embarrassing? Oh, extremely.”

—

“Is Tara okay?” Charlotte asked over the phone. You held your phone to your ear as you grabbed a box of leftover pizza from the fridge with one arm.

“She will be…” You thought about the younger Carpenter as you spoke.

“I’m glad.” There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. “I uh… didn’t know you could fight like that.”

“What do you mean?” You placed the box on the table, sitting down.

“You had Frankie pinned. A man with his frame and build was completely defenseless under your hands. It was impressive,” her last words came with a flirty tone.

“Oh, yeah?” You decided to match her tone.

“Yeah… Do you want to come over tomorrow? My roommate's visiting his boyfriend so I’ll be pretty lonely—some company would be nice."

You bit your bottom lip, thinking as you looked at your calendar. “Yeah—yeah, that works. What time should I stop by?”

“Six good?”

You looked at your calendar again.

“Can’t do six…” You said, looking at Tara’s name on your calendar. “How about eight?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then, super soldier.”

You let out a light laugh, “Yeah, yeah. See you then.”

—

Tara was on the phone with Mindy, intensely debating over American Psycho, when she heard a couple knocks on the door.

She got up from the couch as she said goodbye to Mindy, hanging up. She opened the door to see you standing there with your bag on your shoulder.

“Hey.”

Tara realized it had been a full ten seconds since she opened the door. She moved to let you inside, and you sat in your usual spot.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Tara inquired as she sat, hugging her knees.

“He didn’t really give us much to work with on Friday so, uh, just whatever we missed last time,” you said, not even looking at her as you looked around your stuff.

“Looking for something?”

“Yeah my pen. It was here five seconds ago–”

“This pen?” Tara said, pulling something from behind your ear. You looked at her and realized she was holding your pen. She hands it to you as you let out a timid chuckle, embarrassed at your lack of attention.

“Are you…alright?” She asked, looking at your features as you spoke.

“It’s just exams and stuff. I’ve kind of been all over the place trying to prepare—but that’s why I’m here. To study. So let’s begin,” you pull out your binder, flipping to the right folder.

Tara hesitantly followed along, keeping an eye on you.

After an hour and a half, you looked at the time and silently cursed as you got up and gathered your things.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I’m meeting Charlotte around eight. So, I gotta get going,” you packed everything, racking your brain for anything else you could be forgetting.

“Oh..okay…”

You turned to look at Tara, “What is it?”

She cleared her throat, slightly shaking her head. “Nothing, have fun—oh, and don’t forget your pen,” she dismissed as she held up said pen to you.

You wear an embarrassed tight lipped smile, slowly taking the pen from her. “Thanks,” you put the pen in your bag before zippering it up.

“Uh, hey,” you heard Tara call out.

You stopped your movement, turning back to Tara. “See you later?”

You lightly nodded, a small smile on your face. “Of course.”

—

Tara found herself blasting Lana Del Rey as she wore a pout. Why was she wearing a pout? She had no idea. It was just there, and for some reason she was in a sour mood. She also knew she despised you. Possibly more than she did before; she was just starting to adjust then you had to go and make things even more confusing for her.

Tara looked at her ceiling as she laid in her bed, petting Dook who rested beside her. She suddenly remembered the beer in the fridge.

Sam was in therapy, Quinn was seeing another one of her hookups—what’s the harm?

Five beer cans later and she was more than buzzed. The urge to call you was getting harder and harder to resist with each can. She knew she shouldn’t, but she just couldn’t stop herself from opening your contact.

“Tara?” You asked, confused as to why she’s calling you so randomly.

“Y/NN,” she slurred into the phone. “Have I ever told you you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts?”

“I—uh, where are you right now?”

“Hommee. Where else?” She said, followed by a hiccup.

“I’m coming over.”

—

You knocked two times; you could hear Tara struggling with the door knob from the other side before finally opening it.

“What are you doing here?” Tara inquired with a raised eyebrow. It seemed she forgot about your call from just ten minutes ago.

“Goodness, you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk.”

“Oh, yeah? Then tell the time,” you crossed your arms as you looked at her. She turned to the nearby clock, “I am not drunk!” She literally told it.

“Jesus,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you walked over to her but then unexpectedly felt a shove to your chest.

“I don’t—I don’t need your help.”

You exhaled, knowing all too well about the venomous look she wore. “You don’t mean that, come on.”

“I do! I don’t even want you here,” she slurred as she shoved your chest again.

“Too bad then. Cause’ I’m not leaving you like this.”

Tara had used up all the energy she had left to shove you, so she couldn’t even fight you off as you tried to walk her to her bedroom.

“Fuck you,” she gritted.

“I know.”

“No. You don’t know!” Tara yelled. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor,” she continued as you looked down at her. “I’m not a princess who has to be saved all the time.”

“Come on, I know you’re no–”

“This is what you do,” she pulled her arm away from you, “you just swoop in when everything’s fine and completely ruin shit. You think you’re pleasant to be around? Just when I think I have my life figured out, you have to come in and ruin it,” Tara spoke with pure conviction, no slurring in her voice.

“I—I don’t know what to say.”

She let out a dry laugh before saying, “When do you ever.”

“You’re drunk, Tara… Please just let me get you to bed so you don't say anything else you’ll regret in the morning.”

“I don’t regret anything—and I’ll bring my own ass to bed.”

“Okay,” you softly said. You watched as she walked down the hall and to her bedroom. You waited a few minutes, getting the ibuprofen and water ready, before entering her bedroom carefully. Just as suspected, she was already asleep. You silently place the medicine and water on her nightstand before looking at her resting demeanor.

Oh Tara, what am I gonna do with you?

-----------

A/N: I 100% know you guys aren't expecting the family member reveal I'm gonna do for R at some point (clues are scattered...)

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax @andsoigotabutterfly

#tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #scream fic #let the light in au

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roseghoul26 · 24 days

Text

Part 2: ...It Will Come Back

Logan Howlett | Worst Wolverine x gn!Reader

Synopsis: Logan gets to know his next-door neighbor. Tags: Not Beta Read, Title From Hozier Song, It Will Come Back - Hozier, Next-Door Neighbor, Older Man/Younger Person, Reader Is Mid-20s, Logan Is 200, Reader Is Described As Shorter Than Logan, Gender-Neutral Pronouns For Reader, AFAB Reader, Fem Anatomy, Logan Is Down Bad, Horrendously Actually, He's A Little Pathetic, Alcohol Consumption, One-Sided Attraction, Not Actually One-Sided, Talks Of Masturbation, Cuddling, Nightmares, Morbid Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Mentions Of Throwing Up, Angst, Angst With Comfort, Smut, Virign!Reader, First Time, Bit Of A Pain Kink, Okay Major Pain Kink, Hair Pulling, Cunnilingus, Face Fucking (male receiving)(?), Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Protected Sex, Feelings Realization Author's Note: y’all know that one scene where he puts the cigar out on his hand? cannot stop thinking about it someone sedate me also this chapter does have a pretty grotesque nightmare scene so head up (just bloody and violent, body horror is the best way to describe it even though it’s not that accurate). Taglist: @kemi707 @moonixlity @chexrybloss0m @foreverwing223 Part 1 ❉ Part 2

It had been two weeks since that night.

He’d been over three times since then, and currently stood outside your door, waiting for a fourth. He would’ve been over more, if he had the time, and didn’t want to seem too eager, even though every nerve in his body itched to be in your presence.

It was strange. He thought his infatuation with you would die after the novelty wore off, but it was just as strong as the first day, and even more so. Like a sickness, it had taken its hold on his body, his brain, his heart, but he needed no cure. And he found he wasn’t going through the motions of life anymore, just passing the day by until something big happened. You were the big thing; he had something to look forward to now.

Most nights were the same with you. You’d serve dinner, usually leftovers from earlier in the week, but it was still the best food he’d eaten in a while. And Logan would find some way to repay you, usually by getting you to tell him about a maintenance project you’d been “forgetting” to do. You’d given up on trying to tell him it was unnecessary, only providing an amused shake of your head.

The nights ended with the two of you sitting on the couch, chatting like you had the first time, but nothing more. The conversations varied widely, but never once again had either of you brought up his mutation. At this point, he was almost scared to tell you about them. It wasn’t entirely his fault that it hadn’t been brought up, but he certainly was withholding information that you deserved to know.

He’d gotten braver in a different way, or “grew a pair”, as Wade had said, letting his fingers graze against your hand, resting his hand on the small of your back as he navigated around your apartment. And, to his immense relief, you liked it, a small shiver and one of those small smiles pulling at your lips. It was the only way he knew that you wanted something deeper than a platonic relationship.

But that was the extent of anything physical happening. That desire, that hunger, still ravaged his body, yet he made no move to relieve it. The familiarity and comfort of the “routine” the two of you had created was like a safety blanket; as long as he stayed beneath its protection, didn’t step over the proverbial line in the sand, he wouldn’t lose you. He could make himself be fine with these brief touches if that meant you were still here with him, and he’d go at your pace for as long as it took.

But now he stood outside your door, much like a stray scratched at someone’s door once they’d offered them food. Kindness. Safety. He knocked before he thought too much about it. It echoed throughout the hallway, and he shifted on his feet as he waited.

He heard some commotion from the other side, your familiar voice making him smile. He’d found he’d been smiling more, and he liked to think it was because of these late-night meetings. And he wouldn’t admit it, but he rather enjoyed not having a constant scowl etched on his features, no furrow between his brows.

The door opened after a few seconds of waiting, your face a bright beacon that dazzled him still. Like clockwork, that familiar twist in his gut appeared, a fluttering feeling that either made him feel ill or weightless.

You smiled at him, just like you always did; he would do anything to keep you reacting to him like that. “Hi, Logan,” you spoke normally, but you might as well have been purring his ear, the way he had to fight back a shiver. Taking a step back, you wordlessly let him into your apartment, a place that was now starting to become familiar to him, or at least part of it; what he’d give to become as acquainted with the other rooms.

The night went on as normal, eating and chatting a second nature now, a familiar dance. You’d talk, he’d respond. He’d make a joke, you’d laugh. He’d let his fingers drag over your hand, your face would duck down, a sharp inhale from you that he could only hear because of his enhancements. A back-and-forth; he just didn’t know how much longer he could go before he broke.

“Is there anythin’ you need from me, sweetheart?” I’d give you my heart if you just asked.

“Not tonight, no.” You laughed at his incredulous look. “I swear! But…”

“But?”

“There has been this movie I’ve been wanting to watch.” You still had a bit of laughter in your voice, yet there was now an air of uncertainty to it.

He didn’t even have to know what movie you wanted to watch. The possibility of having you close to him was the only thing that was important to him. He was getting ahead of himself; the most that had happened was those light brushes and touches. But now could be the moment to change that, he supposed.

“I guess,” he grumbled, shooting you a playful smirk to let you know that he wasn’t opposed. Far from it.

He hated the small flicker of relief that flashed in your eyes. Like he could ever say “no” to you. Standing, you quickly made your way to the couch, Logan following closely behind, sitting in his usual spot against the armrest. And you would’ve sat in your spot, if it wasn’t for the feline currently occupying it, sleeping without a care in the world.

He watched as your eyes flicked from your spot to the unoccupied one in the center next to Logan, and then finally to him. You were uncertain, but beneath that, he could see the longing in your eyes. “I won’t bite,” he found himself saying without much thought, gesturing to the unopened spot, a teasing grin on his face, “unless you want me to.” It was cheesy, yes, but effective.

That was something he’d started doing, over the past few weeks. Teasing you. No longer accidental innuendo, his words were intentional, and set on getting you as flustered as possible. It reminded him of back when he was younger, cocky and self-assured, unabashedly flirtatious. It’d been a while since he’d flexed those muscles, but they worked just as easily as they had in the past. The roll of your eyes was forced, the grin you tried to bite back telling you all that he needed to know.

He could feel the heat from your body when you sat next to him, barely an inch between you two. Maybe he was being over-confident, but he rested his arm across your shoulder, truly feeling like a teenager on a first date at a movie theatre. And when you tensed for a second, he worried he’d crossed a line. But when you melted into his embrace, something like a relieved sigh escaping you, any hesitations left his mind.

You were resting against his chest now, the TV screen painting the room in an unnatural glow, images flashing across the screen out of his periphery. You were saying something, too, but he couldn’t make it out, too caught up in the haze he was in at your proximity. The smell of you, God, he could get drunk off of it. And maybe he already was, with the way his head spun, unable to focus on anything but you.

“Does that sound good?”

Shit, you’d been talking to him about the movie. He found himself nodding in agreement, and if you suspected that he hadn’t been listening, you did a good job of hiding it. You just settled back against his chest, your legs stretched out, but placed in a way to avoid Maize.

He never thought he’d be so thankful for a fucking cat.

The movie started, but Logan only caught glimpses of it. Some kind of action/drama, he wasn’t quite sure. How could he pay attention to the movie, when there was a far better sight lying on his chest, smiling and enjoying the movie? And when that smile broadened as he let his hand move up and down your arm, the movie was an afterthought, background noise at this point.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been, time insignificant to him, when he felt your body go lax, something fluttering in his heart when he realized you’d fallen asleep on him. The pure trust you had in him, that hit like a punch to the stomach, nearly making him recoil. You… you shouldn’t place this much trust in him. You’d shoved something fragile, delicate into his hands, hands that could only drop and destroy such things.

He should wake you, get you as far away from him as possible.

But he watched as your face furrowed in your sleep, affection and something else hitting him so strongly that he was grateful he was already sitting down. Prying the remote from your hands proved an easy task, and tried to not linger on just how soft your fingers were. Shutting off the TV, he somehow was able to get himself off the couch without waking you, completely unaware of the turmoil wracking his brain.

Picking you up bridal style, he was glad he knew where your room was so that he wasn’t blundering around like a fool. It took some effort, only because his eyes kept landing on your face rather than the space around him, but he eventually made his way to your room, laying you on the bed gently. Wrapping the blankets around your body, he debated pressing a kiss to your temple but thought against it. He was just about to leave when he heard your voice call out, laden with sleep, nearly inaudible.

“Stay?”

Fuck, he shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. But it was like you’d put a spell on him, your soft plea impossible to deny. And the way you were looking at him now, sleepy eyes so full of genuine longing for him; he found he couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to say no, no matter how much he should’ve.

With a soft sigh, he relented, slipping beneath the blankets on the other side of your bed. As uncomfortable as it was to sleep in jeans, he refused to undress, not wanting you to wake up and see him bare, and with no clue of what transpired. He’s slept in far worse, anyway. And with the sheer presence of you surrounding him, he doubted it would be hard for him to sleep, anyway.

He expected you to keep your distance but was proven wrong when he felt your chest press against his, having turned to face him. He didn’t get to look at you for long before you buried your head beneath his chin, arms and legs wrapping around his body, effectively trapping him. Not that he’d want to be anywhere else.

He heard you doze off again, muttering something completely indistinguishable. Finally giving into the earlier temptation, he let his lips brush the top of your head, inhaling deeply, praying that he wouldn’t wake up to your regretful face.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

There was blood.

Too much blood.

It coated everything as far as the eye could see, a scarlet paint that glistened in the moonlight. When he looked down at his hand, they seemed to be the source of it, as familiar as an old friend. His claws were out, no sliver of the metal visible.

Glancing around, the ground shifted; what was once a flat, crimson landscape was now covered in mounds, at least fifteen feet high. Mounds of bodies. He tried to take a step, but his ankle stepped on something soft, malleable.

Looking down, the ground beneath his feet was no longer, well, ground. Countless bodies now littered the floor, their faces twisted in horror and pain, eternally sketched onto their features. And their faces weren’t unknown to him, either, a sense of dread washing over him as with each body he saw, their faces were immediately recognizable. Xavier. Scott. Jean. Wade. Too many faces to name.

They were all looking at him now, faces that were once twisted in pain now in anger. Betrayal. The blood on his hands now made sense, the various slashes and holes that he now saw across their bodies now painting a bloody picture.

He heard footsteps behind him, fast footsteps, completely unaffected by the difficult terrain. He was almost like a feral animal, the way he spun with a snarl, claws ready at his side. It was like he was moving on instinct, but there was a voice in his mind, his voice, praying for all this to stop. He just ignored it, drowning it out with the slow, methodical beat of his heart.

Boom.

BOOM.

His heartbeat morphed into a canon fire, making his ears ring, as he watched a shadowed figure run towards him. They ran, yet they seemed to glide over the grotesque terrain, completely unaffected. It was as if they were made of smoke; he swore he could see through their form.

The shadowed figure didn’t stop, not even as Logan braced himself for an attack, crouching down low. It was when the intruder got within a few feet of him that he sprung, claws plunging right into the belly of the stranger.

He expected his hands to go right through.

Instead, they connected with something solid, something warm. Flesh. His lips were pulled into a snarl as he watched his blades sink in, which turned into a look of horror when he watched the shadow fall from their body.

Your body.

He could hear the air leave your body upon impact, unimaginable pain in your eyes as you stared into his. He screamed at himself to remove his claws, and he, thankfully, listened. It was like he’d been caught in a bloodlust, and he’d just now snapped out of it.

He caught you before your body hit the ground. The ground, which was back to normal, but all he could focus on was you. The way your blood now coated his hands as it pooled out of your stomach, out between your lips. Desperately, futilely, he pressed down on your stomach, the cry of pain you let out making tears spring to his eyes.

“Fuck… fuck…” Blood pooled between his fingers. Too much blood. Your eyes, always filled with light and joy, were starting to dim. And then the anguish he felt when he saw fear flashed through them, using your last remaining strength to push away from him, wrapping your weakening hands around his wrists. “I-I… I didn’t mean…”

It was too late. Too late for explanations, for apologies. The damage had been done; there was nothing he could say or do that could change that. He could feel the way your hands began to slacken, growing weaker by the second, your eyes fluttering close. “No, no, sweetheart,” he pressed down harder as if that could fix it, “Keeps those eyes on me. Please.”

He could barely recognize his own voice.

But you listened, your eyes opening once more. But he almost preferred if you closed them, that way he didn’t have to see the pain, the fear, the betrayal. All because of him.

He couldn’t help the pained cry that tore from his throat. And to think he thought he could have someone like you in his life and not have it end any other way.

Your lips were moving, now, but he couldn’t hear you over the high-pitched ringing in his ears. It was just one word, on repeat, and despite his best efforts, he could feel himself getting entranced by the way your lips moved, the horrific scene around him becoming blurry.

Then he realized you were saying his name.

Logan.

“Logan!”

It was like someone flipped a switch, your voice now hitting his ears, completely audible now. And you were no longer in his arms, but rather leaning above him, a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. When you saw his eyes, you pulled back, barely in time to avoid getting toppled over by the force he sat up at.

His breathing came in heavy pants, his heartbeat the complete opposite of the one in his dream. Nightmare. It had all been a fucking nightmare, the relief unimaginable as he took in his surroundings. It was no longer the bloody landscape, but a room. Your room.

Nightmares weren’t uncommon for him. At least once a week, he’d wake with a start, claws ready to swipe at an unseen enemy, drenched in a cold sweat. He should’ve known better than to fall asleep in your bed. He was supposed to be strong, relied upon by you. God, he should’ve known better.

He forced himself to look over to the other side of the bed, still expecting to see your wounded body. How grateful he was that you were sitting upright, kneeling beside him on the bed, worry making your brow furrow as your eyes scanned over him. Your eyes, which were no longer filled with distrust and pain, but of genuine concern.

“You… I…” He couldn’t get a sentence out, his body forcing oxygen in and out of his body at such a rapid pace.

“Breathe, Logan,” your voice was firm, but far from uncaring. “You’re alright. Just take a deep breath for me.”

It was like his body was wired to follow your orders, a shaky yet longer inhale finally gracing his lungs. You nodded your approval, yet no less worried. He hated that he was the cause of it. “Now out. Slowly.”

It took a few more deep breaths by your instruction until he didn’t feel like he was suffocating, yet his heart had yet to slow down. “Are you alright?” Was the first thing he said when he could talk, his voice surprisingly hoarse.

Confusion flashed across your face, which quickly turned into surprised understanding. You didn’t respond, not right away. Instead, you let your fingers brush his wrist, a silent question, not sure if he wanted to be touched yet. When he nodded once, you wrapped your hand around it, but instead of pulling him away, you tugged him towards you, resting his hand against your chest.

“I’m alright,” you finally spoke, your voice gentle. He could feel it beneath his fingers, and then the beat of your heart. It was constant. Strong. You were alright.

“You’re bleeding.”

He barely heard you, entranced by the rhythm of your heart, feeling as his own heart slowed to match yours. You’re alright, he repeated in his head. He could barely feel the familiar sting between his fingers.

“Logan, your hands. They’re bleeding.”

It was the urgency in your voice that finally snapped him out of the trance, finally focusing on the hand that rested on your chest. To his horror, you were right, the space between his knuckles was now splotched with congealed blood. It was nothing to the scene he’d created in his mind, but for a moment, he saw his hands once again covered in your blood, and he swore he was going to be sick.

Bolting from the bed, he stumbled over his own feet as he practically ran to the kitchen, not even waiting for the water to warm before he scrubbed his hands.

And scrubbed.

He scrubbed until his hands stung, then faded as his powers kicked in. He didn’t hear you as you approached, calling his name out softly. But not patronizingly. He almost wanted you to be, so that he didn’t have to know how deeply you cared about him during his weakest. He didn’t want you to see him like this.

A warm presence made itself known beside him, yet not touching. He saw as you turned off the water, a towel in your other hand. You held out an open hand, and it took a few seconds of hesitating before he was resting one of his hands in yours.

You were so gentle as you dried his hands. Hands that had inflicted unimaginable pain unto you, you were now regarded as delicate objects, a small frown on your face as you worked.

Nightmare, he reminded himself. It was just a nightmare.

“Just a nightmare,” you echoed, making him realize that he’d spoken aloud.

He watched as you dried his other hand, the act doing more to calm his pounding heart than he thought. Beneath the whirlwind of emotions that whipped around his mind, there was a warm sensation, one that started in the chest, and blossomed out across his buzzing nerves, calming them.

The world wasn’t spinning anymore; you were there to ground him.

“Are you bleeding anywhere else?”

Your eyes roamed over his body, and he could feel the concern radiating from you. He shook his head. He knew exactly what had caused the blood; he just didn’t know if you’d seen it.

His response just made your brows furrow deeper, looking almost like him. “Then how…” he heard you mutter to yourself, only picking it up because of his enhancements. “You’re being honest?” Your confusion was understandable, seeing blood between his knuckles with no explanation, no wound remaining as evidence. It was just there.

“I swear.”

You sighed lightly, your worry not letting up. Tossing the towel to the counter beside you, he expected you to drop his hand but was pleasantly surprised when you wove your fingers through his instead. If only you knew the images that still haunted his mind.

“Do you remember when you asked me if I was more than just a construction worker?” He wasn’t quite sure why he decided now was the time to tell you. Maybe he knew you deserved an answer. Or maybe he knew he didn’t have to bear this weight alone any longer. Either way, it was too late for him to back out, your head tilting in confusion.

“And then how I said you weren’t wrong.”

“Logan, you don’t gotta-”

“Please.” His voice was still so hoarse. “If I don’t tell you now, then I never fucking will.”

“Alright.” It was quieter than a whisper.

“How much do you know about Wade? About his… abilities?”

“I know he can’t die,” you responded. “Grows back limbs, survives the impossible. Are… are you the same?”

“Essentially the same,” he muttered, not wanting to get into the finer details.

If anything, you just looked more confused now. He didn’t have to read your mind to know what you were thinking. What does this have to do with anything?

“And… there’s a bit more to it.”

As much as he didn’t want to pull away from your hold, he did, holding it close to his chest. As far away as he could from you.

He felt the familiar sting as he let his claws extend; what once used to hurt was background noise. As the adamantium blades stood in all their glory, a ring of red grew where they appeared from the skin.

Your answer to where the blood came from.

As quickly as they appeared, they were gone, rescinding back into his skin with a soft metallic noise. And, like always, the skin began to close not even a second later, with no evidence of his claws existing besides the small patches of blood.

He hadn’t looked at you once during this time, not wanting to see the fear, the disgust he knew he was going to see. But he forced himself to meet your eye; he wasn’t sure if he liked that your expression barely changed. You were silent, and he couldn’t stand and wait for you to respond; he was too fucking scared.

He turned back toward the sink, washing his hands for what felt like the millionth time that night. When he reached for the towel, however, he found that it was gone, nearly jumping when he felt you grasp his hand again.

It was almost pathetic, the shaky exhale he let out when he felt you begin to dry his hands, just as gently as you had before. Acceptance. There was no disgust or fear on your face; he was foolish for thinking that you would hold that kind of reaction. He felt like he could breathe again, free of the weight that had plagued him for so long.

Even when his hands were dry, you didn’t let go, bringing one of his hands closer to your face. You met his eye, then, your free hand hovered above, a silent question in the act. He nodded, still partially convinced it was all some trick.

He shivered when he felt your fingers drag across his knuckles, then down, following the prominent tendons and veins in his hand. “They’re in here?” He swore you nearly sounded in awe. Just like always, there was no other intention in your questions except for sheer curiosity.

“Yes.” His voice was shaky once again, this time because of the way you trailed your fingers across his hand, nearly reverent in your motions.

They stilled for a second. “Do they hurt you?” There was a genuine worry to your tone; it made his heart ache. That warm feeling was like a goddamn inferno now, ready to consume him.

“I’ve gotten used to it.”

Another few moments passed of you simply touching him, the most you’d ever done. It made his head spin, for a good reason this time. “Were…” your voice was hesitant, cautious, “were you afraid that I was going to, well, be afraid? Is that why you didn’t tell me earlier?”

You’d just read him like a fucking book. “Why aren’t you afraid?” To any other person, those words would be a threat, one that would send them running. But he nearly sounded incredulous, suspended in disbelief.

“You’ve given me no reason to be.”

The pure honesty in your voice nearly forced him to believe you. Nearly. “You… you don’t know the things I’ve done, sweetheart. The people I’ve hurt. Betrayed. Let down. People I know. People I care about. People I love. They’ve got reason to be fucking afraid. And you should be, too.”

He was trying to push you away. You both knew it. He just couldn’t bear the idea of his nightmares becoming reality. This was for your own good, for your wellbeing. You needed to get as far away from him as you could.

“But I’m not.” You punctuated every word, drilling it into his brain. Your fingers now grasped his hand, squeezing it tight. “There are many things I feel when I look at you, Longan. Fear has never been one of them.”

“Not yet.”

“Not ever.”

“You don’t fuckin’ know that. I could hurt you, just like in my dreams-”

“Dreams, darling. Just dreams. Nasty, horrible dreams, but dreams nonetheless.” He could feel your thumb rubbing circles into his hand. He wondered if you could feel the way his heart spiked at the endearment, body melting under the warmth of your affections.

He could feel the pillars of his argument crumble away into nothingness, the barriers he’d forced up falling with every word from your lips, every gentle stroke of your hand. You were marching straight towards his heart, his scared, wounded heart, but your arms were open wide, free of any weapon.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” It was one last-ditch attempt, but he knew it was unconvincing the moment the words left him.

“You won’t, Logan.”

He could make himself believe you. For now.

He wasn’t sure how long the two of you stood there, you never once letting go of his hand. The urge to reach out, to gather you in his arms, tugged at him like a siren’s call, but he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop there. Affection thrummed so strongly in his heart, that it nearly knocked him off his feet, body burning alive. It was a welcome sensation.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya earlier.”

You shook your head at that. “You don’t gotta apologize. I understand why you didn’t say anything, but I hope you’ll be more honest in the future. I wanna help you, and I… I want you to trust me. To let me in. To be a part of your life.”

It took a few moments for him to register what exactly you were saying, and for the first time since he woke, a smile found itself tugging at his lips. Not a smirk, not a grin. A genuine fucking smile; he doubted he’d recognize himself in the mirror.

He let his free hand sneak behind your body, resting on the small of your back. A sharp inhale left you when he tugged you close, but he could see the excitement in your widened eyes. Nervous, yes, but excited.

He dropped your hand, but he didn’t go without feeling your skin for long. He let his hand hold the side of your face; he doesn’t think he’s ever concentrated this hard on being gentle. It still stunned him, just how beautiful you were, gazing up at him with stars in your eyes. He was scared of dimming them, but damn if he wasn’t gonna try and keep them blazing bright.

“Can I be honest right now?”

He felt you nod, your eyes dancing across his face. The tense and despair-ridden atmosphere from earlier had dissipated, a charged and heated one taking its place. That hunger, that desire, which he’d worked so hard to reign in, was breaking free of its confines; he didn’t think he’d have to hold out much longer, though.

“I’d really like to fuckin’ kiss you.”

Even with the way his hand cradled your face, the way he pressed you in close, you nearly seemed surprised. He watched as you swallowed nervously, teeth pulling gently at your bottom lip. How he craved it to be his teeth, dragging and nipping at your skin. You just needed to give him the go-ahead.

He didn’t have to wait long. Your voice was airy when you spoke, nodding in tandem with your words. “Alright.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up, the only proof of the fucking elation he felt. He’d no longer have to imagine what your lips would feel like, taste like. Leaning down, he heard the slight intake in your breath, the proximity making you just as dizzy as it was making him.

His lips were millimeters away, anticipation heavy in the air. He felt like he should say something, words on the tip of his tongue, but his ability to speak them was lost. It didn’t matter; he was never good with his words anyway. His actions were what talked.

So he closed the distance, the press of your lips sending electricity coursing through his body. His imagination didn’t even begin to it justice; he’d failed to capture the warmth. You were soft and warm and alive. A pleased hum left him, passing through his body into yours, making you shiver in his hold.

He kept the kiss short, wanting nothing more than to devour you, but he was going to take this slow, do it right. You deserved that, and so much more. Your eyes were hooded when he looked, a new hunger in them that he’d never seen before. Or maybe it had always existed, and he just refused to believe it was real. That you were real. That this was real. If he woke up from a dream right now, his disappointment would be immeasurable, but he wouldn’t be surprised.

He still held you, thumb rubbing your cheek affectionately, and you practically melted into the touch. “Logan.” your voice was hushed, already sounding wrecked, and the pure want he felt radiate from it was enough to make him stifle a groan.

“You want more, sweetheart?”

He could feel the grip on his control falter when you nodded, a desperation in your actions that made him think you’d wanted him just as long as he had you. A question for later, then. “Only if you’re up for it.”

So much for keeping it slow.

He’d nearly forgotten the reason why the two of you were standing in your kitchen. Your words had done much to comfort him, your actions even more so, and even though there were still inklings of doubt and fear still lingering in his mind, they were easy to ignore right now. You were safe. You were alive. And for some fucking reason, you trusted him wholly.

“I’ve been up for it since I saw ya, pretty thing struggling to get their door open.”

“You think I’m pretty?” He hated how disbelieving you sounded.

Titling your head back gently, he let his nose bump against yours, his lips just ghosting over yours. You watched with hitched breath, eyes struggling to stay open. There were so many things he could say, should say. Words like gorgeous and stunning bounced around his head, but he was so close to kissing you again that all verbal functions in his brain ceased to exist again. “Very, very pretty,” was all he could say, before he once again descended on your lips.

The first kiss had been nearly chaste, gentle. A testing of the waters.

This kiss was anything but that, an overwhelming neediness from both sides. He kissed you like it was the last thing he’d ever do, lips eagerly moving against yours, fingers tightening where he held you like he was afraid you’d slip away.

He could feel you hesitate, right at the start, but it didn’t take long until you were reciprocating, hands now resting on his chest. Your movements were uncertain, yet your eagerness more than made up for your lack of finesse. It made him feel desired, wanted, a heady sensation.

But it made him realize just how much more experience he had compared to you. Reservations once again flashed in his mind: you were young, this was wrong, you deserved someone your own age. But with how sweetly you were kissing him, he found himself losing grip on those thoughts, until they fell to the wayside, completely forgotten.

The hands on his chest tightened into fists when he let his tongue drag against your bottom lip, a light tease. The hand on your back moved forward, over your ribs, to where it began to toy beneath the hem of your shirt, caressing the velvety skin of your stomach. With every graze of his nails, every brush of his fingers, you shivered, tensed, and hitched your breathing. He felt like he was playing an instrument, pulling those sounds and reactions from you like he’d just strummed his fingers over the string of a guitar.

“You’re so fuckin’ responsive,” he muttered to himself between kisses. “It’s been a bit since you’ve been touched like this, hasn’t it?” Just like it has been for him. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d been touched with a kind hand, at least before he met you.

You froze, pulling away slightly, looking like a deer in the headlights. He called out your name, a question, wracking his memory as to what put you off. Of course, I fucked it up.

“I…” you trailed off, embarrassment flickering across your face. “No one’s ever…” you trailed off again, but he didn’t need you to complete your sentence.

He’d be a liar if he said the green monster inside of him wasn’t absolutely thrilled at the fact that no one had ever had you like this. Wanting. Needing. Lips swollen and parted for him. Your hesitancy over the past weeks made sense now; it wasn’t a lack of wanting, not like he feared. He couldn’t help the grin that fell across his face, a carnal need to show you all that you’ve been missing, all that you deserved, taking over his mind.

Another realization made itself known in his heart; he was sure if it ached anymore, it would never work properly again. You weren’t lying when you said you trusted him.

“That was your first kiss?” Well, kisses, but he wasn’t focused on logistics right now.

He could feel your cheek warming beneath his palm. “Logan…” you whined, shy.

It made him chuckle, a low, gravelly sound. “No one’s ever touched you?” His fingers once again brushed beneath your shirt, your muscles instinctually jumping.

Your silence was the only response he needed.

He let himself lean in, past your lips, letting them graze across your cheek. They rested outside the shell of your ear, the temptation to pull at with his teeth a near insurmountable one. “No one’s ever fucked you?”

That made you gasp. Whether it was his crude words or how he spoke lowly into your ear, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that you now had a death grip on his shirt, shaking your head in response to his question.

He tsked, pulling back, a teasing look on his face. “And I thought we were bein’ honest with each other, sweetheart. How long were ya gonna wait to tell me?”

The look you shot him made him laugh, incredulous through the haze of lust. “You know that’s not what I meant. It’s… it’s not the same as-”

“Oh, but it is. Closely guarded secret, weren’t gonna say nothin’ until I asked. Exactly the same.” The hand holding your face finally shifted down, down your neck, your shoulders, ghosting over your ribs until it settled on your hip. “Want me to change that?” He intended for the words to sound cocky, assured, yet they came out sounding desperate. Craving.

Your chuckle died in your throat, turning it into a softer, needier noise. “Please.”

He wasn’t sure who closed the distance this time, both of you surging forward, a messy collision of lips. He felt you make a surprised noise when his hands trailed down your thighs, and in one easy motion lifted you into his arms, your legs instantly locking around his waist. Not once did his lips escape yours, not even as he set you on the kitchen table, the wood groaning in warning. If he wasn’t so fucking eager for you, he would’ve taken you to the bed. He’d get there tonight. Eventually.

Fingers once again found the side of your face, this time tilting your head back to expose the tantalizing expanse of your neck. He abandoned your lips in favor of it, immediately kissing and sucking at the delicate skin there, slowly moving down. He even let his teeth graze against the column of your throat, but never hard enough to leave a mark. Never to mark.

Leaving your mouth free meant that he got to hear each delicious pant and noise that escaped you, echoing and engraving themselves in his mind. They drove him wild, even more so when he remembered that he was the cause of them. And no one else had ever had the pleasure of hearing them. The fact made his smile against your skin, how having reached the base of your throat, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

You leaned back, your arms braced behind you, and the sound of wood creaking once again filled the room. “If the table breaks…” you warned, no real threat in your words.

“You know I’ll fix it for ya,” he chuckled, lifting his face to press his lips against the hollow of your throat, before letting his tongue drag a stripe back up your neck, tasting the salt on your skin. “And then we’ll just have to break it again. And again.”

A whispered, “Oh, God,” fell from your lips. Only me, he would’ve said if talking wasn’t the last thing on his mind. He captured your lips again, tongue pressing into your mouth with zero hesitations, needing to taste you. He could feel your responding groan, one hand abandoning its hold on the table to once again rest against his chest. He expected to feel your hand wander, but it held still, though he could feel the twitch in your fingers as you craved to feel him.

“Touch me,” he broke away momentarily to speak, and he felt your fingers twitch again. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let me feel those hands.”

He nearly shuddered when you finally moved, running your hand up his chest, up to his neck. Just like always, your touch was gentle, reserved, which was lovely, but he wanted to feel the evidence of his effects on you. He wanted to feel your nails digging into his arms, scratch down his back, tangle your fingers in his hair, and pull. He wanted to feel your teeth sink into his flesh; the mark wouldn’t last long, this he knew, but it would be enough. Just maybe he’d be able to dissolve those hesitancies.

So he hummed under your delicate exploration with your fingers, letting you get used to him, the way he felt. He felt as your fingers cradled his jaw, scratching at the facial hair there, but not as hard as he would’ve liked. It was certainly a pleasant sensation, though, his eyes threatening to fall close with every scratch of your nails. And when your fingers traveled to his hair, nails running along his scalp, he couldn’t help the small sigh that left him.

He loved the way your eyes lit up at his audible reaction, and he could see you storing that away for later. God, how he hoped there would be a later. You had no idea just how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger. If you told him to leave and never come back, he would, but he would live the rest of his life in misery, waiting to hear from you one last time.

It was you who pulled him into a kiss, one that quickly turned heated. Hands were moving freely now, one of your hands still in his hair, your other wandering across the expanse of his chest and abdomen. His own were toying with the waistband of your pants, pausing to look at you. “May I?”

There were no doubts in your eyes when you nodded, Logan thanking you with another kiss. The first part was the easiest, getting the button undone, as well as the zipper. The second part, which was still easy, just required a bit more maneuvering. He felt as you prepared to lift your hips to assist, but he was already ahead of you, one hand wrapping under your arm, the other gripping the waistband of your jeans. It was no effort at all, to lift you with one arm, and to pull your pants down over your hips. And if your undergarments also came off in that tug, who was he to complain?

You were staring at him with wide eyes, a look he momentarily mistook for distaste. But the darkening of your eyes quickly corrected that statement. You didn’t say anything, just looking at him in amazement, fingers wandering down his muscled arm. But he could feel the way your legs tensed from where he stood between them, an even more ravenous hunger in your eyes. You enjoyed being lifted like you weighed nothing. Just like you had, he stored that info for later. Something to explore later, maybe even later tonight.

The surprised noise you made when he dropped to his knees nearly made him chuckle if he wasn’t so entranced by the sight in front of him. Your mouth, glistening in the low light, parted as you stared down at him. The heavy rise and fall of your chest beneath your shirt, yet waiting for his next move with bated breath. Your exposed pussy, evidence of your arousal visible, and all for him.

“Fuckin’ beautiful.”

The grin he had on his face, he knew, was nothing more than arrogant, but he couldn’t help himself. Hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, never once breaking eye contact.

He pressed another one, this one a little closer to your center. He was practically fucking salivating, the urge to just start devouring you like a starved man would a full-course dinner. But the desire to make this enjoyable for you helped him curb his hunger.

The third and final kiss was pressed right at the junction of your hip and thigh, millimeters away from where he ached to be. Where you ached for him to be if the hand that carded into his hair told him anything. Who was he to deny such a simple request?

It only took one pass of his tongue through your folds for him to become addicted.

The way you tasted, the way your thighs clenched around his head, the soft pant of his name. Fuck, he loved it all. He continued to lap at you, broad swipes that left you keening and wanting more. Your fingers, which had a hold on his hair, pulled tight, and he fucking moaned.

He saw the alarm in your eyes before you tried to yank your hand away, afraid you’d done something he didn’t like. He caught your wrist before you could, forcing your hand back to where it’d been. You complied, but only slightly, refusing to bend your fingers. “Logan… I-I’ll hurt you,” you whispered, your speech not yet impeded by his tongue.

“I’m countin’ on it, sweetheart.”

The only way he knew you heard him was the flash of realization in your eyes, then laughing in disbelief, which sounded more like a harsh exhale, yet still not complying. “C’mon, make it hurt,” his voice was a growl at this point, and he could feel the way your body reacted to his words. You weren’t lying; you did like his voice. “I’m a big boy, I can handle ya.”

Finally, fucking finally, you sunk your fingers into his hair, and you pulled hard, pulling him deeper into you. He could die happy now; at least until he made you come. He turned vicious, like a switch had been flipped, tongue now targeting your clit with precise circular motions, occasionally pressing into your entrance, which earned him a beautiful moan from you.

He was hardly quiet, either, groaning with every pull and tug, and he knew you could feel it. The confines of his pants were becoming unbearable now, but he didn’t dare tear his hands away from your body to fix it. He doubted he’d have to wait long, anyway, with the way your thighs shook around his head, the way your walls fluttered around his tongue. The only thing you were crying was his name, a song that would be stuck in his head for the rest of time.

“Logan… I’m-”

“You gonna come, sweetheart?”

You made some noise in agreement, and he felt you tug him close, impossibly close. Fuck, he’d be tasting you for days. And then he felt you begin to rock your hips, back and forth, and you were using his fucking face to get off. The noise he let out at that realization was animalistic, more growl than groan; he felt like he was about to combust.

“Fuck, just like that… use my face, yeah…” He didn’t cease the movements of his tongue, but he began to help you rock your hips. “Come on my face, c’mon…”

It didn’t take long after that, a loud cry of Logan’s name cut in the air, and he was grateful that he’d kept his eyes trained on you, the sight of your head falling back in pleasure a sight he wouldn’t forget. The muscles in your thighs tensed and quivered, a gush of arousal escaping you, coating his lower face.

It was when your legs fell boneless beside him that he finally let up, kissing the insides of your thighs one last time before standing back to full height. Your eyes widened when you saw the absolute disarray he knew he was in, hair tufted up more than normal, face slick with your release. But the grin he had on his face made you relax, with a weary smile of your own. But there was still a deep hunger in your eyes; you wanted more, and he’d gladly give it to you.

He surged in to kiss you, but you stopped him with a hand against his chest, a playful yet semi-serious look in your eye. You didn’t respond verbally, instead gesturing to the towel that had been discarded earlier.

He raised a brow. Really?

You laughed. “I’m not kissing you until you wipe your face,” you finally spoke, voice wreaked. “Your choice, darling.”

“As long as you call me that again,” he muttered, quickly grabbing the towel and wiping his lower face, a small price to pay, “Then I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to do.”

He stood in front of you, you still smiling from his words, hands resting on the side of your neck. He could feel your pulse, still thumping like a fast drum. “Can I kiss you now, Your Highness?”

You paused like you were seriously considering saying anything other than “yes”, but the way you leaned into him said that you’d already made up your mind. Your eyes flicked down to his lips, and the small nod you gave him was all he needed before surging forward again, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss.

“Bedroom?” He knew it was a redundant question, but he needed to be certain.

“You know the way.” Your arms wrapped around his body, legs following suit, you needing him as close as physically possible. It made it simple for him to lift you, only having to slide his hands under your thighs once again.

The journey to your bedroom, however, was anything but easy. You were constantly distracting him with your lips, having grown more confident in your movements. You strayed past his mouth now, dotting his cheeks with kisses, an innocent way of showing affection made lewd by the rocking of your hips. And when your lips finally landed on his neck, kissing and biting, he swore his arms were about to give out.

Eventually, after many stops pressing you against the wall and kissing the breath from your lungs, he made it to the bedroom, depositing you gently on the bed. You didn’t stay on your back for even a second, sitting upright as Logan began to tug off his shirt.

His ego has never been so filled, the way you stared at him when his shirt was finally off. He knew he was a decent-looking guy, having garnered the attention of many people throughout his lifetime. But there was something about the way you regarded him, like he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, that made him want to puff out his chest.

You only hesitated for a second before letting your hands drift across his chest; it pleased him to see you grow so confident around him in such a short amount of time. He heard you mutter something, too caught up in the sensation of the drag of your fingers to make it out. “What was that?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Not hot. Not sexy. Not something he’d heard a thousand times. No, you said beautiful. He… he couldn’t think of a time when someone’s called him that and meant it. It made him falter for a second, suddenly feeling vulnerable. But he forced himself to relax; he could be vulnerable with you, at least for a little bit.

So instead of deflecting your compliment with one of his own, at least not yet, he let the words wash over him, leaning down to brush his lips against yours. It was the gentlest kiss that night, yet so far, it had been his favorite. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

And just as quickly as it came, his vulnerable demeanor vanished, replaced by the confident aura he’d had all night. Tugging at the hem of your shirt, he murmured against your lips, “Lift your arms.”

When you did, he pulled your shirt from your body, tossing it somewhere on the floor, before letting out a noise that sounded wounded at the sight of you finally bare before him. He saw the instinctual twitch of your muscles as you almost covered yourself, but you kept your hands at your side.

“I think we both know who’s the beautiful one here,” he muttered, watching as you turned your head away, bashful. He would have none of that, now. Tugging your chin, he redirected your gaze to be on him again. “I should’ve said it earlier. Should’ve said it the moment I met ya. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Logan…”

“Do you know how fuckin’ hard it's been, trying to think about anything but you? Fuck, I can’t get you out of my mind. Every. Fuckin’. Minute.” He hadn’t meant for that much to spill out, but he certainly wasn’t complaining when your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a bruising kiss. The feel of your chest against his made him groan, lips opening against yours, and you used that opportunity to sneak your tongue in. You were getting so bold; it was driving him crazy.

Pretending like your sudden small display of dominance didn’t make his cock twitch, he eased you back down on the bed, your legs wrapped around his waist. The only barrier between you two was his jeans, and he could feel you began to rock your hips, grinding directly against his covered cock. But when you pulled your lips away to utter a surprised oh, your confidence faltering as you felt him.

“I’ll get ya nice and ready for me, gorgeous,” he couldn’t help the slight prideful tone; he was still a man, after all. He let his hands wander down your body, feeling and caressing as he went, making you arch your back in his hands, making a noise that nearly sounded like a laugh. When he reached your hips, you let your legs drop, and although he missed the sensation, what he was about to do would more than make up for it.

Sneaking a hand between your thighs, he collected your arousal on the tips of his fingers, his middle and ring, to be exact. He felt your hips jump, a bit sensitive still, but the look on your face told him that the last thing you wanted him to do was stop. He debated toying with you for a moment, to see you beg and plead with him to give you the pleasure he was withholding. But when your hips bucked again, he realized you were both equally as impatient.

He kept his eyes locked on your face as he eased his middle finger into you, no matter how badly he wanted to watch it disappear. A range of emotions flashed across your face: shock from the intrusion, to a mild discomfort as he stretched you, then to pleasure. Whenever he saw a flicker of any semblance of pain flash across your beautiful face, he slowed.

He knew he didn’t have to move as slowly as he did, but something twisted in his stomach at the mere idea of hurting you, even if it was in the name of pleasure. Those images were still too fresh, too raw in his mind. No, he was taking this slow.

When the palm of his hand ground against your clit, making you gasp. He could feel the way your walls clenched around him; knowing his cock would soon be in place of his fingers made him exhale shakily. “You take my fingers so fuckin’ well,” he praised, beginning to work his fingers in and out of you slowly, with short, shallow thrusts. “Bet you’ll take my cock even better.”

“Please.”

As much as he loved hearing you beg, it was for naught; he’d made up his mind the moment you had asked for more. “In a second,” he reassured, pressing his lips against yours in what was meant to be a short kiss, but then you grabbed the back of his head, keeping him close. He was far from caring, especially when he could feel your moans with every curl of his finger.

Adding a second finger, he pulled away once again to watch your face, looking for any flashes of pain. It was hard to stay focused, especially when your fingers latched around his bicep, nails digging in hard. It took every fiber of control in his body not to just sink his fingers all the way back in, groaning your name, nothing short of pure desire in his tone.

“Logan, darling-”

He had to muffle you with a kiss, stopping you from doing anything else that would make him do something reckless. His palm once again ground against your clit, giving you a moment to adjust before he was easing them in and out of you. And when he began to pick up the pace, moving his face down to lavish your chest with some much-needed attention, he could feel you slowly begin to fall apart.

“Just like that, yeah, you’re doin’ so well,” he crooned, the grip on his bicep turning deadly. “Fuck, you gonna come again, sweetheart?”

He felt you nod. As if he needed that confirmation. Pulling his head away from your chest, he saw your eyes, completely blacked out, then a flash of white as you bit your lip to stifle your noises.

If he currently wasn’t using his other arm to keep himself propped up, he would’ve tugged your lip free, to let your noises tumble free. “C’mon, lemme hear ya. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this fuckin’ good.”

Like your body was no longer under your control, you complied, your moans and whines once again filling the air. He heard his name a few times, making him grin; who knew his name could sound so lovely?

It only took a few more curling motions of his fingers before your body seized, your voice dying, the only thing audible was a whine of air. He didn’t cease his movements, riding you through the high of your orgasm. When the pleasure-filled look on your face began to morph, that’s when he eased his fingers out, glistening in the dim light. Your eyes had just landed on his face when he stuck them in his mouth, the corners of his lips pulled into a smirk.

He heard you mutter something about him trying to kill you, making him laugh as he released his fingers with a pop, the taste of you still lingering. “Gonna make me wipe my mouth again?” He teased, earning him a half-hearted eye-roll from you.

You finally seemed to realize the grip you had on his arm, your apology trailing off when you watched the injury immediately heal, no sign of you lingering. “Like I said, I can handle ya.” Fascination still lingered in your eyes, but not in the exploitative way he’d seen throughout his life, or the fear. When you pulled him into a kiss, he felt like he was something to be treasured, to be loved. He didn’t realize how desperately he craved to feel that way.

But he didn’t let himself linger on that thought long, especially when he felt you once again lock your legs around his waist, rocking your hips. “You are insatiable,” he grumbled, loving just how desperately you wanted him.

“I need you, Logan,” he felt you whisper in the kiss, your hands reaching for his belt buckle. Feeling your fingers brush over his cock, intentional or not, made him bite back a groan.

“Need you to let go of me first,” he chuckled, watching you frown momentarily before loosening your legs.

Not wanting to be apart from you long, he was quick to undo his belt, the zipping of his pants drowning out your hitched breathing. He couldn’t help the relieved noise he made when his cock was finally freed, the rest of his clothing now on the floor after working them down his legs. He could feel your eyes on him, all of him, staring at him like you had when he’d taken his shirt off.

It was then he realized a small, yet quite crucial part of this whole endeavor that he’d forgotten, not wanting to be presumptuous when he left his apartment earlier. “Sweetheart, you don’t happen to have-”

Like you’d read his fucking mind, you reached over to your nightstand, reaching for a box of condoms. A new, unopened box, he noted to himself, yet a smile crept across his face when you handed him a condom between your trembling fingers. “What?” You laughed.

“Just wonderin’ how long you’ve had that box for. Have you had it for a few months… or did you just buy it?”

It was becoming clear to him that his second favorite thing to do to you was tease you. The way your eyes widened, then looked away; he was certain if he pressed his hand to your cheeks, they would be burning. “Oh, go away,” you groaned, moving to shove him with your foot, but he caught it, pressing a kiss to your calf before dropping it.

“‘Fraid it’s a bit too late for that, now,” he muttered as he rolled on the condom. It would be impossible for him to unlearn the touch of your hand, the warmth of your body, your voice, and it would be impossible for him to unlearn the deep-rooted affections that ran so deeply for you.

“Thankfully.”

He tried not to dwell on the fact that he could hear that same affection in your voice; he would need at least a good day to fully process it, unable to believe it right now. Instead, he let hands trail up your legs, grabbing your thighs and squeezing lightly, considering his option of what to do next. He could have you on your back, legs wrapped around his body like you’d done earlier. Or he could have you on your hands and knees, or on top of him, or-

“How do you want this, sweetheart?”

“I…” you swallowed, nervous. “I wanna be able to see you.”

You were going to be the death of him, if you made his heart skip one more time. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, merely returning to the position he was in moments earlier, and your legs instinctually wrapped around his waist as if they belonged there. And maybe they did, with how right it felt.

Balancing his weight on one head, he used his free one to run his fingers along your cheek, then leaned in to kiss you. Your hands couldn’t decide where they wanted to rest, until finally tangling one in his hair, and the other holding his shoulder. He could feel your fingers curl when his tip nudged against your entrance, not pressing in yet.

“Ready?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound as strained as he felt, holding himself back.

“Yes,” you responded almost immediately, sounding just as desperate as him. Thank God.

Even though he’d done well to get you ready for him, there was still a flicker or discomfort across your face when he began to ease himself into you. But it quickly faded, your jaw going slack, and Logan was finally able to focus on just how good you felt. Warm and tight, he let out a choked noise as he continued to press himself into you, inch by inch, until finally, his hips were flush with yours. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple and down his next at the exertion that came from holding himself back, but all of that nearly went out the window when he felt your tongue lap at his neck before you sank your teeth into the tendon there.

It was reflexive, the way his hips bucked; he was the one being played like an instrument, now. “Fuck… you’re a lil’ tease now, ain’t you?” He tried to sound stern but found it hard to do so, coming out as more of a chuckle than anything.

Your responding smile was anything but innocent, your hips moving in a wordless command. Start moving.

He was more than eager to comply, smashing his lips against yours as he set a moderate pace, prioritizing powerful thrusts over the rapid snapping of his hips. If things worked out the way he liked, he could experiment with that set your body ablaze, to find the perfect way to make your eyes roll back, make you scream his name, make you come undone.

He felt you tear away from the kiss, head rolling back against the pillows as he thrusted into you, exposing your neck, which was just begging to be kissed. He could feel you squirm as his facial hair tickled the sensitive skin, lips and tongue lavishing your neck with attention. “You feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned. “I knew you’d take me so well.”

His name hit his ears, but nothing more, as if it was the only thing you could think to say. Smiling into your skin, he pressed one last kiss to the column of your throat before he lifted his head, wanting to watch you. And what a sight that was, your face twisted in pleasure, something twinkling in your eye before he felt your nails tear down his back.

His hips stuttered, and if he wasn’t partially expecting to feel you dig into his skin, he would’ve finished right then and there, his lips pulling into a semi-snarl. You held too much power over him, but he was far from complaining. “Sweetheart,” he panted, a warning, “this’ll be over far too soon if you keep pulling shit like that.”

“I… I wanna feel you…”

The pure need in your voice made him groan; he could feel the grip he had on his release faltering. But he needed you to fall apart first, to feel you come apart on his cock. Sneaking a hand between your bodies, he felt your legs begin to shake with the added pleasure on your clit, his fingers quick and incessant.

“C’mon, you can give me one more, can’t ya?”

He felt you nod without question, before yanking his lips against yours. He was done talking, anyway, too focused on making you come. With every thrust of his hips, every drag of his cock, every twist of his fingers, he could feel the way you tightened your grip on him, voice rising in octave, until he once again felt your body stiffen, a mix of his name and a whine tearing from you.

It only took a few more moments before he was tumbling over that edge as well, his hips stilling as he came, muffling his noises in the crook of your neck; they were just for you to hear. After being pent up for so fucking long, the relief was indescribable, white-hot pleasure momentarily stunning him.

He was quick to recover, easing from you slowly, apologizing when you winced slightly, trying his damnest to ignore the guilt that he felt at you being in pain. He apparently wasn’t good at covering his worry, because you shot him a look, your eyes hooded with exhaustion, yet your lips still held a smile. “It’s a good pain,” you whispered, physically unable to speak any louder. Logan, once again, was partially convinced you could read his mind.

If you read his mind now, though, it would only be thoughts of you, so he didn’t care that much.

When he began to stand, you furrowed your brow in confusion, a small flicker of worry flashing in your eye. “I’ll be right back,” he reassured, and you visibly relaxed. He shot you a smile before heading into the bathroom.

After discarding the condom and cleaning himself up, he glanced at himself in the mirror. As expected, there wasn’t a single mark on his body, but he was amused to find that his hair was stuck up in various spots, not just the two tufts in the back.

He didn’t bother to get dressed before heading to the kitchen, grabbing you a glass of water before heading back. He saw the light was on in the bathroom, and so he let himself get comfortable on the bed, at least putting on his boxers now, your water now on the nightstand.

He didn’t have to wait long, glancing over and watching a very dishevled looking you sit back down on the bed, flashing his a grateful glance before downing half the water.

“How pissed do you think the neighbors are gonna be?” He heard you ask, making him snort.

“If they’re smart, they’ll mind their own damn business.”

That made you chuckle, taking one last sip before scooting back into the bed, beneath the covers, and into Logan’s open arms. God, he was so fucking happy, so content, everything that just happened finally sinking in. And maybe he was a little terrified, but if this wasn’t worth it, he didn’t know what was.

You pulled him from his thoughts when you began to examine his hands, running your fingers across the digits, just like you’d done in the kitchen. You spoke before he could inquire, your voice teasing. “So you are good with your hands.”

He was laughing when he pulled you into a kiss, and he could feel you smiling in turn. That warm feeling still lingered throughout his body, something he had been so convinced was just lust, just desire. But as you laid your head on his chest, he realized it was that, and so much more.

He wouldn’t put a name on it. Not yet.

But it was no issue.

He had all the time in the world now.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

On the other side of the wall, a very pissed-off Al was sliding Wade a twenty dollar bill, who sat with a shit-eating smirk on his face.

“I told you they’d break tonight!”

Author’s Note: does it surprise anyone that i got carried away with this lmao.

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine

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riririnnnn · 4 months

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It was the end of Ubers match when I first stumbled upon a tweet on Pinterest which sowed the theory of Kaiser destroying Sae's dream in my mind. And honestly, after this seeing panel:

I'm starting to believe more and more in that theory.

It was evident way before Ness's backstory that Kaiser is definitely NOT a newbie in the soccer industry which gives an ample amount of time for Sae to face Kaiser in a match considering Sae didn't return to Japan for straight four years.

And I highly think that Sae faced off Kaiser in the later moment of those four years.

Why?

Because:

He looked miserable when he first returned from Spain in comparison to his later return (almost a year later) from Spain:

And I do think that if you were to lose a long-term dream, then it'll show on your face much more during the earlier days rather than a year later when you get used to the feeling of losing your dream.

Further, Kaiser crushing Sae's dream fits well in two questions that revolves in my mind whenever I think about Sae's backstory:

Why Sae started hating his own country, Japan?

The above question can be modified as:

Why Sae started hating Japanese soccer players?

As I said in one of my previous posts, I do believe that when Sae stepped into Spain, he realised that he was the Frog in the well—he realised how vast the world is and that he wasn't as great of a player as he thought he was. He probably struggled a lot but was somewhat successful in maintaining a balance when Kaiser came in like a wrecking ball to strike the nail in the coffin.

Of course, considering Sae's personality, he would've surely put up a fight against Kaiser just like Isagi did, but unlike that blueberry boy, Sae was already very exhausted and sadly, after some time, he gave up.

Now to address the actual answer to the question: Sae hated how much Japan celebrated him when he was just a child. He was showered with the title of prodigy since he was a kid and he hated that his own country made him feel like he was someone special when in reality, he was just the best among the worst. Further, even if he wanted to be better, there was no one in Japan who could help him do that. He hated how he was made to believe by his country's people that he had what it took to be the world's best striker.

Kind of like a betrayal of some sort.

This gentle soul explained it very well too:

Also, a bit unrelated, but this panel piqued my interest:

German you say, hm?

Moving onto next question:

Why Sae chose to be a Midfielder then?

I have two reasoning for this question:

Firstly, what is the position closest to the striker? Yes, a Midfielder. So, by being a Midfielder, Sae is still trying to be as close to his dream as possible. It is his type of compromise.

Secondly, do you remember what Rin really liked? Yes, Sae's passes. And which position's main role is to pass? Yes, a Midfielder.

You getting me?

It's like Sae is trying to get some kind of closure by reliving those good old times when Rin and Sae played in the Kamakura United (their soccer club). Besides, if Rin were to be the world's best striker, then he would also need the world's best midfielder too, you know.

You getting me?

The only reason I don't want this theory to come true is because it kind of strips us off from an opportunity to get a new badass character.

I also don't want this theory to be true is because I'm solely holding onto this panel:

I'm desperately holding into this panel as a hope that Sae still cares for Rin.

After we got an insight of Kaiser-Ness relation in chapter 261, I can't help but fear that Sae may think of Rin in the same way—someone for his own selfish needs.

And if anything like this happens, I'll transform into the biggest Kaiser's hater alive. Even after chapter 261, I still somewhat defend him for his behaviour, but Itoshi brothers have been the closest to my heart—istg I'll rip Kaiser's hair from his scalp if the brothers' bond gets tarnished because of him.

That's all, I guess.

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock theory #bllk theory #itoshi sae #michael kaiser #雪 ranting

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emilykaldwen · 1 month

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FFWAD 24 - Sins of the Father by @selfproclaimedunicorn

For my first foray into this yearly celebration with @renegadeguild, I picked the brilliant and fantastic story, Sins of the Father by @selfproclaimedunicorn. Misa has taken the fantastic AU premise 'What if Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce had kids?' and has run with it in the most delicious and satisfying way. The story isn't complete, but the first 'arc' has a good stopping point at a whopping 160k words, which made for the chonkiest book you could imagine.

This was the twelth book I've bound (both fic and rebinds of old favorites) and I tried several new techniques for it including rounding and backing the spine. I also stretched my legs in the formatting department and went all in with the interior. That meant ordering some special springhill paper to do these fantastic maps for the endpages. Full details behind the cut!

Typesetting: Normally I've kept my settings pretty minimal as I got used to the ins and outs of InDesign (during this, I did purchase Affinity Publisher and might end up moving to that, but I'm finally getting the hang of ID and you can pry it from my cold hands). I really wanted to mimic some of the interior of Fire & Blood for this, so I hunted down the fonts used and took an image of the decorative banner you see on the sides to use for the chapter openers. I also wanted to include timelines and family trees in true historically inspired fantasy tradition.

The family tree was created based off of the author's spreadsheet in Google Drawing, which I found to be the easiest thing to use when it comes to creating chaotic family trees like this (In the past I'd used lucid chart for a printable version, but google worked better here).

the timeline is honestly my favorite thing and I learned how to use tables in ID for the first time. I'm incredibly pleased with it. The formatting is based upon the line of kings in the source. The timeline covers the events of the first arc as printed in this particular story.

The chapter openers are some of my favorite! As the children are proud to be House Royce, I wanted to reflect that. The runes you see behind the Chapter number and title are the Floki font and name the character whose the POV for each chapter.

Since there's plenty of High Valyrian spoken and the author doesn't include the translations within narrative, it was the perfect moment to set up footnotes. I'll absolutely be doing this for my own story when I bind it!

Rounding and Backing: So this was a total adventure, but I really wanted the old book feel. I made the mistake of pressing the book for too long and lost a lot of the swell in the spine to round but it worked out AND I managed to back it a little bit. Since I wasn't doing cord tapes for the spine (this was a version of the three piece bradel), I had to troubleshoot. I ended up cutting strips of the leather cord I bought from michaels and laminating those pieces together and placing them on the oxford hollow on the spine (given how thick the book is, I wanted to give it as much structural strength as possible). The 'leather' covering you see is actually the craft leather (polyester) from Dollar Tree and it's pretty awesome but definitely has difficulties staying put with glue. I followed the normal procedure and slathered both sides up and used twine to compress the bookcloth along those leather pieces. there's a little gaping in some places which I think would help if I'm able to properly apply backing paper to the polyester.

HTV do's and don'ts: Hi! don't be me and forget to apply your teflon sheets before applying the HTV because then you fuck with the polyester but it's not too bad. The other pro-tip is to gently apply the iron to the cover so it's warm before applying the HTV so it can start to stick. I had to apply the front cover in three pieces and do the title twice. Also, it's really difficult to apply HTV to a rounded spine so I'll have to figure out how to set up the spine and cover before applying (since there's a certain amount of stretching the bookcloth over the spine). The spine might end up having to be regular adhesive vinyl for that. Also, it's stupidly hard to find metallic HTV in bronze.

Front matter and final thoughts: The bronze dragon was a lucky find through an extensive google search, and the runes surrounding it are 'we remember with fire and blood', a combination of House Royce and House Targaryen's words. Seems fitting four Yorick, Ella, and Aemon! The copyright page is mimicked off the source's style, including the AO3 information, the creative commons and fair use information, the guild stamp, a QR code to the AO3 page, and my own press stamp! The summary is pulled from AO3 as well.

All in all, I made this book twice and I loved it and learned so much every time.

I'm so happy with this project and I'm so excited to do the next arc! Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful story, Misa!

#bookbinding #my bookbinding #renegadelovesfic #fanbinding #ffwad #house of the dragon #hotd fic #misa tag

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aineryeo · 1 month

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The Legend of the Blue Sea Episode 3.1: Maybe This Time

Chapter Synopsis: The second time Kenji Sato met you was during his junior year of high school. Newly transferred and still getting started on being varsity for the baseball team, he overhears his high school crush talk trash about him. Determined to get back at them, he convinces you, the girl who managed to smack him mid-run with a whiteboard, to be his fake girlfriend for 7 days.

In present time, Kenji and Mina discover how to wake the sleeping beauty up from the magic needle. But when this finally happens, Kenji now has to deal with the realisation that the princess... was a gremlin.

Themes & Warnings (Chapter):

Author Notes:

I had to cut Episode 3 to two parts because I kept wondering why I'm taking so long to write but then I scanned the chapter and realised I was going 11k and there was still a hefty chunk left from the outline 😭 It took a while to flesh everything out since I spent the past week also adding more details to the other chapters to deepen the flavours 🫴🤌 This is still fluff but the next part is where things start going on the jealous and angst start, the fairytale era bout to transition out!!!

I also found a really cool song that pairs with the theme of the high school memory, it's linked on the title! It's super fitting the vocals are amazing aghhjjr!!

The Legend of the Blue Sea: Masterlist

Episode 3.1: Maybe This Time ⇾ Episode 3.2: Fish on Land

Westwood Academy, otherwise known as Westwood University, situated in Los Angeles, is one of the many renowned schools along the state. It hosts preschool to elementary to high school up ‘til college. It's one of the major league schools but is typically known for its.. extravagant prices. Often, along with a list of other universities, they allow for student exchange programs for exceptional scholars, selected around the world, to tour the litter of schools’ labs, attend special classes, or participate in small collaborative projects. Most of it was to allow these one in a million group of children to choose between potential university options.

Of course, even though this prestigious academy offered a massive field for different types of sports and had a pretty amazing reputation for its academic endeavours, for a guy like Kenji Sato, he knew that in the future, he’ll be transferring to the University of Los Angeles, where most athletes start to get drafted into the Major League Baseball drafts.

But that’s not the reason why he’s bursting his way through the halls right now, no.

Kenji’s running down the hallways because he stayed up too late last night trying to perfect his swing so he can finally get off the bench and play as one of their schools’ main batters. However, it definitely did not help that he spent the days prior studying for his exams too. And now, he slept through majority of his classes, waking up only to find out that in T-minus ten minutes, his Biology class will start, and he’s not too keen on facing the wrath of his teacher chastising him for that Plant Growth Experiment they’ve been rambling on and on about for the past three weeks.

“Out of the way!” Kenji dashes, jumping to avoid the group of students in the hall sitting.

“Sorry, in a rush—”

“Woah, watch those burgers, man.”

So far, he’s been barreling through the hallways great. It’s almost like his athletic instincts are on the high, the adrenaline pumping through his veins being the apt proof needed.

Jump, duck, dash, side, shwuck!

Kenji can see it, the greenhouse! It’s so close— But the sudden options in his head turn from swerving left, or jumping, to… (a) Crash right into this person rolling out a whiteboard all of a sudden in the middle of the hall without even looking at any passersby, or (b) CRASH but in capital.

The next few seconds, safe to say, were unpleasant.

“Shit, shit, shit!!!” Kenji yells, unable to stop his momentum, all but perfectly rams his face on to the rolling whiteboard.

Overcome with blaring pain on his forehead and nose, Kenji laid on the ground, chest uncomfortably resting on the similarly thrown down whiteboard who was unable to withstand his force. A myriad of groans and repeating ow’s overtook the once silent air. The sound of padding footsteps and a bleary voice soon adds on.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Kenji’s vision was blurry, still trying to adjust to his surroundings, eyes squinting and blinking as he realised that even his torso felt sore from the impact.

“Ugh…”

Suddenly, he feels gentle hands turning him over, pulling him away from the fallen board beneath him, albeit with some difficulty.

“God, you’re heavy.” He hears, moments before feeling his head plop down on pillowy skin.

Soon, his vision adjusts itself, enough so he can see the person holding him by the cheeks right now. And boy, when Kenji says he never felt like his anger dissipated so fast like a balloon deflating upon seeing your face, you best believe him.

“I think you'll be forming a bruise right here,” You say, all furrowed brows as you turn his face side to side.

“Oh no, your nose is bleeding now.”

Feeling your soft hold on him disappear, Kenji, all clad in his disarrayed highschool uniform, watches as you try to check your pockets for a handkerchief.

He watches you for a good minute or two trying to figure out where you placed your damned handkerchief, or so you say. Groaning as he picks himself back up, supporting his weight from the back, he distantly hears you say ah! Before he felt you practically shove the thing in his face.

“Here! To wipe your… blood.” You say awkwardly, the bell had rung a minute ago while Kenji thought it was just the ringing in his ears, the more desolate surroundings proved otherwise. He gracefully accepts your offer, lightly tapping the fabric on his nose that gladly did not crook from the impact. Still, it hurt.

You stood up to get the empty whiteboard back on its feet as Kenji stayed seated on the ground in the middle of the hallway that led to the greenhouse. There were no words spoken as both you and him got your bearings.

At least I got a good excuse to miss Biology now. Kenji randomly thinks as he sighs.

But it isn’t until he hears distant footsteps and voices did his instincts rear in. In hindsight, there was probably no reason for him to have felt so nervous to get caught or anything, it’s not like his nose bleed was fake to not garner a visit to the infirmary. Even so, he felt nervous to get caught. Enough to haphazardly drag you inside the room you came in, bringing the whiteboard along before the door slammed closed. Getting into trouble was not in his to-do list today, not after almost getting into a fight with a basketball player last week.

Your handkerchief was lying on the floor, the surprisingly soft hands of the boy you just met were muffling your surprised yelps with his palm, the other hand shushing you, his pointer finger pressing to his own lips. When the voices come closer, Kenji finally realises that it wasn’t a teacher that was walking towards them. It was his first crush ever since he transferred in Los Angeles when he was 8.

“So, are you going to respond to Ken-Ken anytime soon, Ash?” A litter of giggles follow as Kenji felt the heat rising up to his ears from the embarrassing nickname.

“Stoppp, you know I have to be nice because I’m class rep.” Ashley whines, stomping her foot and stopping just in front of the door of the classroom where you and Kenji hid. The action made you and him duck to the floor, nervous to get caught.

“Have you seen his eyebags lately? He looks horrible! I can’t believe he even asked for my help with Chemistry earlier, seriously. Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one?”

"I know, right? And what’s with his accent? It’s like, get over yourself. He tries too hard sometimes. That’s probably why he’s just benched in the baseball team." Her friend snickers.

"And don’t get me started on his lunches. So gross!" Another one pipes in. “He eats raw fish and even eggs sometimes. Eugh…” She lurches.

Kenji hears a sigh, before the familiar voice of Ashley cuts through her friends. “Anyway, let’s go finish fetching the plants,”

“Didn’t Ken-Ken forget his project?”

“Talk about going against his nature, haha.”

The whole conversation made his shoulders and hands drop once their footsteps disappear. His demeanour immediately went from running through the halls to lying on the floor, and this time, it’s not because of a rolling whiteboard. Kenji sighs as he sits back on the floor, hands behind him as he looked up, the classroom was relatively dark, it was one of the extras, after all. His eyes close as he breathes in heavily, contemplating; ignoring the continuous trickle of red down his chin.

You, on the other hand, were perplexed. But seeing the situation, you can guess at least that much. After all, you were entering college at the ripe age of fifteen. In a tongue that Kenji hadn’t heard in a long time aside from phrases from his mom, you spoke. Quietly. Afraid to topple the fragile pieces that was the boy you just met.

“Was that you they were talking about?” You get the forgotten handkerchief on the floor, dried blood on some parts as you try to pat the dust away.

Kenji’s eyes open. And they meet yours. Worried yet curious, shimmering orbs, and gentle delicate hands that dabbed on his nose.

“Yeah.” He replies meekly, forgoing the language his peers spoke in, now matching yours. He didn't miss a beat in his language class, and his mom would definitely chastise him if he didn't know how to speak his mother tongue at all.

You give him a lopsided smile. “It would have been really awkward if you didn’t speak Japanese.”

Kenji chuckles at this. “Had doubts? What, not Japanese enough for you?”

You hum. “Does it matter? Being enough of one or the other.”

“...Well, no..”

Kenji huffs, laying on his back. “But it sure would make my life a hell of a lot easier.”

“Laying down isn’t good if you’re having a nose bleed.” You frown, about to reach down so you can pinch his nose.

As Kenji rummages through his brain, talking about how love, even though it was only a minor crush, absolutely sucks; his mind runs over what you said.

Nose bleed…

Then like a lightbulb; a sudden, stupid idea pierces through his blinded teenage head as he grabs your wrist and sits upright.

“You gave me this nose bleed.” Kenji starts, pointing to said appendage. And you were about to apologise, but he continues far too fast. “So, you have to do something for me.”

“What? Isn’t my handkerchief and recommendation to go to the infirmary not enough?”

“Wasn’t the one hogging the middle of the hallway.”

“Well I wasn’t the one running in the hallway. Section 5.8 of your school’s student handbook said no running in the halls.”

“Your sch—” Kenji’s eyes drift down to see that you aren’t wearing the standard uniform for the academy. Instead, you were in civilians. “Ohhhh,”

“Hah, can’t believe an exchange scholar like me know more than a veteran.”

“Never said I was a veteran.” Kenji shrugs. “And even if I was, what kind of normal person just rolls out a big whiteboard without looking outside?”

And just like that, it felt like there was some sort of.. mischievous jazz in the background, the words kept coming out, and out. Your arms and his start crossing, and you both inch closer and closer, with every retort.

“Have you ever heard of speed limits? You should stop dreaming about getting a driver’s licence at this point, Sir.”

“Getting this show on the road, huh? Well… ever heard of mid-lane hogging, Ma’am?”

“Oh? Did you just use an idiom literally? Cheesy.” You roll your eyes.

“Actually, that was a double entendre. I used it literally, and as intended. Too bad my ingenuity went over your head. Aren’t you supposed to be one of those exchange scholars? Did they get you mixed up with someone else?”

“I wish ingenuity was an antonym for genius right now.” You shake your head with a faux frown.

“Running out of fuel? ‘Cause that was pretty lame.” Kenji harrumphs, not noticing his nose bleed had stopped minutes ago. “Admit it. Your car crashed.”

“Is it my fault if your car crashed into mine?”

“Flat tire.”

Huh?

What was he— your eyes follow his, and it stares from your chest, back to your eyes. Still confused, something Kenji is quickly able to notice, he repeats what he said with a smirk.

“I said… you’re a.. Flat. Tire.”

Realising where he was going, you felt blood boil up to your head as your hand begins to raise. “Ohoh! You monster! I’ll give you more than a nose bleed when I’m done with you—!”

“I’d be… flat-tered.” Kenji pipes up one more time.

You were not flat! You were just… a late bloomer! That’s it!

Unbeknownst to you, Kenji had no qualms with your chest at all, no. And you were definitely not lacking in that department. He just thought that it was a metaphor for someone being so damn… disagreeable. It wasn’t his fault that your shirt was pulling down and he spared but a minute glance.

In all honesty, both of you, stuck in that moment, forgot what you were arguing about in the first place. When your hand was about to land smack on his cheek, he grabs it and pulls you closer to him, a wide grin on his face.

“Come on, help a victim out. We’ll just be giving them… something else to talk about.”

You did not know why you’d agreed to this.

But you did.

“No, no. Absolutely not! Plus, I’m not even popular or something, what statement are you really making there?”

“Well… you’re really pretty.”

He was incredibly insistent, and you felt like you owed him even though you gave him your handkerchief because it had his blood on it. Definitely not because your brain fried when he casually called you pretty with such an earnest face, like arguing would not even make sense to him. You would’ve called him dumb, stupid, or… or something! If he wasn’t speaking so smoothly earlier. Clearly, he does his homework and then some.

At the time, while he decided to skip Biology to head to the clinic with you in tow, you got to know each other just a little bit. Your new.. friend, knew that you’ll be going back to Japan in a few days, so he had to be bold to really make his statement. The stakes were low, and the rewards, at least for Kenji, could be high; enough to save face and show everyone that he does not care about the squeaky class representative.

Kenji preferred to speak to you in Japanese so that only few, if not anyone, could really overhear what you two were talking about.

Eventually, you really had to go and promised to meet in front of the empty classroom where you two hid the morning next day, when your group would have to do some collaborative projects.

And when you separate and return back… Imagine your group, mixed with different ethnicities, academic nukes as you would like to call them, sees you with no whiteboard in hand after being gone for almost an hour or two… embarrassing.

Even more so, when he comes to school the next day, not even waiting to go to your designated meeting location so he can hug you in the middle of their field, catching your group off guard. He’d talk to you and call you a slew of nicknames, most notably…

“Sweetheart! Got you some sandwiches that my mom made. Wanna go eat lunch together at the cafeteria?” Emphasis on the cafeteria, his thick brows wiggling at the word.

He’d hold your hand, and if there was free time for his practices and your little assigned activities, he’d be sitting next to you by the bleachers as you read through the material your temporary mentors recommended. He was sweaty, and he’d be gasping for air, but a wide grin was on his face as he told you he’d stolen so many bases this time. And that he’d hit a few good home runs, how he’ll definitely get a spot on the main team today, all before his coach would call him back with a loud, stern voice.

“Sato!”

He’d leave, yes. But not before he gives you a kiss on the cheek before waving you off as he jogs backwards with a stupid grin.

“What’re you reading?” Kenji would ask.

You’d look up from the cafeteria table, and he’s leaning closer to you to try and get a read in.

“Advanced Robotics: Pioneering Techniques and Applications by Robert Callaghan.” You reply, not missing a beat in your reply.

Kenji would whistle and then proceed to sit beside you as he takes out his lunch. A bento box.

“Want to do a lunch switch? I always wanted to do that.” He asks with puppy eyes matched with a big smile, hands clasped together as he pleaded.

“And I loveee curry!” He adds on.

You notice that he was easy to change demeanours when it came to you. Whether it was because you were from Japan too, or because he knew you'd be leaving, allowing for him to continue acting how he wants to without any true repercussions— you.. would never know.

You smile before sighing out a sure after popping out a deal that he had to buy you ice cream after though, to which he hollers and fist bumps the air as you exchange boxes with an eager face.

You’ll both be in sync when you pick the food with your chopsticks, sighing out a satisfied puff of air while both your cheeks were lathered with the comforting flavour of home.

He never asked for your number. But he’ll wait out of the lecture rooms you’d be in that day, saying he’s just asking the teachers around where the scholars were so he can rush over; offering to carry your bag and walk in step with you.

All in the name of getting back at his ex-crush, of course.

And every time he catches a glimpse of the angered look on his ex-crush, he attunes it to the blooming joy in his chest when he glances back at you, going on a rant about how no, they should have planned the encoding before building the robot. So now, we lost!

You’ll feel a ruffle on your head and a laugh from the taller boy beside you.

Then, you’ll arrive to the front gates. Kenji standing still as you say: “You don’t have to act here anymore, you know? I doubt anyone’s watching anymore.”

Kenji clears his throat, coughing a little, avoiding your gaze. “Well… You might get kidnapped for all I know. I won’t have a sweetheart by then, wouldn’t I?”

“Pfft.” You fail to conceal the bubbling laughter from your throat.

“You’re cheesy as hell,” You tease back, taking your clasped hands away from his so you can lean sideways as you grin. “...sweetheart.”

Kenji could barely get a stuttered reply out before the familiar black car that was from the exchange program drives you to your shared hotel with the other scholars and professors. That day, and the following would go by the same. With him simply giving a lame wave off before the escort drives you away.

All until you finally had to return to Japan; your last day. Like clockwork, however, even on your last day, Kenji would walk with you to the front gates. His steps slow every second, and you would mirror him, you’d go slower, and slower, and even more so; still, you arrive at the front doors.

When Kenji placed a heavy hand to open them, it revealed a slew of raindrops falling from the stormy sky.

“Ah, it wasn’t raining earlier.” Kenji notes. “Got to practise and everything…” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Really? Seems like it’s been going on a while.” You appraise quietly, Kenji only hums in reply.

Like the rain falling in the sky, there was a heavy downpour that neither of you could ever place in the meagre age of highschool, even if you were advancing to college much faster.

“So, you’re going back to Japan today?”

“Yup.” You awkwardly reply as you sway on your feet. Back and forth. “Still have to actually graduate high school before picking my college, you know?”

And it’s quiet again as you both try to think of what to say. It was only a week, and yet… Kenji had never had such a true friend since he moved to Los Angeles when he was a young kid.

“Well, if you wanna see me again, since I know you’ll miss me— oof.” You punch his chest lightly, making him puff out air, as you both eventually chuckle.

“Who says I’ll miss you? You just coerced me into getting chummy with you. Never again.” You huff, crossing your arms and raising your chin indignantly.

“All I’m saying is… if you pick a university close by, I’ll be at ULA soon. I’ll get into the Dodgers for sure.” He’s told you this in one of your many little conversations. The University of Los Angeles, home of the LA Dodgers and the Dodger Stadium.

You look at him and you share a genuine smile as the breeze from the rain sends a peculiar sparking chill down both your spines.

“Sure. I’ll come visit when I’m nearby… hopefully.” You trail off.

Even with the laughter and the once more inevitable silence, there was always something on the tips of yours and Kenji’s tongue. Something to say, some things to ask. And yet, you ball on your feet and he thinks of letting go of your hand that he realises he was clasping too tightly in an embrace with his own fingers.

However, when the recurring black car arrives, you let go before he does, as you dashed through the rain. You turn back, and Kenji’s watching from the safety of the school entrance as you get drenched even though you try to put your bag over your head.

You want to say something, anything. Yet all you could do is give a solemn wave and a smile.

He waves back and you turn away to jog closer to your ride back home, a few steps away from the gate, form stilling as you contemplate getting into the car.

You glance back, and he’s turned away, walking deeper into the school, probably so he won’t get wet. And your mouth opens, but it says nothing; calls out no one.

Your eyes flit to the black car; one last chance.

You can’t help it. You want to tell him more.

You want to tell him how you wish him luck on his career, maybe wish he could find better friends, find a better girl to crush on— and you turn back, one last time, words burning on the tip of your tongue.

But it dies down when your vision meets a familiar uniform.

Kenji’s chest, heaving, as you both get wet in the onslaught of the rain; his hand on your wrist, willing you to stop, as he opens and closes his mouth. The words were on the tip of his tongue; unknowingly mirroring each other in ways you barely had the time to think about after spending only seven days within each other’s presence.

But before you could even squeak out a word, you feel his bigger hands wrap around your now cold cheeks, and in no time…

His warm, soft lips on yours.

Your eyes close, following his tilted head as your hands reach up to hold the hands caressing and holding your face in place. It felt like a sun in the rain, unlike anything you’ve ever felt; and it distantly reminds you of an old childish memory back in the old playground in Odaiba before you and your brothers had to move away to your Aunt’s cafe.

It felt like an eternity of your inexperienced lips melding into each other, and suddenly all too fleeting when you finally pull apart. The honking of the horn from your driver finally takes you both out of your trance. The sudden shattering of the scenario made you glance back to the school entrance, where Kenji’s crush, the reason why you started all of this with him, was standing and watching; and suddenly, you feel your heart pull back the same way that you pulled your body away from him, lightly pushing his chest away.

“I’ll see you.” You whisper, a hint of sadness that Kenji picked up on too late; eyes trained on your similarly drenched figure rushing to the front seat of your escort.

He was too dazed, trying to sculpt the image of his first kiss into his brain. That is, if he forgoes the girl who kissed him when he was seven.

“Good luck, Jiji! I’ll see you.” You wave with a forcibly mischievous tone, as if you didn’t feel anything from that kiss, you close the door to the black car whose engine was finally preparing to take off from the high school.

Kenji stands there, wordless, ears red not just from the kiss, but now from that… cute nickname.

“I’ll… see you.” He replies, raising his hand weakly, not caring if the rain still poured heavily on him.

It took a minute after the car left did he realise.. Wait, what was her name again?

“Wait. She knows my name. She knows my name—?” He must be the stupidest guy alive for not even asking anything about you… your number, or… or, or your damn name.

Kenji grasps his hair, berating himself inside for his stupid decisions. Of course, you know! He never asked yours because he resorted to calling you those cheesy pet names. He didn't think it would matter.

But then he kissed you and now, suddenly, he knows it matters so much.

Fuck.

Fuck!

The car was already driving away, and— and Ashley, who seemingly came out of nowhere for Kenji Sato whose mind was only running with thoughts of you and his stupidity, was talking about something, something getting her jealous and she knows, and—

Kenji doesn’t get to hear the rest of her statement as he begins running into the rain, trying to not lose sight of the car where you sat. Neither you whose face was currently buried in your hands, willing yourself to forget of the meaningless kiss, nor the driver who was focusing on the road ahead, was able to see the boy trying to catch up as the engine simply revs faster along the empty road.

He borrowed a bicycle just laying on the sidewalk, the owner, who looked away for a second, yelling at him.

“I’ll give it back, I promise!” Kenji yells as he tries to pedal through the storm like his life depended on it.

As he rides through the rain, he tries to yell after the car. “Wait, sweetheart, come back!”

“I didn’t do it because of her, I—” He heaves, losing his breath and feeling cold as the car goes faster, the rain falling heavier in turn; rumbles of thunder following suit.

I didn’t kiss you because she was there. Was what he wanted to say.

Could we keep in touch? Was what he wanted to ask.

Please pick a university close by. Was what he wanted. Really, really wanted. From you.

Kenji pedals harder, his muscles burning as he pushes against the heavy downpour. He can see the car’s taillights glowing dimly in the distance. He’s gaining on it. Just a little more…

“Sweetheart!” He yells out, his voice barely audible over the roaring storm. For a moment, he thinks he sees the car slow down, as if you heard him. His heart leaps with hope. He pushes harder, the distance between him and the car shrinking.

But just as he gets within a few yards of the car, it speeds up again, the taillights growing fainter. Kenji’s legs are screaming in protest, his lungs burning from the effort. He’s so close, yet so far.

He reaches out a hand, as if he could touch the car, as if he could make you hear him. But the rain obscures his vision, and the car speeds away, disappearing into the distance.

Kenji finally stops running, the bicycle falling to the ground as he bends over, trying to catch his breath. He’s soaked to the bone, every part of him aching, but the worst pain is in his chest.

In the distance, the car disappeared from view, taking you along with it.

“Sweetheart…” he whispers to himself, feeling the sting of regret seeping into his being.

Even with all his developing athletic might, Kenji Sato, who was still barely entering the cusps of his future stardom, could not catch up to his first crush. Thoughts forever unvoiced to the person that mattered enough for him when he was still a junior in high school.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was hard.

Kenji’s day would start at around 5 AM, and end… its end was dependent, really. He would feed the baby, research more about kaiju, study whatever form or strategy Coach Shimura would give, clean the baby's poop, entertain her, and generally stop her from lashing out. Then train and look stupid in this season's games because he wasn't getting some apt sleep. Sometimes it was paranoia that the baby would cry or need something, most of the time it's because the baby did cry and needed something.

Aside from his baseball, baby, and Ultraman responsibilities, there still was the unknown variable that was… well, you.

The half-kaiju human.

The giant mermaid.

You were silent a lot of the time, and often it would pass in Kenji's mind that you were either a ghost or a living fairytale. Maybe a witch cursed you and took away your voice, or maybe a witch cursed you and forced you to sleep for long periods of time. Because after you.. took that ice bath with him, you laid still in bed for the next two days.

Kenji would thank the damn heavens when you were awake, even for just a day before you slumbered for abnormal periods of time again. Whenever you were awake, the baby would be easier to tend to. Less hungry, more happy; she'll make grabby for you when you go down, and you’ll lay there, your head on the glass container as that familiar tune keeps the baby in a state of calm for the rest of the day. Often, you would forget to go back to the bedroom and Kenji would come home, sweaty from ball practice to see you asleep in the basement, the giant kaiju baby curled up where you were. Those were the days when you’d wake up when he wasn't home.

When you did wake up and he was home? Well, let's just say that Kenji… could never complain. He’ll get shit from his team and his Coach, but then he's home early that day and you just happen to be awake? You're bounding to him like a magnet on a metal pole. A warmth blanketing his chest, enough to let him sigh out his grievances for the day as he opens the front door and sees your happy face.

He may not understand what he's doing to make you feel overjoyed, but he'll take it. He’ll take it, like how he takes your simple pleas for a hug, like how he takes your face burying into his neck. And he’ll take your open arms, willing him to lay down in bed with you when all things are done, your hands combing through his hair as you coo the familiar sounds of the ocean in his ear. Maybe that's the reason why he’d always carry you back to his room when you fell asleep with Baby even though the guest room had been available for a while now.

“I have now gathered 3 weeks worth of data on the woman, Ken. Would you like the analysis?”

Ah.

Kenji grogs his way up from his bed, your arms back to laying limply, sliding down his naked torso; he preferred sleeping with no shirt on, and he would have been more embarrassed sleeping with a girl he didn't know if he wasn't sure that you were just.. an affectionate creature, person— still figuring that part out.

“Sure, go ahead, Mina.” He yawns, rubbing his eyes as he slouches on his mattress.

“Her last steady transformation into her kaiju form was the time when you took an ice bath with her. A significant difference in her injuries were found compared to her injuries the day before. However, it seemed to have slowed majorly since. Her body seems to prioritise external and surface-level injuries, however as is, she is having trouble truly healing her leg fractures in kaiju form. What I have gathered from my scans is that her severe tail fracture presents differently, or rather, not at all when she inevitably transforms back into her half-human self. She has attempted transformation a couple of times when in proximity of the baby, all of which only lasted less than 3 minutes.”

Kenji nods, taking it all in. However, he can't help but snort when the thought pops in his head. “So, what? I should take a bath with her again and see if that makes it better?”

The robot remains silent, and Kenji basks in the awkward bliss of forgetting that Mina is not exactly programmed to be the best buddy in terms of jokes landing.

“If you wish so, Ken.”

Kenji sputters at this, but he realises he might have been too loud as he looks back. Though futile, considering the information he just heard, you would probably be asleep for days even if he screamed all he wanted, considering your everlasting affection for him last night; the pattern was undeniable. The reminder of your comforting caresses sends an involuntary.. pleasurable shiver down his spine.

So Kenji, in turn, whisper-yells to Mina. “It was a joke!”

“Ha-ha.”

“I should tell dad to install a comedian chip in you.” He crosses his arms. “So? What should we do? We can't have her sleep forever. If we can get her up and going, raising the baby would be ten, no, a hundred times easier! Have you seen how much the baby likes her mama?”

“While she is not her biological mother, yes, I have observed the phenomenon. My theory is that she has connections with Gigantron prior.”

This makes Kenji perk up. “Really? How’d you know?”

“She has lingering scales and residue from the passed kaiju.”

“Wait..”

“No,” Mina immediately interjects. “I’ve discretely gotten samples from her tail when she transforms; quite easy to gather due to their wide difference in colour. I believe their relations are similar to the idea of companionship. They must have been friends. Especially considering Gigantron is oviparous and that they are both Female.”

Kenji lets out a sigh of relief that he didn't know he was holding. It was just.. an unpleasant thought. He didn't even see it as possible, considering your kaiju was a mermaid. But what did he know? That's why he was flipping textbook over textbook in hopes of understanding both you and the baby some more.

“On the course of that line of thinking, I am sure she's not taken, Ken. Rest assured. She, like Gigantron, seems to be the sole of her kind. And since she looks to be predominantly human, I doubt animals were attracted to her.”

“Okay, getting a little graphic here. I did not need to know any of that.” He shakes his head, putting his hand up towards the floating ball.

Today was a weekend, he just flunked his game again yesterday, and everything was going awful as it usually did. Until he went home and realised it was one of his lucky days. Slept like a baby last night, and today, he can sleep in because when you tuck the baby in, normal wake up time is moved. Plus, she won't fuss if Mina is to serve the school of fish for breakfast that day.

So now, as Kenji stretched his bare arms back, he looks to you and then back at Mina.

“So, how do we get her better?”

[...]

“I have deduced that water may be the primary factor in her physical healing process. Since she is waterborne, it could only be natural.” Mina explains, floating next to Kenji's shoulder as the man, dressed in only his sweats, carried you in his arms all the way to the tub in the bathroom this time.

“Alright, water makes her better.”

You, right now, kept to your iridescent appearance. However, your litter of scales and the webs between your fingers were disappearing. The only semblance left that Kenji would ever deem inhumane is how silky your skin was, much like your unusual hair, and eyes, if you opened them. His mind briefly flashes to when you got in the ice bath with him, when your features sheened a bit more natural than it usually was. A lot of questions lingered on Kenji's tongue.

“Remember when she healed me that night, Mina?”

The bot whirrs and affirms. “Yes. I remember your recount of it. Since I did not witness the act, I do not have much information. Perhaps her innate regenerative capabilities can be conducted. Did you notice anything strange at the time?”

Kenji thought hard. But who was he kidding? He went stupid the moment you dipped into the bath with him. He could've left but he didn't, not when you had him in this sort of.. chokehold. Finding himself wanting your affection, your acts of spoiling him, while he’ll have this forming desire to please you.

“...No.” He meekly replies, not really wanting to spare Mina any more details of the day; even though Kenji was sure that the AI knew he just melted into you that night the same way he would whenever you waked to coddle him and the baby… It just always seemed to work so well.

Kenji places you into the tub gently.

“Mina, one last thing before you handle the bath. Research more about my symptoms, tell me if you find anything, alright?”

“Yes, Ken.” Mina replies, allowing Kenji to walk out of the large bathroom as Mina undresses you from Kenji’s clothes, changed daily by the bot as well.

[...]

“I believe it is your body's natural response to avoid the physical pain you feel in your kaiju form.” Mina’s voice was slightly muffled by the closed door that led to the bathroom.

Kenji came barreling back in while preparing his special shake when he felt this inexplicable wrapping of panic in his chest. It's familiar, and he knows it's not his.

“Mina? What's going on?” His stern voice cuts through the whimpers and the soft cries in the bathroom.

“Ken.” Mina acknowledges his presence as his eyes dart to the tub.

You were about to transform to your kaiju. Slowly getting bigger. Kenji notices this, taking you away from the tub, as you slowly but surely developed your kaiju features with each whine from your lips.

“We gotta get her to the basement stat.” Kenji almost barks the order out, wide strides as he ran to the elevator.

“And the baby?”

“Baby will have to wait for a bit.” Kenji replies, tapping his foot as the elevator took him and Mina down. The pink kaiju still wrapped in her own self, dozing.

“Uhhh, water, right?” The elevator dings, and by now you were getting a little too big even for Kenji’s better strength. He doesn’t waste time transforming into his counterpart, allowing you to lay on his palms as you grew, and with your size, came your more prominent wounds.

“Open the water gates, Mina. And extend a platform around the window.”

By now, your tail was in full display and you size was enough for him to carry you in his arms while in Ultra. Your eyes still closed in pain as you let out soft, vulnerable cries. It grasps at Kenji’s heartstrings more than you’d ever know. Finally, Ken managed to get settled on the extended platform just on the other side of his wide underwater window, where the baby was slowly but surely rubbing her eyes awake.

“Mina, are you sure she’s okay?”

“She will become better when she is in water. It stimulates her natural DNA, she will heal faster there.” Mina assures.

Kenji nods slowly, eyes never leaving your forcefully closed ones. Your hands were clutching yours and his chest simultaneously. Looking closer across your scale-addled body, conveniently covering the swells of your breasts before lightly avoiding the area of your tummy, only to connect to your magnificent tail— that he notices only now, was bent in a slightly awkward shape. When he reaches out a hand to assess the damage, even the smallest touch made you jolt and open your eyes with downturned brows.

“Hi…” Kenji whispers. “Sorry… Uhm,” He never did call you much of anything, did he? So he blurts out the first thing that came to mind. “— Sweetheart. Did it hurt? Hm? It’s okay, you feel better here, right?”

Surprisingly, you nod, as if you understood him. The whimpers die down as you suck in a breath. Seems like you liked your little nickname.

“Good girl.” Kenji praises, and he feels that familiar blanket around his chest; joy. Oh, you liked that too? Could you actually understand? “Keep taking deep breaths, okay?”

Amidst the seawater where the island rocks and the school of fish would provide the blue atmosphere its renowned ambiance, you did something that actually did blow Kenji and quite possibly Mina’s, minds.

“Thank you.” You’d said.

Kenji would look at you, his Ultra’s glowing eyesight mixing with the bioluminescent glow of the water, aquamarine and sky blue against the monochromatic shades of blue from the once undisturbed waters.

“Kenji.” You’ll add, not breaking eyesight against the Ultra who held you close to his chest.

The man in question was speechless. Your voice catching him off guard, he’d heard it in small hums and coos, and cries— but now, you’ve actually said something. He was still unable to speak, but the yawn of the baby and the familiar shrieks as her tubby hands banged on the glass container to face you and Kenji, begging to be part of the circle.

“It seems the baby has awoken. What would you like to do, Ken?”

You notice this, and peer off his shoulder to look the baby in the eye. She pouts and cries, and your hand moves to beckon her over.

“Baby, come.” You said simply.

“Open the container, Mina, and let her out.” Kenji instructs, finally broken out of his self-induced trance.

When the AI does as it was told, the tiny pink kaiju, tiny in comparison to her step-in parents that is— had begun its steps out into the water, Kenji almost yelps as he forgot that the added extension didn’t reach the gates. Baby who didn’t know how to swim yet, made Kenji inwardly panic when she sank for even a quarter of a second. All before she seemed to be wrapped in a bubble of water that made her float all the way to both you and him, with it popping so she landed in between the closed space of yours and Kenji’s torsos.

She squeaked happily.

It was almost what one could consider a picture-perfect family moment. And Mina was sure to capture the moment in question; if not but to send it to Professor Sato. Taking a vial of a sample from the now luminescent water was also one of Mina’s agendas, which she does discreetly.

“You can talk?” Kenji asks once you three got settled, with papa being the carrier of the brunt. He's deeply fascinated.

“How?”

[...]

Two weeks had passed since Kenji and Mina found out that you were able to understand and communicate because you were listening in to both him and the AI in your sleep or the few times you’ve been awake. Since then, the routine changed up once again, now that you were more frequently awake.

You still couldn’t do complicated schedules, but there were a mix of positive and negative setbacks, as all things are. The most positive side is that you’re there now for the baby, you’re eager to learn from Mina who’d play you educational videos or give you books to read after you relearnt your basic language, of course. And life seems to be doing slightly better for Kenji now that you were truly taking on the mom role.

“Well done, Sato.” His coach grunts, arms crossed. “Your plays suddenly got better this week. Whatever you're doing, don't mess up like last times.”

Now, you might be wondering: Okay, so what's the downside?

Dishes cluttered as sounds of footsteps throttling wake Kenji up in the middle of the night. And if he hones his listening, sounds of a left-open TV show and some uncontrolled laughter was coming from the living room. He’d move his arm to pat the— you guessed it— empty space beside him.

Of course you were still up.

When your hunger bout started the same day that you began taking regular rests in the seawater platform by the basement, Kenji taught you that there was food more delicious than Baby's diet. Which was raw, slimy, uncooked, alive fish.

So, he started you with the next best thing: Sushi.

“See? Better than raw— better than live fish, right? Mmmm~” Kenji watches as you take hold of a roll cautiously, looking at him with an unsure face.

You were so enamoured by the taste. So much so, it was endearing at first. He says at first because he didn't know he just unlocked a major foodie within you. You're morbidly curious, and you have an insane appetite. Mina had to work double-time to answer all your questions once you got started on your Language lessons.

Do these little… creatures—

“Ants.” Kenji inserts for you.

“Do they have feelings? If I take away this grain of sugar, will they get angry? Sad?” Your way of speech was still… developing, clearly. You tended to speak more formally because of the educational material.

He wishes he can read your thoughts to that extent, but he’s stuck with… whatever you did right now.

Sometimes, he’d feel when you were happy, most of the time it would be when he opens the front door; your bare feet pit-a-patting on the solid ground of his private home before you jump in his arms. He’d feel when you’re sad, whenever a favourite character from whatever TV show seems to get sick, or worse, die.

Oh, he’d feel you sad, alright.

He’d have to deal with it in bed when you’re wetting the pillowcases with your tears and small sobs. Rarely does he feel you getting mad. The only other time he can remember is when he brought the baby home with him the first time.

And all those little things. The distance doesn’t seem to matter, he’ll feel a distinct mirror of what you did permeate through his chest. He won’t know from what, but he’d be left to speculate whenever Coach Shimura scolding him, or his teammates were talking behind his back for his recently shitty performance. It was a nice distraction, and since, he notices, that your most common emotion seems to be happy, it lightens him up. Wait, what was he saying again?

Aside from that, scratch a good half of what he said— if you considered your massive amounts of food intake, there was the issue of you actually eating. It was a hefty job teaching you table manners and Kenji was running out of shirts.

“Minaaaa,” Kenji calls out with an exasperated tone, bounding into the living room, hair messy and body heavy with you clinging on to his form like a backpack while giggling.

“I am running out of clothes to wear. We need to get her,” He points to you and bite his finger lightly. “—her own things.”

“Of course, Ken.”

“And you,” He jumps, and your hold around his neck tightens, much like your legs around his torso. “Get off!”

It’s a minute of Kenji trying to get you to let go of him, with you eluding his touches to the side of your stomach that he recently found out you’ve grown ticklish to.

“Ohoh, you want to make this difficult, princess?”

“But I do not want to!!! Stop!! Stop— HAHAH— Noooooo!!!”

He managed to tackle you to the couch as your laughs and heaving wheezes filled the air; not noticing that he started laughing along, hands unyielding from trying to rub over the sides of your sensitive stomach.

“Ken, I apologise for interrupting such a precious moment, but what in particular do you wish for me to order for her?”

Snapping out of his daze, he’s suddenly made aware of how he was leaning down on you; shirtless. You wore one of his dark blue long-sleeved shirts along with his boxers, shirt slightly riding up, the other slowly riding down in contrast. Your legs were loosely resting around his waist with you still looking up the ceiling while you tried to catch your breath. And when your eyes meet his, it feels like his heart jumped to his throat, his nerves getting the best of him made him immediately jump off the couch.

Kenji clears his throat, hand on his hip while turning away from you to respond to Mina who he dearly hopes does not make another comment about—

“Your temperature is rising. Shall we continue this discussion another time? You might develop a fever.”

“Aha, no, Mina.” He saves face. “I’m fine, I’m not sick. It’s just— it’s hot in here, isn’t it?”

“Sick? Fever?” You pipe up as you begin walking slowly towards Kenji who flinches as he senses your oncoming presence. “You are sick, Kenji? I have seen characters become sick on TV. Are you going to die? Kenji!?”

Your hands were gripping his shoulders so tightly with every word, your face scrunched in so much worry as if he had Stage 4 Cancer. You started shaking him haphazardly in your bouts.

“Answer me!”

“You are not allowed to die!”

“Come to the water with me. I must heal you. Immediately.”

Kenji, a little dazed from the back and forth of your earlier shaking, finally finds a reply when you determined that you can most likely heal him, moving to drag him to the bathroom; presumably back in the bath tub.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, sweetheart. Calm down.” Your tight grip on his hand reminds him of another fact that he and Mina has learned.

Somehow, you’re able to retain a semblance of your kaiju strength in half-human form. He finds this out in an instant when he tried to deny you ramyeon once when you were still prone to tantrums. Kenji hisses when you let go of his right wrist, his other quickly rubbing against the area on instinct.

“Oh no, did I… hurt you?” You say, timidly. A wild contrast from your earlier and regular demeanour. Another thing he noticed is that apart from you being extremely clingy with him, you.. oddly care for him; what he thinks, how he’s feeling.

Kenji sighs and pats your head right after. “No, princess, I’m all good. No bruises, see? It’s okay.” He reassures you, remembering that last time when you found out you injured him, you bawled and apologised for the whole night.

“I’m okay.” He pinches your cheek to get you to look at him, knowing that you’re beating yourself up in your head. If your sudden silence wasn’t enough of an indicator, he didn’t know what is.

“Ah, Mina, so about her stuff…” Ken starts, looking back after sensing the presence of the AI bot silently hovering behind him. “Just get her whatever essentials you think she needs and might need.”

“Got it, Ken. As for her clothes, will we have a set budget? Preferred brands?”

“You kidding? Just buy anything. Whatever’s popular these days.” Kenji shrugs as he looks down at you who was trying to dissect their conversation. He’ll look down from his shirt to your bare feet.

“Shoes, sleepwear,” Kenji tries to list.

“How about her underwear, Ken?” Okay, at this point, the robot was probably teasing him.

Kenji sputters, feeling heat crawl up to his face again. Of course, why didn’t he think of that?

“I was just about to say it, Mina.” He sassily remarks.

“Any preferred design?” Okay, at this point, the robot was definitely teasing him.

“Shut up.” He spares you a glance and you simply looked clueless. Thank God.

When screeches started to emanate from the basement, all three of you perked up. But you suddenly cut them off. “Oh! Baby!”

“I will go down.” You offered, not really giving them respite as you cheerfully jogged to the elevator.

This brings up another topic for both Kenji and Mina.

“Soon, we will be able to ask her about Kaiju Island.”

“Uhuh,”

“What are your thoughts about it, Ken?”

“I mean… it would be convenient to know the place. But even if we do, we can’t just leave the baby and her there alone. Without a mom, the baby would die.” And…

“Of course.” The bot responds with a tone that suggests she knew that Kenji wanted to say more.

“And we can’t just leave her in Kaiju Island now. It’s just— we haven’t found a case yet, and I’m still practising for baseball… you know?”

We can deal with it off season, a hidden voice within a deep compartment in his brain says.

“I perfectly understand, Ken.” Still with that cheeky tone. For a robot, Mina can get quite expressive, much to Kenji’s dismay.

Kenji groans, ignoring the bot’s teasing while running a hand through his morning hair.

“Have all her things delivered by tomorrow or as early as possible to the drop-off point so I can pick it up in my car after practice. And help her understand how some things work, I know she’ll be confused with… some stuff.”

The robot hums. “I have a suggestion as well, Ken. I believe if our goal is to help identify her and get her acclimated to human society, it would be best if she knew places outside of the house. And perhaps other people outside of—”

“Outside of me?” Kenji squints, crossing his arms. “What are you suggesting?”

“If you want to expand the possibility of her regaining her old memories by chance, if our theory is correct that she was a past human — based on the articles that dated first sighting of her three years ago— then it would be helpful if she is reminded of the society she grew up in. And she might develop her original traits more if she interacts with other people in a controlled , yet natural environment.”

Kenji remained silent. He knew Mina was right, but… “I don’t know… It’s still a little risky.”

However, it is true that Kenji feels a little bad now that he thinks about it. How you were also feeling indebted enough to take care of a baby that wasn’t your own, while he and Mina occasionally wrote notes and shared minute observations about you like you were a lab rat…

“Okay, fine. I’ll take her to Roppongi once I’m free, she’ll probably love the food there. Lots of people.” He shrugs, walking backwards to his room as he faces the hovering bot.

Taglist: @moonjellyfishie @mochminnie @lovingyeet @vrxouei @secretyna @misdollface @emosakumas @bol0-de-morang0 @n4muqr @blooscool

#ken sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #ultraman #ultraman emi #ultraman ken #ultraman rising

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sy-on-boy · 1 year

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(Potentially) new information from the Spy x Family exhibit book!

Okay, I’ve done some digging around and not gonna lie, some information in there has me excited. I can’t read Japanese so I took photos and put them through translate, so it’s not the most accurate, and please take this post with a grain of salt. Here we go!

Translations are more than welcome! Feel free to use these photos and feel free to DM me for clearer photos. I would also love to know what this all means haha. Japanese “raw” text is taken from Google translate and may be inaccurate to what is actually shown in the photos.

✩ The SxF world apparently has no Christmas!

I’ve heard claims of it, and here’s a picture I took.

“遠藤達哉先生コメント

こちらは冬の休載イラストです。電飾一個一個を北斗神拳ばりに連打して描きました。クリスマスっぽい雰囲気を出していますが、『SPY×FAMILY』の世界にクリスマスはありません。”

Google translate tells me that there’s no Christmas in the SxF world but he tried to create a Christmas-like atmosphere? Not sure but it would align with other people’s claims.

✩ Yuri apparently had a girlfriend in a rough draft!

This is Endo’s handwriting so the machine can’t recognise the words easily, but I think the woman in the bottom of Yuri’s sheet is his “girlfriend”? And Google translate tells me she’s Yuri’s “weakness” and Twilight might use her against Yuri / take advantage of the girlfriend? This is a very interesting idea that didn’t get used in canon (yet?). I think in canon, Yuri is popular but he’s too devoted to his sister. A new significant other of a prominent character would shake things up. Especially when it comes to Yuri, a member of the SSS.

By the way, Yuri’s potential designs are kind of cool. I like the ponytail.

✩ Apparently “Oscar” was one of Twilight’s potential names! + Early Twilight designs

I think we know Yor was originally short for Yorlanda (this is in the upper sheet). There’s a whole list of names beside Twilight and the name Oscar オスカー appeared frequently. There are also more names that I can’t decipher.

✩ Designs of some potential WISE agents! (And early Fiona)

Fiona’s sheet (next to Yuri’s) was titled “WISE spy (female)” and now we have a sheet titled “WISE spy (male)”. Was Fiona a placeholder spy that made it to the main cast? Or will this “male spy” end up having significance too? The two smaller heads at the left are apparently Twilight’s associates. Also, a Melinda sketch. Not gonna lie, the male spy feels kinda cute. Hope he’s not completely scrapped.

✩ Endo’s interview!

I feel like I should put this earlier but I was distracted with the Christmas / Yuri’s potential girlfriend thing. This is at the very end of the book. Apparently Endo was influenced by the invasion of Ukraine in 2022. This interview was apparently taken in March 2023. I think it’s fairly important so I’ll wait for a proper translation before saying anything else.

✩ Comments on Donovan, Melinda, Redacted, and Sylvia!

These two pages are together and I found it significant because Endo discusses the SxF themes. (My notes are not direct translations.) Apparently:

Sylvia’s scene in Mission 20 is Endo’s favourite scene, and he was looking at materials related to war for a long time and wondered if he could make use of it. [JP below]

とてもお気に入りのシーンです。「SPY×FAMILY」の連載とは関係無し昔から戦争に関する資料は色々見ていたので、多少はこの作品にも活かせているのかなーと。

Donovan’s statement of “in the end, people will never understand each other” (rough paraphrase) is the theme of the work. And Endo wanted to create a feeling of Donovan being the final boss. He didn’t plan on arranging it from the beginning, but he thinks the Desmonds are a good contrast to the Forgers. (Does this mean the Forgers think people will understand each other?) [JP below]

作品のテーマでもあるセリフですね。少しでもドノバンのラスボス感を醸し出せればいいなーと思いながら描きました。最初から意図して配置したわけではないですが、デスモンド家はフォージャーと良い対比になっているのかなと思います

The chapters on Twilight’s past coincided with the anime so Endo thought it was a good idea to explore Twilight’s past. [JP below]

アニメが始まるタイミングなのもあって、黄昏〉という人物を掘り下げる良い機会かなと思い過去編を入れました。あまり重たくなりすぎないように、でも伝えたいことは最低限伝えられるように、自分なりにバランスを取って描いたつもりです。

Melinda is described as “friendly” (?) even though she is dignified. A positive description of Melinda… interesting. What’s also interesting is that after she learns that Yor is the mother of the child who got into a fight with Damian, she “shows interest”. Melinda, what do you want with Anya? [JP below]

ダミアンの母で、東国元首相夫人。気品に溢れつつも、気さくな性格。ヨルが息子と喧嘩したアーニャの母親と知り、興味を示している。

I personally think these two pages contain hints about the mystery of the featured characters and would love to know what it means :D

✩ Early Yor and Bond!

There’s a lot more Yor but again the image limit is constricting me. I really like the Bond designs, they’re funny and he’s just a chonky little boi :)

✩ Comments on the panel of Twilight’s head in Yor’s lap!

“珍しいイチャイチャシーンです。ヨルさんは一年中酔っ払ってればいいのに”

Which apparently means: “a rare flirting (?) scene, I wish Yor was drunk all year long”

?!??! Twiyor?!! Hello!! I cannot resist mentioning this one, this is one of my favourite Twiyor / SxF scenes. Are we gonna get more drunk Yor? More Twiyor? More flirting? I’m excited now.

I’ve reached the image limit, so here’s all for this post for now! Translations are totally welcome and again I would love to know what this all means. I’m sorry if I accidentally said misleading information, so please tell me so I can correct it. Once again, don’t take my words as complete fact. The Yuri girlfriend thing is really surprising to me haha.

#spy x family #spy x family exhibition #yor forger #loid forger #yuri briar #fiona frost #bond forger #donovan desmond #sylvia sherwood #melinda desmond #twiyor #i guess. that comment seems shippy to me #long post

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dontmixpaintinyourcoffee · 2 months

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Last ones for now! I'm sure I'm missing someone's blorbo but for now I'm done. Let me know if I missed your blorbo. Also if anyone knows please tell me the names of the last two Lodgers!! The only unaccounted for name I know of is Chestro.

Thoughts under the cut as per usual

VIRGINIA ITO MY BELOVED!!!!!!! I adore her so much. I wanna know what the potions she keeps with her are. My guesses are something like the Flesh Weaver for workplace accidents, some kind of flame extinguishing stuff also for workplace accidents, and Mystery Goop.

Tanis was very fun to draw, though the facial hair took some reworking to get right. I'm also pretty sure the pant length is anachronistic but the pose looks better like this so

The third doctor? Absolutely the most difficult to piece together out of all of them. She almost never has a full-body shot and when she does it's in her Exhibition outfit. So I took the top of the outfit from her feature in a splash page early on and modeled the skirt on her Exhibition dress. Hopefully it works??

Speaking of the third lodger oh my god her hair was a BITCH to figure out! It took me way longer than it should've (and cross-referencing later chapters) to figure out that she had curly hair on the top, and rag curls at the bottom, something I had thought was just part of her Exhibition outfit. Once I realized it I felt like a dingus, cause that was a very common hairstyle for the time. But I figured it out eventually, and I think it looks pretty good! Also I love her big chunky gloves. I accidentally made one too long but it's too late to fix it now so haHA

The goggles and gloves have returned!!! Except for Tanis, which does make me wonder what necromancy looks like in this world and what his pretentious latin title is. Also genuinely love that he looks like the nicest guy you've ever met and when you ask "oh what do you do?" you have to deal with the answer being "raising the dead for science". He and Lavender are Sweet Face/ Sinister Job buddies

#tgs #tgs lodgers #the glass scientists #coffeepaintart

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silasours · 7 months

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% 1 ━ Yours Deerly, A .

#chapters : [ previous | next ] #cw : your unique soul that piqued the great alastor's interest; he decided to write letters just for you until you finally reach hell. alastor x gn reader. may include adult themes and mild swearing. #note : quick thank you to @sea-bunniii for helping me with the fic title :3 this is the series I talked about, lmk if you'd like to be tagged! enjoy.

there is nothing around you but darkness for as long as you can remember now.

you never really understood what was happening; you tried pulling yourself out of this pitch-black surrounding but failed. you tried to speak but can't seem to utter a word from your parted lips. you rely on your hearing to keep track of your surroundings, but there's something in particular to note after quite some time. there were times when a strange, muffled radio static voice rang through your ears, words never clear enough for you to comprehend what it was trying to say. times when you'd see a blurred figure standing before you, but never clear enough for even a rough appearance, let alone a name.

millions of possibilities would run through your mind endlessly about them. is this a message for you, or are you just gradually losing your mind and hallucinating? you often try your best to push those thoughts aside while listening to the people around you who talk about your condition. but that, too, didn't bring you any good news. every day you would hear about how your life is merely hanging by a thin thread, that they might lose you any minute as they speak.

you mentally sigh, hoping that death would just swallow you up whole now instead of taking its sweet time. maybe by then, you'll finally gain your freedom back.

"hm." the radio demon squints his eyes slightly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the thin cane he holds. yet another failed attempt. he lifts a hand from the cane and opens his palm, an eerily green glow appears on top until it forms a certain line of words. "looks like this little soul is back in the human world for the time being."

it has been a month since alastor took notice of your soul. your soul that affected him ever so slightly whenever you traveled from the human world and back; it felt like something was lurking in his surroundings when your soul arrived at hell. he ignored it for a couple days, brushing it off as something uninteresting until it lasted for more than a week. with curiosity, he tries his best to wrap his aura around this thing he has been feeling.

noting that it was your soul he was observing, his curiosity grew. your soul would arrive in hell without being in an actual body and find its way to return to the human world. there was not a single effect cast on it, as if it's just a normal travel through countries and cities. nothing like this has ever happened in the underworld, not to alastor's knowledge at least.

as an overload who claims multiple souls, he naturally tried to claim yours as well after seeing the potential of it benefitting him. he tried to insert his voice and appearance into your soul and communicate with you once it returns to your body in the human world, but he failed every time. no matter how many times he improvised his ways, your soul rejects him without struggle.

annoyance started fueling him, yet it is also the sole reason why he has grown more interested in your unique soul. never has he ever struggled this much to obtain a mere soul; usually it could be done with just a snap of his fingers, yet all he could do to your soul is observe and know the place it's in through the aura that he managed to wrap it in.

keeping his head upright, he opens the door of the room that he claimed as his. closing the door behind him, alastor smoothes out his coat while walking down the dimly lit hallway of the hotel. the heel of his shoes thud against the carpet he walks on, chattering gradually growing louder from afar. the light grew brighter down the hallway he passed by until he reached the staircase, now able to view everyone at the main compartment of the hotel from above.

he takes his time walking down the steps, the sound of his heels catches the attention of the blond woman - charlie. her smile grew at the sight of alastor, hurriedly grabbing a small stack of papers from the long table and jogging toward him. alastor widens his smile, tapping on his cane while standing in place.

"why hello there, my friend! you seem busy, what could you possibly be working on?" he watches as charlie clumsily flips through the papers, a slight frown scrunched on her forehead until she finds the paper she needs. she smoothes the paper, turning it to alastor so he's able to read the contents clearly. she clears her throat before speaking.

"alastor, hi! well, you see, is it alright if i ask you for a small, tiny favor?" she seems hesitant to ask judging from her tone.

"why of course! ask away and i shall consider."

"great!" charlie returns to her usual bubbly self, quickly scanning the paper to look for the specific content she needs to show the radio demon. "here, take a look at this. it says here that it's required to write a letter for the request of a big stock sent to our location. and i'm, well.." her hand stretches to scratch the back of her neck nervously, an awkward smile on her face.

"i'm not so good with letters." she tries to relieve her own awkwardness with a chuckle, but it seems it did nothing but made it worse. "i was wondering if you could.. help out with the letters? just this once! I've heard how good you are with words when it comes to letters. please? i don't really have anyone else to ask." charlie gazes at alastor, her eyes shining with hope as her hands clutch tightly onto the papers.

alastor laughs. "i would love to, my dear! it is but mere letters, nothing i can't handle." he extends an arm towards charlie, his fingers stretched out with his palm facing upwards; a gesture to accept the papers and help. the woman excitedly places the papers onto his hand, his fingers now folded to hold the papers firmly. his eyes briefly look through the documents with a small nod of his head. "consider it done. fear not! I'll be able to finish this by dinner."

"thank you so much, alastor!" charlie flashes him a grateful smile before jogging off, feeling relieved without having to worry about finishing something she's not particularly good at. alastor's gaze fall onto the papers he holds, something molding and forming in his head; an idea. he hums to himself as he dives into deep thought, paying no mind to his surrounding for the time being.

if he, the great alastor isn't able to physically reach out to your little soul, there ought to have nothing else that will be able to achieve that as well. though, leaving messages until you physically arrive in hell may help him accomplish his goal. as one first falls into hell, they often get hit by a strong sense of confusion and even panic. if he takes advantage of the emotion you may hold, luring you in with a false sense of security, things will certainly go smoothly and result in success.

his thoughts abruptly got interrupted by vaggie's voice yelling from the kitchen, demanding for everyone to have lunch now that it's all prepared. instead of walking forward, alastor turns around and starts walking up the very same stairs he just walked down minutes ago. he rarely joins them for any group activity; it's only common to see him joining them if the event will benefit him in any way.

a small tune is audible from him humming as he walks, the papers that were once held by him vanish in a split second, leaving behind small traces of dark green sparkles around the area. the chattering grows soft once again the further he walks from the stairs, now walking down the hallway until the familiar door is in his range of view. using the very same aura to push the door open, he enters his room as the door shuts itself behind him.

walking towards his neat working desk, alastor's heart pounds against his chest from the clear idea he has in his head. he sets his cane aside carefully, allowing it to lean against the desk before pulling the plush chair from the elegantly carved table. he sits on the chair, papers and calligraphy pen appearing with a simple snap of his clawed fingers. paying no mind to the letter he should be working on for charlie, the pen straightens from the table by itself and starts scribbling words onto the blank sheet of paper.

he completely sets his focus on the letter he plans to write for you. it's been a while since he picked up his favorite pen to handwrite a letter for someone, the feeling stirs something in his chest. is it excitement? or is it nervousness? even alastor doesn't understand himself. brushing the thought aside, he lowers the pen until the tip comes in contact with the paper lying flat on the surface of the desk. the paper he chose is a special one; it's vintage, like an old paper that has been left sitting in the drawer for years.

it has a sense of familiarity in it, providing comfort in an odd way to alastor. it almost felt like he was writing love letters for someone he doesn't know at all. ink flows from the pen and onto the paper, the small glob of black ink weakly reflecting light from the desk lamp he has. cautiously, he glides the pen across the paper; every stroke and every curve of the words gradually form a sentence, and then a whole paragraph.

he would pause from time to time, digging for the correct words to write in his brain. it was unexpected to even the demon himself, to think that someone like him would spend this much effort for a mere letter. it took almost half an hour for him to finish his first letter to you, signing his name at the bottom with a content heart.

his eyes scan through every word he wrote, reading everything all over again until he confirms that it has no mistake. his fingers reach out to grab the envelope beside him, sliding the neatly folded paper into it. feeling satisfied with his work, alastor seals the letter with wax that has the shape of a radio pressed onto the top.

he holds the letter; it has a color of deep shade red along with a couple of drawn-on flowers. he pulls the drawer that's seated on the lower left of the desk open, revealing an empty compartment. alastor places the sealed letter in the drawer, pushing it back in until there's a click signaling that the drawer is fully closed. he glances at the letter he promised to finish for charlie, finding it now neatly lying on the desk without a single movement.

alastor exhales lightly from his mouth, allowing his back to lean against the chair with his head tilted back. he feels his muscles relax despite never realizing they were tensed before this, eyelids falling, shutting until he sees nothing but darkness.

"ah.. such troubles i need to go through for this little soul."

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

#﹕a dream to nowhere.#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel alastor #hellaverse

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writersdrug · 11 months

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Ghost x Konig x Reader: I Don't Need You (Ch. 6)

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Summary: You (surprisingly) get more comfortable with Kortac, and slowly let yourself connect with the team. You subconsciously tether yourself to Konig, who is more than willing to help you fit in. The pain of the past begins to fade into the back of your mind like the end of a long chapter of your life.

Additionally, Konig starts asking the hard questions - it unearths a piece of you that you'd hoped would remain buried, but you still share the memories with Konig.

Chapter warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of rape, cursing, google translate German, shirtless Soap, very EXTREMELY watered-down mentions of sexual themes (we ain't there yet, boiis)

Notes: Sorry it took so long, I've got a lot cooking in the kitchen now and I'm hoping to pump out a lot this week!

Additionally, I've had some comments on this work not being an x Reader. First off, I never want to mislead anyone. I label this as an x Reader because Bonnie is not an OC of mine. I've seen other x Reader fics include callsigns that refer to the reader, so I assumed using Bonnie similarly would be alright. I also mentioned a name ONCE in chapter 3, "Jane Morris," which I thought to be a very generic name, and I haven't used it since and don't plan to. I have a personal preference of writing longer, chapter-by-chapter fics in first POV because it feels more natural to me than second POV. The same goes for using y/n - I like to avoid it if I can because it feels unnatural.

Again, those last two thing are a personal preference. I'm not bashing any fics that use these things at all, I enjoy both ones that do and ones that don't, and I don't enjoy one over the other. When I say one feels more natural than the other, I mean it feels more natural to write, not to read. I'm debating changing the name I used in chapter 3 to just y/n l/n to make this a true x Reader. If you still feel like I should change this to an x OC please let me know and I'll be happy to adjust the tags, titles, and descriptions. Again, I never meant to be misleading, and I hope I didn't make anyone angry. If a mistake has been made I am happy to learn from it. Thanks!

Konig had cracked the code on me. He figured out that after a case of American beers and a long drive, away from the crowd of new faces, my outer shell began to soften.

There was still a wall that I was holding up between me and everyone else, even though it was significantly smaller than usual. When Roze and Castillo approached me at breakfast, I didn’t get up and leave. And when Juno used the empty spot in the gym room right next to me, dropping his bag on the floor and giving me a cautious glance as he set up for his routine - I didn’t grab my things and move to the other end of the room. That was my first instinct, but I fought it. Instead I huffed, facing the mirror in front of me and focusing on my sets.

I’d started going to the common area more often – maybe not every night, but often enough. We’d make it a habit to play poker on the nights I did show up. I was better than most of the group, since none of them were quite used to my mannerisms yet. However, Konig and Horangi still took the lead as the winners, despite most of us arguing that they shouldn’t be allowed to play if they were going to wear their masks. The argument would eventually turn into a casual conversation – I didn’t engage in it too often. I preferred to sit and listen, using the time to slowly learn more about the team. I typically planted myself between Roze and Konig, keeping my legs crossed on the seat and nervously fiddling with my Yuengling bottle.

Although I was ashamed to admit it, Konig had become a conduit for my interactions with the rest of the team. The way he engaged with their activities, yet still managed to stay reserved, struck a chord with me. I respected the fact that it could sometimes be difficult to find him on base, and that at the same time, he was always there when I started to feel overwhelmed. I didn’t need him, no… that was a stretch. But sometimes I felt grateful that he was so eager to accompany me places – especially when he invited me to go on “perimeter checks” with him, which mostly consisted of long drives off base.

I don’t know how I had grown to appreciate him so much – maybe it was because he felt similar to me, in the way that we both needed our alone time, and with how we often found ourselves slipping out of the common area around the same time, with the original excuse being that we were tired. Half of the time, we would sit in the mess hall and talk until the early hours of the morning.

“A sniper?” I asked on one particular night, fiddling with the mouth of my beer bottle. “You’re way to big for that – no offense.”

Konig chuckled. “And that’s what they initially told me.” He took a swig of his (nasty) German beer. “But, despite being handed other opportunities, I proved them wrong. I’m sill a damn good sniper.”

I huffed. “Nah, you should be happy you got promoted to Colonel; you’re lucky, you get to avoid being in the trenches – at least, as much as the rest of us.”

“Lucky? No…” Konig said, shaking his head. “I do not like being a Colonel. I’d much rather be doing the dirty work of soldiers than writing these stupid reports.” He slapped a large hand over the manilla folder that sat on the table next to his beer. “It keeps my head busy, and I don’t have to listen to myself think.”

I nodded while sipping my beer. “I completely get that – If I’m not actively doing something with my hands, my brain gets too loud. Like – like there’s a mini me in my head, and the only way to drown her out is by physically doing something. Anything, really.”

Konig laughed – almost a snort – “‘A mini you’. I like that, that’s good.”

I huffed a laugh through my nose, turning my head to hide the smirk on my face. Despite being a large, brutish man, he had a youthful essence about him. It was hidden deep beneath the thick exterior of a war-hardened soldier. But, every now and again, it rose to the surface, touching a part of my soul I hadn’t allowed to be seen in a long time.

I pushed my stack of bills into the middle of the table. “All in.” I said nonchalantly.

Gaz narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair and looking down his nose at me. “You’re bloody stupid…”

“Or really smart.” I retorted. I folded my arms over my chest, not wavering under his intimidating gaze.

It was unbearably hot in the room – whether that was from the tension of the game or the broken air conditioner (Price eternally insisted it would be fixed, “… by next week…”), I didn’t know. I was donned in my sweatpants and sports bra, Gaz was in a wife beater and sweats, Ghost was covered head to toe in a sweatshirt and jeans (one could ever rarely catch him wearing anything less), and Soap… well, Soap was Soap. Completely shirtless, with only a pair of gym shorts on. Typical for him to be so shameless.

Ghost looked at his cards, his jaw clearly tense underneath his mask. He wasn’t very good at hiding his unlucky hand – it was almost like he wasn’t even trying. Which was a possibility.

“Fucking hell… I fold.” He tossed his hand onto the table, revealing his sour bunch of cards. He walked to the fridge and cursed under his breath, rummaging through the contents.

“Jesus, you’re a load of dry shite.” Soap commented, leaning against the wall adjacent to Ghost. “You could’ve at least tried to intimidate ‘em.”

“You could try shutting your fucking mouth, alright?” Ghost snapped back. Soap raised his hands defensively, leaving Ghost by the fridge.

He flopped onto the couch near me and Gaz. “Miserable sap…”

I did my best to tune out their bickering. I stared down Gaz, tapping my fingers on the edges of my cards. I was relying on the river card – I had a chance at a four-of-a-kind, praying the last card on the table would be another seven.. It was risky, and Gaz was probably right in calling me stupid. But I was never one to back down from a challenge. I craved the thrill of it. Most of the time, I ended up getting lucky.

Gaz chewed his lip. He cocked an eyebrow, slowly pushing all of his cash to the middle of the table. “Call.” He said.

And I heard it – the telltale sign of his bluff. A fraction of a second where his voice had waivered, followed by him grinding his jaw. I knew I had it in the bag.

I was savoring the moment of triumph, watching Gaz stare at his cards, when I felt a hand on my back. I nearly spun around and yelled at whoever touched me, until I saw a gloved hand place a Yuengling bottle to my right, the lid already popped off. I faltered, staring at the bottle, feeling the hand on my back rubbing a thumb back and forth over my spine.

I glanced behind me, looking up to meet Ghost’s eyes. He was looking down at me with an empty gaze. His eyebrows twitched for a brief moment as he continued rubbing his thumb over the skin of my back.

I knew what he was suggesting. What he was asking. Put a woman on a compound with broken, touch-starved men, and eventually one of them will succumb to the temptation. Even so, I was shocked that it was Ghost. I would say he was showing a weakness here, no matter what he decided to call this – it was an admission that he needed something – something from me, specifically – which I never thought would happen.

He continued staring at me for another few moments, waiting for an answer. Keeping my eyes locked on him, I took the bottle and drank; my reply. He gave the tiniest nod, walking away and sitting down next to Soap – who was shuffling the remaining deck of cards, eyes narrowed at Gaz. He knew he was bluffing too.

I turned back to Gaz, smirking as he revealed the river card.

“You ever think about what you would say to those kids now?” I asked, tapping my beer bottle. “The ones who bullied you.”

Konig hummed. “Mm… not really. I don’t hold too much resentment.”

I chuckled. “If only we could all be a saint.”

“Well, it all happened so long ago.” Konig tried to justify himself. “We were only kids, bored and trying to stay on the surface. They just wanted to look tough so that no one would pick on them. Of course, I wouldn’t understand that as a kid. Maybe then, I would have admired what I’ve become, and I would have wanted to boast about it. But now that I am a Colonel – Ich habe besseres zu tun.”

I sarcastically rolled my eyes. “And that means?”

“Ehh…” he groaned, squinting his eyes. “How is it said… ‘I have bigger fishes to cook.’”

I sputtered, turning my head and laughing. Konig glared at me. “Gibt es ein Problem?” he asked, which I sort of understood. He sounded irritated, that much I could tell.

“No, Konig…” I said, standing up and giving him a pat on the shoulder as I walked by. “Just keep up the English lessons, ok?”

He scowled. “Verpiss dich… Start learning German and maybe I will.” He retorted, and I waved at him dismissively from behind my back.

I stuck my head into the fridge, grabbing a Yuengling and one of Konig’s beers. I walked back and placed them both next to him. Like instinct, he took each one and hooked their lid onto the edge of the table, then smacked the side of his hand down on the tops, sending the lid clattering to the ground. He opened my beer and handed it to me, then repeated the process with his, before reaching down and collecting the lids. He added them to the pile, totaling six beer lids so far.

If someone had shown me this image a year ago – Konig and I, sitting up late into the night, chatting like we’d known each other for decades… not to mention the fact that I was so unusually open with him… I would have been insulted. I would have laughed. No one would have been able to convince me that I would become so attached to anyone else after what had happened with the 141. Yet, all of this felt so natural. It was beyond how I felt that Konig and I were kindred spirits… it really did feel like I’d known him before. Maybe, he reminded me of a part of myself that I tried to bury away.

Or, maybe, I was just submitting to loneliness and trying to justify how quickly I clung to the first available soul. That was also an embarrassing possibility, one that I would rather not admit to.

“I have a question for you.” Konig’s voice and the clink of his beer bottle on the table brought me back to reality.

“I might have an answer.” I replied.

He looked off to the side, perhaps wondering whether or not he really wanted to ask the question. “Who did you kill? And why?”

Just like that, I felt the walls being built right back to where I had them. Bonding time’s over. Back to square one.

His inquiry caught me off guard. I froze, my bottle hovering in the air before I could take a sip, my eyes glued to the table. Just the mention of the incident brought the painful memories up to the surface, like claws scraping at the dirt, digging up the deepest roots.

“Lots of people.” I said, deflecting. I took a swig of my beer.

“You know what I mean.” He scoffed. “Why did you end up in military prison?” He leaned over the table – clearly not planning on letting the topic go.

I sucked my teeth, staring at him defiantly – moments ago, it was pleasant talking to him. Now, I was fighting back the urge to leave him at the table and go to my dorm. I felt ambushed at how he had changed the subject so abruptly. Like he had been waiting for me to carelessly stumble into the trap, and now he was watching me snarl from within it.

He leaned back with a sigh. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I just thought we were getting somewhere here.”

“Oh?” I said dryly, cocking an eyebrow. “’Getting somewhere?’ What’s that sup-“

“Hey, it’s ok.” He raised his hands defensively. “I get it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” His words were forgiving, but his eyes said something else – I knew what he was thinking.

Weak.

I gave him a hateful stare. Fucker know how to play his cards.

“I killed a sergeant.” I admitted. “My lieutenant’s right-hand man.”

That got Konig’s attention. He leaned forward again, putting his bottle off to the side. “Why?” he asked again.

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled, as I leaned back in my chair. My eyes fell to the floor as I forced myself to recall the memories. “In Egypt, a while back. Don’t ask when because I won’t tell you.” I warned Konig, and he huffed – but obliged.

I continued. “We were going in to retrieve a hostile target. Everyone was jumpy – me included. It was dark, and we didn’t know what to expect. After the hostiles started to engage, we were scattered. I got stuck in one tower, so I went upstairs to try and make a foxhole.”

I paused. It was now my own hands, covered in dirt, clawing at the roots of the memory. Each word I said was painful, yet somehow felt overshared. Like I was trying to get Konig to pity me. Except I wasn’t – I just wanted him to listen.

And that’s exactly what he did. No comforting shoulder pat, no soothing words… he just listened. He knew that if he stepped on the wrong spot, it would break my openness, like a branch breaking under his foot would disturb the silence of the woods.

“The sergeant – ‘Flare’ – he was up there, too. I thought we’d had the same idea, but… holy fuck…” I ran a hand down my face, feeling my heartbeat grow faster. “At first, I didn’t know what he was doing, I just heard him making those sounds and I thought he’d been hit, but… he was taking advantage of this – this woman – and with her kids right fucking there… she was probably just trying to hide, to hide them, she had to be so fucking scared… he didn’t even stop when I found him, I don’t know if he even heard me screaming at him.”

I paused, almost waiting for Konig to say or do something, but he remained silent. Despite my eyes never leaving the floor, I could see his blue ones watching me carefully. Concerned, patient, and calm.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” I said, my voice faltering the slightest bit. “So I shot him. In the head.” I unintentionally shivered. “Probably traumatized that poor woman and her kids, but… quick decisions aren’t the best ones.”

I ended my rant with a heavy sip of my beer. Konig continued watching me with wary eyes, which I ignored. I didn’t need consolation, or sympathy, or whatever he might try to offer. Somehow, he seemed to understand that.

“I would have done the same thing.” He commented.

Would you?

After a moment, he exhaled. “I don’t understand… I’d say you were in the right. Why did they put you in prison for that?”

I chewed my lip. “There was… some speculation, that I was jealous of his position. We’d been close throughout my time with the team, and when he got the promotion to second-in-command, I was a bit envious at first. People thought I was taking my anger out on him in what seemed like the perfect opportunity to lie.” I took another sip. “But I was happy for him. He worked hard, and he deserved it. But then the pressure got to him – Lieutenant was always depending on him for too much, and Flare couldn’t handle the responsibility. If he slipped up, it was a lot worse than if one of the rest of us did. I guess… the pressure is what got him in the end. Made him crazy in the end. He didn’t have any morals anymore.”

More silence. It felt uncomfortably loud – Konig’s stare seemed to make my head ring, making me fidget and bounce my knee. I wanted to snap at him. What are you looking at? Why are you asking so many fucking questions? But I was able to keep my anger at bay, justifying the situation by assuming his questions were fueled by nothing more than curiosity.

I figured I had said enough for the night, and finished off the rest of my beer. I slapped my leg, the telltale sign that I was getting ready to turn in.

Konig ignored it, or seemed to not notice. “Why did you kill him?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “Why did I? What do you mean?”

“Why kill him? Why not just… disable him for the moment, and let your commander deal with him later?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice was a second too late. “Again… in the heat of the moment, you don’t make distinctions like that. You think: ‘shoot,’ or ‘don’t shoot.’ And shooting him was the choice I made.”

Konig’s gaze became scrutinous. He knew I was lying about something… he was hellbent on figuring out what.

He’s going to have to wait a long damn time.

“Goodnight, Konig.” I said flatly. I collected my bottles, getting up from the table. With a clang, I tossed them into the bin by the exit, walking down the hall and leaving Konig sitting alone in the mess hall. I feel tears stinging my eyes, but that’s all they did. It’s all just water under the bridge, y/n. Get it together. You’re alright.

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Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues @princekonig @vixionix

#konig x reader #konig x reader smut #konig cod #konig smut #call of duty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #ghost cod #cod #konig #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader

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tacharie · 2 months

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Thoughts for The Montkraken Episode

so, I just finished the chapter and… wow I have a lot to say. I took screen shots for every part I wanted to talk about and I think this rant will be SUPERRRR long so bear with me. Tumblr won’t let me add screenshots so when I have better service I’ll edit the post to add them. These paragraphs are theories and side notes that I wrote after reading a certain section so you’re gonna see my thought process throughout the story. As always, spoilers ahead so I recommend skipping this if you haven’t read it already.

Alright so I was once a hater of this ship BUT… the Shobaru shippers may have a point in this guys 😭. LIKE.. I HAVE THE SCREENSHOT OF SUBARU BLUSHING UHHH. That is not a heterosexual stare feller 🤨…

AHHHHHHH THE FROSTHEIM DUO ARE BACKKKKK!!! I missed them so so much they’re so silly and deserve the best. Honestly the only two I trust in this school cause I CANT. I literally suspect anyone but them, but Imma be so disappointed if either of them are hiding something. I’ll be sad, but like I’ll help 🙄. I was actually so sad when the MC mentioned being the reason they could be in danger like GIRLLLLL DONT SAY THAT PLEASEEEEE. ITS LIKE THE ANGST WITH ADEUCE AND YUU LIKE STAWPOPP. Also when the Vagastorm kids were like “aw yeah Mido wouldn’t lie like that” it makes me happy that people can at least trust him enough to be honest and idk I found that kinda sweet :3. We’re also getting a bit of a timeline, like the One-Eyed Sleeping Beauty Murder being BEFORE the clash (sorry if this was already mentioned I don’t really remember stuff from the past chapters) which could’ve been a trigger.

Also, I feel like they’re trying to tell us that Jiro is Zenji’s brother because when he had that little laugh about the MC being scared of bodies, he said too. When you click the “too?” option, he just says that he isn’t the one afraid. It’s not Yuri as well cause he’s literally a doctor that is in the same room when autopsies are in session. Whatever the case, I assume he was referencing to Zenji, though it being a blurry memory. Little theory tho.

OK SO THIS IS JUST SO FUNNY TO ME. In Chapter 9’s title it says, “Girl Learns Shocking Truth About Monster”. I like to think the shocking truth was the fact he didn’t shower for 3 days 😭. CAUSE THATS THE PART SHE SOUNDS MOST SHOCKED. Idk that part was silly to me. THEY’RE OUTFITS FOR THEIR DORM IS SOOOOOO PRETTY. They ate I fear, a bit more than the other dorms. Also side note, they dropped A LOT of info with just how they word things. For example, Yuri saying “Jiro, you are well aware that I will not be associated with those germs AGAIN.” Soooo Yuri was in Frostheim? I don’t doubt it bc there’s another line that says “I’d rather not recall how bitterly cold that place is” which can MEAN TWO THINGS. I’m super sure that they’re implying that yeah, he was, but then something happened blah blah blah.

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH HYDE AND DANTE??? Like ok bitches, spill your shot to us too don’t be shy. So, confirmed by them, Dante and Hyde used to go to school in Darkwick (which I assume the rest of the teachers are too). That explains their back and forth. WHAT REALLY CAUGHT MY EYE WERE THESE LINES.

Hyde: “…You really are a softie, Dan-Dan.” (Haha Dan- Dan)

Dante: “It would seem that way to someone as cold as you.” (???) “…There are lines that shouldn’t be crossed, Hyde.”

Hyde: “…I’ll keep that in mind.”

WHATTTTT. WHAT ARE THE LINES. GO IN DETAIL ARGHHHHH. This gives us more info on the character individually too. Dante describes Hyde as cold… DANTE. So, it was obvious that this whole happy go lucky attitude was fake, but I expected to be more like Haru’s kind of attitude not like that yk?? now I know how much of a cash grab this game is, but I really hope they aren’t going to stretch the story out too long to the point where you have to P2W cause I haven’t paid a cent and I don’t plan to. I still want to learn more about them and stuff so :(. On the topic of Dante, there was a small flashback where I missed a word in the sentence that Dante said while talking with Alan. “I’m the man you supposedly killed.” Supposedly?? Now, I didn’t my catch this in my first run, but now it’s like wdym supposedly?? Shouldn’t you know? This is giving hella Jiro vibes and honestly, I’m getting sick and tired of these characters having a bad memory.

SPEAKING OF JIRO- he seems to have problems remembering things and they come back to him in the very weird moments (honestly a kin moment). I would like the think that he’s just suffering from the damages he had to go through from the clash. His relationship with Yuri is so… sad to me. Yuri seems to doubt him a little bit and I feel like he sees him as just a specimen, not much of a friend. Meanwhile, Jiro smiles a lot to Yuri and listens to him like a master, like that’s what he’s supposed to do. NOT AGAINST HIS OWN WILL DONT GET ME WRONG. He’s just so neutral about it it makes me a bit like awwww :(. They’re cute tho idrc.

Ok moving on to Haku and Tohma. (Ok at this point I’m getting nervous cause why are we seeing so many characters now. That’s probably just a coincidence). OK THESE TWO HAVE GOT IT GOING. Like there’s tension when you get their chat in the campus but this is like woahhhh… Also I don’t like how Tohma says “our wheelhouse? I see..” it makes me think he’s like implying “so you think you’re a part of them now?” IDK THATS JUST MY LITTLE STRETCH. Also poor Zenji, he’s like “aw yeah I died in vain lol” LIKE OUCH.

Nicholas. I DO NOT LIKE HIM. I REPEAT. I DO NOT LIKE HIM FOR A MINUTE OF A SECOND. The only staff I like are the cats, the grocer guy, and MAYBE Dante. LIKE HES SO… NORMAL?? LIKE THERE’S SOMETHING WEIRD GOING ON IK THERE IS. When MC says “I can’t believe Professor Nicolas would do something like that” I DO 😡🙋‍♀️. I am in full support of Yuri finding crimes against this guy.

Also, little other side note, I just realized that Yuri and Jiro have matching earring in opposite ears. It’s so cute.

Ok I might have to go back to the beginning and see what the “goat like anomaly” Jiro is talking about when he mentions the prophecy, cause I said “… the chancellor is a goat??” BUT ANYWAYS. Speaking of the prophecy, I’ll jot it down.

“The whisper of the new moon shall lead the champion to the academy on the solitary island. So long as the champion resides there, the world shall be sheltered from profound tragedy.”

Stating the obvious here, but this is most likely referencing to the last cutscenes we get when we choose our characters. I’ve checked the cutscenes again and there’s no visible moon, meaning it could correlate to the “new moon” portion. (Search up new moon to see what I mean). Assuming Solitary island means death, that would also help with the theory. So, whoever we chose in the beginning might just be the person who won the Laurel Crown.Honestly, this is just a silly little Drabble for a theory and VERY vague. Maybe the champion resides in the events of the past that we still don’t know about but this kinda helps?? Idk I’m just putting what I think at the moment. I’ll probably reread the game so I can get a better timeline. Also, Yuri’s rant about demon particles… doesn’t exactly sit right with me. Were they chosen to be resilient or was it just a birth thing?? Idk but I feel like a lot is missing from his theory. I mean, we’re using human logic to a supernatural cause so I don’t think pacts acting as allergies would work. If they’re not chosen, could it be that the ghouls can make pacts with more than one demon? I wanna see what happens if that was the case. Please comment if I missed something 😭.

Ok Towa appeared. (Why are we seeing so many characters I don’t like this) and we went back to that tree… WHAT IS THAT TREE?? And what the hell do you mean the fruit grew? What is that fruit supposed to be? An anomaly going to birth?? Is it supposed to represent the houses?? Motivation?? It seems so weird to me cause we just got introduced to that tree last episode. Sighs.

OK REN AND RITSU. WHAT IS GOING ON. I GUESS SINCE THIS IS THE LADT CHAPTER FOR INTRODUCING CHARACTERS BUT LIKE … STOP. I feel like something is going to happen with the MC pls 😭. Anyway, those two talking about ramen is so cute please don’t ever change you virgin and lizard looking freak 🫶( with love of course). GROCER GUYYYYYYY. YIPPEE :3!! I love that the cat is the owner and not the human lmao.

Also I will always be a MC defender cause she is so relatable. “Why are hospitals so creepy at night?” GIRL IKKKKKK. Idc what y’all say, the fact that she’s normal is keeping me sane from these freaky deaky events. ILOVE NORMAL CHARACTERS! LIKE MATSUDA FROM DEATH NOTE OR THAT ONE GUY FROM MASHELE. Anyways, I love her little comments and everything she’s so silly. Idrc if she doesn’t have much of a backbone cause honestly, she’s surrounded by danger so the best she should do is listen to the people that are constantly surrounded by it.

ALSO NEW THING. (Well idk if it’s new but yeah).

mention of a Dionysia Breakout. <—— Idk what that is, but it sounds like a little more. I love little details and slip ups thanks characters <3!!

HA! HAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA! I WIN NICOLAS 😈!!! YOU DO HAVE SOMETHING TO HIDE. AND I WILL FIND IT TRUST YOU WILL BE DELT WITH. I WILL KNOW THE PRIOR PAST >:(!! Also, Moby is being soooo annoying tbh. More character descriptions to add: competitive as a teacher. NO ONE WILL MAKE YOU HATE YOU JIRO ‼️‼️‼️ HES SO SWEET He literally asks if we’re scared and says we can hang back awwww. Though he doesn’t understand much, he can use logic and he can at least understand how we feel. It’s a nice sentiment :)!

I can’t take the transformation seriously I’m sorry. I’m still impressed by Yuri’s deductive skills and the transformation just sounded like he was constipated.

THE WHOLE BATTLE SCENE WAS EPIC!! MC HESITATING BECAUSE OF LEOS WORDS BUT STILL PUSHING FORWARD. YURI GETTING FLUSTERED. JIRO SMILING AND TRUSTING YURI’S ORDERS. THE FUNNY EXCHANGE ABOUT MUSCLE WHEN THEY WERE CARRYING THE POD. Those annoying ass pussy sticks we call Darkwick students 😡. JIRO LOOKING BADASS AFTER THE SHOT. URGHHHH I LOVE THIS CHAPTER.

HARU AND PEEKABOOOOO!! AHHHHH IM SO HAPPY I SEE THEM AGAIN!! I’m so glad he’s going to Hyde too cause I’m not ready. Also… the mermaid thing is so weird. For the Montkraken Mermaid, they seem to refer to it as “it” or “that mermaid”, but when they speak of the second mermaid, they use personal pronouns like “he /him”. Haru’s expression as well when he heard someone was abusing mermaid flesh… it’s a new one with a little crease under his eye. It’s such a sad face like, did he know this mermaid personally or was this fear?? Either way, I wanna meet him cause the other one was so pretty.

…You guys know the “I see who you are… you are my enemy” sound that’s on TikTok or reels or wtv? YEAH THATS SONG WAS PLAYING IN MY HEAD WHEN HYDE SAID WE HAD TO DO A SPEECH. HYDE IM IN YOUR WALLS. URGHHHH I HATE HIMMMMM. Call to action my ass IK either Taiga or Leo are gonna get their asses out of the door after the speech. OR BOTH. I’m starting to tweak.

NOOOOO THE SPEECH IS THE NEXT CHAPTER?? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

I feel so bad for Zenji… like I’m so deadass. Dude he sounds so sad about how he’s dead it’s so.. URGHHHH. ALSO I CALLED IT. THEY ARE BROTHERS. AHAHHAHA!! Well it was kinda obvious cause everyone thought it too but WOMP WOMP. Also I love his real name, Taro Kirisaki. It’s pretty :)!! But these lines killed me

“and though I have taken my final blow, my brotherly heart can’t help but worry for my kin. … Not that he has any idea I’m still around.” YEOUCH?? I DIDNT COME TO CRY BRO…

I’m tweaking out because of this speech bro. I’m gonna choose the corniest stuff and hope for the best. “I feel bad please stop for me 🥺” headass.

Taiga is officially my enemy as well. I called that shit about him leaving URGH. WHAT A FLIBBERTYJIBBET!! His outfit eats tho so it balances out. LIKE DAMNNNN. HE LOOKS SO GOOD.

DOUBLE?? TRIPLE??? QUINTUPLE???? HELL I MIGHT BECOME A GHOUL TO GET THAT MONEY GOLLY 😍😍😍!! CAUSE IN THIS ECONOMY??Also thanks Jin you a real one twin. Bouta split this cash with my wife and I’ll send you a wedding invite.

EDWARD. ED PLEASE. STOP PUTTING ME IN THE SPOTLIGHT… well it’s out now so woopy!! I really wonder what the others have to say about that cause they just gave really vague surprised reactions. Well, Ritsu documented it. I love that little guy please don’t ever change you silly.

NUMBER ONE CORNELIUS HATER IDC. Unless I know your intentions I DONT CAREEEEE. YOU ARE AN OPP IT IS ON SIGHT WITH YOU. SAME WITH YOU NICOLAS!! “I didn’t know whether to tell you or not I’m sowwy 🥺” CHUPA MI PITO HOE 😡.

… you’re telling me I didn’t have to do that awful speech because DANTE AGREED?? IM DONE. IM WHOOPING EVERYONE IN THE ROOM AND AURING THE PLACE OUT. FIRST ONES OUT ARE HYDE FOR NOT TELLING ME, NICOLAS, AND CORNELIUS. ARGHHHHHHH. Also, dude, who is that Janitor guy like seriously.

ROMEO??? AND HYDE???? WHAT IS THIS ABOUT BUTTERCUP?? Wdym worked for him?? What is going on… SPECIAL MISSION??? SHO??? OH NAW. I CANT TRUST NOBODY ANYMORE 😭

Towa crying :(. What does the fruit shrinking have to do with it now?? I’m so confused.

ALRIGHT IF YOU MADE IT TO THE END WOW YOU HAVE DEDICATION. Yeah this is my personal yap session to this chapter and it’s so URGH. I’m so excited to see the next chapter and I hope we get to see more and more. Now with the Gala in place, we can finally start WORKING. Based on the timeline, we have about … 8 months left?? So hopefully, for MC’s sake, she gets cured. BYE BYE UNTIL NEXT EPISODE!!

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