#also that chapter title took way too long

[mishy-mashy]

With—

some comments/thoughts that I'll try to keep big-spoiler-free,

the status of completion with the # of chapters at the time of writing this,

and a snippet of each's writing (my standard for rezero insert fics is set low so you can get a preview and judge for yourself);

List of RZ fics that've been recommended, in order of chronological rec

===============

- Re:Reader by Kaip0 on fanfiction.net (Rem X Male! Reader that Returns by Death with Subaru)

Comments:

I'm thinking it was written to go against "I love Emilia"

Reader can speak about Return By Death

Ends at the end of arc 3. Author has no more stories, nor anything that continues it

STATUS: Completed (109/109)

- A Matter of the Heart by Shimosu on AO3 (Julius X magician OC that's forced into knighthood)

Comments:

Includes, and starts with, original events and EX Novel 4

OC is OP but also... not. I guess it's more of her potential that makes her OP?

Probably written with Gluttony in mind (losing existence, what's left of the victims, JULIUS, etc.)

STATUS: Ongoing (13/?)

- Glass of Appa Juice, Sir? by RadiantVoid on Fanfiction.net and AO3, under the same handle (OC with a Divine Protection can see death counts)

Comments:

Sentences following dialogue get confusing because it's not always the actual speaker, but someone else. It's hard to explain, so as an example;

"I hope you trip on your way in." Otto winced.

"Please don't say such things!" Ram snorted.

OC is similar to Otto, in that he's just some guy trying to survive the shenanigans that come with the Emilia Camp's mere existence

Ends between arc 4 and 5. It's recent, which is nice (published in May 2023, finished September 20 2023 [writing this as of Sept. 28, 2023])

STATUS: Completed (17/17)

Made this a long time ago and I forgot to post it

Does anyone have Re:Zero fic recs? Not the ones with rewriting Subaru or exploring an AU but like- one with a reader or an OC or even a good crossover?

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Final Girl.

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Word Count: 1.4k.

TW: 'Girl' Is In The Title But Reader Is Gender Neutral, Death and Blood, Mentions of Guns, Manipulation, Implied Kidnapping, and Spoilers for the Ninteenth-Century Novel Dracula.

The night you met him was, by no coincidence, also the night you learned what it meant to feel your blood run cold.

‘Met’ might’ve been an exaggeration. You didn’t meet him so much as you stood still and stared at him – lumbering down the hallway, clutching a gore-splattered butcher's knife, his suit disheveled and stained with a dark, blotting substance you couldn’t bring yourself to put a name to, in your fear-induced paralysis. With the manor's high ceilings and dim lighting, he seemed impossibly tall, his black eyes blank and terrible, his smile manic in a way that sent a chill up your spine, that left you frozen where you stood and unable to run as he came to stand in front of you, as he raised a hand and—

And pointed to the book tucked under your arm, a yellowed paperback beaten to hell and back from weeks of loving abuse. You’d spent hours wondering if you should bring it with you, if there was anyone else on the face of the planet who’d be stupid enough to bring a book to a mascarade ball, but you figured you’d have to step out for a breath of fresh air at some point, tonight, and phones weren’t really an option at this kind of thing. Looking back on it, you struggled to remember why you’d spent so much time agonizing over something so inconsequential, especially when whoever found your body likely wouldn’t pay it a second glance. “Is that—” He started, pausing to wet his lips before correcting himself. “Is that Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”

You blinked several times, shifting your weight. “It is,” you managed, eventually, just before the point of no return. “I… I’m only a few chapters in, though. They’re only on the second blood transfusion.”

His smile widened. “I’m reading it for the second time, now. That’s one of the best passages - you can practically feel the dread mounting in the prose.” While he spoke, you stole another glance at his attire. With your shock beginning to fade and your nerves given a few seconds to cool, you could see that he clearly hadn’t just walked out of a crime scene. His clothes were wrinkled, but not torn, not displaced the way they would’ve been if he’d been in a real fight, and he was covered in a cartoonish amount of (presumably fake) blood. He couldn’t have meant for it to be realistic, not unless you were supposed to believe he’d bled twenty people dry on his own.

He must’ve noticed you staring. His rambling trailed off into an airy chuckle, his free hand drifting to his blood-soaked shirt. “I’m afraid I might’ve misread my invitation,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. You were almost in awe of his nonchalance. Showing up to a masquerade ball in a costume fit for a b-rated haunted house would’ve left you catatonic for… god, the rest of the year, at least. “That’s how I found my way back here, actually. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to stay in the ballroom for very long, considering I’m dressed for a very different party.”

“No, no, that makes a lot of sense! I mean, a costume party would be more in-season.” You felt like an idiot. You could only hope you hadn’t looked as scared as you felt. “Honestly, I’m just surprised they let you in with a prop.”

He glanced to his ‘knife’, too, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, this little thing?” He took the blade in his free hand, bending it downward. Unceremoniously, it snapped into two pieces as easily as if it’d been made of little more than tin foil and plastic - which, to be fair, it probably was. “Most people struggle to see me as a threat, for whatever reason.”

“The doormen probably just felt bad for the strange man who showed up to a charity gala covered in blood.” You spared a small smile, then genuinely brightened, taking up your novel and fishing out the spare mask you’d shoved between the pages while you were getting ready. He should’ve counted himself lucky that you could never be bothered to find a real bookmark. “Mine came in a set of two,” you explained, signaling for him to bend down. A little too easily, he obeyed, stooping just low enough for you to work your spare mask over his head. It was cheaper than anything you would usually like to show off – the base simple black cloth, the embroidery meaninglessly gaudy, the main body kept in place by little more than a simple white ribbon that never seemed to sit just right, but he accepted your offering with a grateful hum. “It’s not much, but—” You paused, buttoning his suit jacket, doing your best to make it look a little less like he’d just walked out of a bad slasher movie and a little more like a tragically color-blind, but ultimately well-dressed party-goer. “It should get you through the door.”

He straightened his back, and you thought you might’ve seen something spark in his dark eyes. Then again, it could’ve just been the moonlight. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

Oh, right – that was something most people did before offering to fix a stranger’s clothes, wasn’t it? You rushed to introduce yourself, and he did the same. “Chrollo Lucilfer.” And then, offering you his hand, “Perhaps I’d be more warmly received with a plus one?”

As hesitant as you were to slip back into the ballroom on the arm of a disheveled stranger who’d already made an impression of his own, it would’ve broken your heart to turn him down. That, and you might’ve had a weakness for disheveled strangers who fell on the more handsome side of the spectrum.

You laughed as you threaded your arm through his, letting Chrollo guide you back to the main event. A second passed with only the sound of your footsteps and distance music to fill the quiet, then another. Eventually, you broke the silence. “It’s very well-written,” you started, trying to fight the urge to fidget. “But… I don’t think I’m the right audience. I care too much about Lucy. Seeing her go through so much and knowing she’s not going to make it is just—” You sighed, shook your head. “It’s agony. Especially when the villain is literally in the title. I mean, I know the characters don’t know that, but still.”

“The benefit of a voyeur's perspective.” For all his glowing praise, he didn’t seem very offended. “I think the dramatic irony is part of the appeal. By the time the tension breaks, it’s nearly too painful to keep going.”

“Which is exactly why it hurts to read,” you groaned, slumping into his side. “I get why it’s happening, but I just can’t stand spending so long on the build-up knowing how it’s going to end. It probably doesn’t help that Lucy’s one of my favorites, either. Well, aside from Mina, but it wouldn’t be fair to compare her to the author’s self-insert.”

The two of you came to a pair of rounded oak doors. There’d been a pair of attendants stationed outside when you left, but Chrollo didn’t seem to mind shouldering it open himself, ushering you inside with a smile and an idle gesture. You took a second to steel your nerves, still not entirely prepared to throw yourself into a very crowded room filled with very loud music and very eager socialites, then crossed the threshold, coming face to face with—

Carnage. Pure, unadulterated carnage.

There were bodies everywhere, each corpse mangled and bruised and broken in every possible way. Dark blood and broken glass covered the formerly pristine ivory floor, and the walls were painted with the remnants of gunfire. A few people were still standing – the murderers, you figured, judging by the blood on their outlandish clothes, the weapons in their hands, the indifferent agitation written across their expressions as you stared at them in horror, as your heart threatened to give out for the second time that night. The tallest man you’d ever seen pointed a hand-held machine gun in your direction, but Chrollo found his way back to your side, resting a hand on your shoulder as he spoke. “Hold your fire,” he said, casually, as if you weren’t standing at the edge of a bloodbath. As if he’d known what he was leading you into. “I think I’m going to keep this one.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. The air hitched in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back and forcing you to meet his unblinking stare. You’d been right the first time. There was never anything his eyes could’ve been but terrible. “I always did like Mina.”

There was never anything he could’ve been but a monster, prowling for his next kill.

“I guess I just have a soft spot for survivors.”

[starlitiris]

“Imperfect Hatred” ~ (Sebastian x Reader)

Summary: A little while after you pass Sebastian’s shop, you mysteriously run into him again. And just in time, by the looks of it.

Notes: The prompt for this chapter was suggested by LukeySkywookie in the comments on the last chapter on ao3!

If it ends up being a terrible then I blame the fact that I worked a 9 1/2 hour shift yesterday. Yippee!!!! A little heads up, you might be out of character if you hate squiddles and not-so-imaginary friend

Also the title was inspired by Ultrakill i LOVE REFERENCING THINGS WITH CHAPTER TITLES please enjoy my goofy ass writing <3

ALSO NOT TO MAKE THE NOTES TOO LONG BUT I PROMISE I’M WORKING ON MORE PAINTER x Y/N JUST HANG IN THERE COMPUTER KISSERS I GOT U

~ 🦈 ~

Sebastian was just out scavenging for data and supplies when he stumbled upon you by pure, unfortunate coincidence. He didn’t think the navi-path would lead you in this direction, but alas, here you are. Lovely. Just when he was finally enjoying some alone time.

He watches you search through all the drawers and shelves in the room. You shove whatever you can find into the bag given to you by Urbanshade with the intention of collecting assets. A smile paints your face when you find an orange vile alongside a stack of files and USBs.

How pointless. You’re just going to die soon, anyway. Don’t you get that by now? Any kroner you’ll get from having that crap on you is completely useless. It does nothing for you. You can buy all the supplies and ferry coins you want with that stuff, but you’re still going to die. You always do. Why bother picking things up after you pass his shop? Are you really that stupid? He’ll never understand you.

As much as you frustrate him, he finds your ignorance and determination… amusing. If he were in your position, he would’ve given up a long time ago. But here you are. Nearing your 50th death, and still aiming for that crystal with a stronger will than what you started with. He cannot fathom why.

You had no idea he was watching you. The only way you would know he was there is if he wanted you to know. Large as he may be, he’s gotten very good at sneaking around undetected since the lockdown started. He’s a lot more quiet than you would think.

Whilst pondering your infuriating inability to simply give up, he decides it wouldn’t hurt to stick around for a bit. Just to see how you get on. And to collect anything you might have missed while making your way through the blacksite.

When you enter the next room, he follows not too far behind. He watches you check for dangers, collect assets, and move on to the next room. He keeps stalking you, watching you repeat this process every time you open a new door. This was all routine for you – something you were now able to do without giving it much thought. Aren’t you miserable, doing this day in and day out? You really are a pain in the ass.

You could feel his eyes on you. An uneasy feeling of being watched that you couldn’t shake crept up your spine.

This experience wasn’t new to you by any means. Something was almost always watching you, if Urbanshade wasn’t. Cameras were littered all over this wretched place. But this time, something just felt… different. And you couldn’t for the life of you explain why.

You had gotten used to the feeling of being watched by now, but the unfamiliarity that you couldn’t quite place your finger on unsettled you. It had you looking over your shoulder more frequently than you usually would.

Sebastian took notice of this. Not that it bothered him, though. You wouldn’t be able to find him. He knew that. It did mean he would have to be more careful to stay hidden, however. He didn’t want you to know who your new stalker was.

You kept trying to ignore the feeling, forcing yourself to stop looking over your shoulder after some time. It was just making you feel more paranoid. Whatever was watching you, if anything, definitely wasn’t going to show itself if it hadn’t by now. You just hoped it wouldn’t be what ended your run.

Soon enough, you found a temporary distraction from that paranoid feeling. A little red remote, hidden away in a small locker. A soft gasp leaves you, and you pick it up.

“Imaginary Friend!” You smile, handling the little toy with care. You’re about to press the button on it, but you stop before you can push down on the soft silicone. You frown. “Aww… I probably shouldn’t. I’m sorry my beautiful angel princess, but I don’t want you whispering about things crawling in my skin while I’m already feeling really paranoid. Sorry…” You gently place the remote back where you found it.

Wait.

Pause.

You actually like that thing?? What the hell is wrong with you?

Sebastian grimaces as you walk away from the locker, genuinely looking sad and guilty- what the hell is wrong with you??? That thing is FREAKY and WEIRD, and you’re apologizing to it when it probably can’t even hear you?? What on earth do you have to be sad about?? It probably doesn’t care, and likely doesn’t even know you found the remote!

You sigh a big, sad sigh and look for the next door to open. You are fucking strange. Sebastian shakes his head at you. What a moron.

A few rooms later, you find yourself in a large area with all the lights out.

“Great,” you mutter bitterly and pull out your flashlight. You traverse carefully through the open area, making sure you don’t trip or bump into anything. You groan, loud and annoyed when you reach the door to the next room and find that it needs a keycard. Wonderful. Splendid. Time to backtrack.

Sebastian stifles a chuckle. Your poor idiot.

After searching around for almost 5 minutes and wasting nearly all of what remaining battery power you had in your flashlight, you finally hear that satisfying buzzing sound that emits from the keycards for some reason. You sigh in relief and turn off your light, hoping you can find it on sound alone.

You follow the buzz, inching closer and closer until you reach a wide cabinet with a single thin drawer right beneath the top of the furniture. You eagerly open the drawer and scan the interior for that stupid piece of plastic. You’re barely able to spot it in the darkness, but you see it on the far right end of the drawer. You move in to grab it, but stop when a loud hissing starts right in your ear. You look up and are met with one of many familiar glowing white faces, inches away from yours. You jolt and stumble away from it as soon as you process that you were toe-to-toe with a squiddle.

“Dammit!” You look at the keycard after the squiddle calms down, then look back to where you saw its face. It is standing directly in front of the keycard. “Why can’t you just move??”

Sebastian had to cover his mouth so he didn’t snort out loud at your persisting misfortune. He’d like to see you get out of this unharmed.

This has happened to you once before. You know if you're quick, you can just grab it and go. You can do this. It won’t be fun, but you can do it.

You take a deep breath to brace yourself, then quickly move forward and slap around the inside of the drawer to find the keycard again.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” You repeat as the hissing starts up again, getting louder with each passing second. After desperately failing to pick up the piece of plastic way too many times, you’re able to pick it up and throw yourself back just in time before the squiddle attacks you. You let out a big, exasperated breath.

“Fuck!” You look at the squiddle again once you’ve recollected yourself. “Sorry, buddy… didn't mean to invade your personal space like that.”

… What.

Did you…

Did you just apologize? To the squiddle?

The Not-So-Imaginary Friend is one thing, but the squiddles? Those are actual threats. They can, and have, killed you. More than once. You have their full document to attest to that. Hell, it could’ve been this specific squiddle that caused one of your past deaths. But you are honestly, sincerely apologizing to it for ‘invading it’s personal space’? You have GOT to be braindead or something.

You unlock the next door.

Sebastian is baffled. Baffled, and quite frankly, very angry with you. There is no room for kindness down here. Nobody wants to be your friend, nobody wants to see you succeed, and nobody wants your goddamn apology. All this place has ever known is misery and hostility. Everything is out to get you. You have over 40 deaths at this point to prove that you aren’t naive to that.

This place has tortured you. Not once has it ever shown you a fraction of the kindness he’s just witnessed you showing it. Since the first time you arrived on that submarine, you have been burned, drowned, electrocuted, beaten, consumed, crushed, mutilated, drained of life, and shot dead more times than you could count.

Even Sebastian himself has killed you once before. Given you might have deserved it – even though he was egging you on as well that day – but even after that, you still try to be nice to him when you have it in you to be. You’re polite to him. You never try to touch or climb him like he’s some animal at a petting zoo. The run he killed you on was the only time you ever flashed him with the flash beacon. On most of your runs, you buy shit you don’t even need if you have the data for it. He knows you only do this to give him more research. He doesn’t understand why, but he knows you do it. Nobody needs a lantern and a normal flashlight when they already have a hand crank one.

You are kind. You’re kind, determined, gentle, considerate, funny… a breath of fresh air. He desperately wants to understand how somebody like you can exist in a world so cruel and unforgiving.

He can almost admit that he’s fond of you. Almost. Maybe he would be able to if you didn’t make him so angry.

It’s every man for himself down here. Why don’t you get that?

Why waste your time caring about anybody but yourself?

You won’t survive like this.

You haven't been surviving.

If there’s any chance at all that you could get that crystal and leave with it, he’s certain you won’t be able to do it if you keep going on the way you have been.

It doesn’t do you any good. He would know better than anyone.

Nobody is on your side.

The next couple of rooms are uneventful. The lights were all out, so you didn’t have to worry about anglers or Pandemonium. You had put a new battery in your flashlight at this point so you could see where the hell you were going. You were back into your rhythm. Look for dangers, check drawers, find the next door, repeat. Like it’s second nature to you.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you enter a room with the lights on. You turn off your flashlight, and proceed with your routine.

A gross, wet sound assaults Sebastian’s ears – or lack thereof. Looking in the direction of the sound, he spots exactly what he expected to see.

A wall dweller. Gross.

He looks back toward you to see if you heard it as well, only to find you still opening drawers for loose assets. Apparently you hadn’t, then.

Sebastian watches the wall dweller slowly creep up behind you while you’re none the wiser.

He stares. Intently.

You’ll hear its footsteps any second now, surely.

Surely.

… Why are you still checking drawers.

Sebastian squints. The wall dweller is nearly on your heels- are you not paying attention?? Where is your head?!

A wave of panic washes over Sebastian as the wall dweller is right on your tail, reeling back with an open mouth to kick you down and take a good chunk out of your neck.

You’re looking through yet another drawer.

The wall dweller lifts its leg.

It braces itself to kick the back of your knee, and-

KRRKNCH!

The loud sound startles you, and you whip around immediately to see what it was.

Sebastian was behind you, snarling over… what you think used to be a wall dweller. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.

You stare, shocked.

He makes eye contact with you.

He looks panicked for a brief, fleeting, almost unnoticeable moment before he stands up straight to recollect himself. He wipes the wall dweller remains on his hands off on his jacket, cringing in disgust at the carnage he caused.

“Why don’t you pay attention next time? Considering what I almost just had to witness, I’m shocked you even made it this far,” he snaps, ignoring how befuddled you are to be seeing him outside of his shop.

“You.. when the hell did you get here?!” You question, rightfully confused.

“I was just passing through. And by the looks of it, you’re lucky I was,” he mockingly grins.

“Really? Just passing through?” Something in you doesn’t want to believe him.

“Yyyup.”

“I’ve never seen you outside of your shop before,” you state, your tone indicating disbelief.

“I have a life outside of my shops, you know. How do you think I stock up after you expendables leave me empty handed?”

“Well… okay, I guess that’s fair. I know you scavenge around for things, I just never expected to run into you while you were doing it.”

“Yet here we are.”

“Right…” your gaze drifts back down to the, uh… splattered wall dweller remains on the ground. “Ew… uh, thanks for that by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies bluntly.

You step to the side to make some distance between you and the carnage- and then a realization strikes you.

“Wait, why didn’t you just let it kill me? If you did, you could’ve just looted my corpse again. It’s not like you haven’t done that plenty of times before. Don’t you want me to fail?”

He stares at you. Usually he’s quick to respond to anything you have to say to him, but it seems you might have actually stumped him for once. You weren’t exactly sure why, though.

You stare at each other in silence for a little too long before Sebastian finally speaks up.

“... Well. Some of you expendables like to eat this disgusting shit, don’t you?” He picks up a dweller chunk off the ground. “I just figured since I’ve seen you freaks eat them often enough, and they’re usually so hard to come by, I could start hunting them down once in a while and sell chunks of them for a good price! Smart business move, no?” He grins again, seemingly back in character.

You blink. “... Okay, yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“See? I’m just scavenging. Nothing more to it. This is purely for my benefit, not for yours.”

You frown, annoyed and unamused. “Right. Got it. Thanks.”

He hums with a cheeky smile before turning around to leave. “Well, I best be going. See you real soon, Expendable.”

“Wait!”

He halts, glancing over his shoulder to find you removing your bag from your person.

“While you’re here…” you hand Sebastian your bag. “Want this?”

He’s staring again. At you, then at the bag. Then back up to you.

“… What do you want?” He asks, turning to face you once more.

“Nothing. I have everything I need, really, and I don’t want you to have to re-scavenge for whatever I would buy off of you here. So… take it.”

You’ve stunned him again. This time you figure it’s because you’re basically offering him free money.

Once again, he is trying desperately to understand you. But he can’t. He never does, and he doesn’t think he ever will.

Seriously, what is wrong with you? Why are you like this? Why are you so kind to him, even in moments like this? And why does it make him feel so…

“Sebastian?”

Your voice interrupts his train of thought.

He rudely snatches the bag out of your hand. “Don’t expect me to give you anything for this later,” he warns.

“I won’t. Consider it a thanks for saving me,” you smile.

“I wasn’t trying to save you.”

“I know,” you assure him and make your way to the next room the navi-path is leading you to.

He watches you.

You wave to him as you walk off, facing away from him as you do. “See you soon, fish sticks!”

He watches until you’re out of sight.

A strange, fluttery feeling occupies his stomach. You did this to him. He hates it.

He hates your stupid nicknames for him. He hates your stupid face, and that stupid smile you give him almost every time he sees you. He hates your teasing, and your little playful remarks that you send his way when he’s being an asshole. He hates your stupid laugh. He hates that he’s memorized the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you do. He hates all the little things you do to show that you care and don’t want to upset him. He hates that you express that same kindness to other occupants of this hellscape that deserve it more than he does. He hates that you’re an unstoppable force that won’t quit no matter how often he discourages you.

He hates you. More than anything.

And yet…

For some reason…

A part of him still can’t wait to see you again on your next run.

[j-k-writes]

The Bronze Targaryen - 5

Summary - Two and a half moons after (Y/N)'s arrival in Kingslanding he must grapple with his new title as a dragonlord, wedding festivites, his grandsire's sudden illness, and his relationship with his father. The prince tries to balance all of this as the royal wedding looms over him.

Warnings - minor injuries, general HOTD warnings, drinking, canon character death, consummation scene (its minor and a fade to black)

I have decided to mold the lore to my own desires because there is almost next to nothing on House Royce during this time period. Also was going to break this into two parts because its so long but wanted all the wedding festvites to take place during one chapter.

(Y/N) winced as the maester prodded at his nose, the maester made humming noises as he examined the prince’s injuries. He applied a few plaster’s to (Y/N)’s nose, before wrapping it in soaked wool. 

“His nose shall heal fine, my prince.” 

Daemon nodded, “Thank you, you may go.” 

The maester bowed to the two princes, gathering his supplies and leaving (Y/N) alone with his father. Daemon watched as the man left the room, and waited until the doors were shut before turning on his son. He crossed his arms leaning back against a chair, and (Y/N) braced himself for a lecture. 

“How are you feeling?” 

(Y/N) blinked, “What?” 

Daemon pushed himself off the chair, making his way over toward (Y/N). He slowly reache

d his hand out, gently tracing the scratches and bruises on (Y/N)’s face, and (Y/N) was too shocked at his father’s actions to react. “Are you in pain?” 

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, looking up at his father. “I’ve had worse.” 

Daemon frowned, and (Y/N) wondered how much his mother had told him of his childhood mishaps. “What were you doing so far off Rosby Road?” 

(Y/N) flushed, “I- uh, snuck out.” 

“You snuck out?” His father’s face lit up, and he took a step back laughing and shaking his head. “How did your uncle react?” 

“Well he doubled my guard for one.” (Y/N) said, remembering his Uncle’s fury when (Y/N) showed up the next morning, face covered in blood and dirt. He had some choice words for the young heir, and (Y/N) was confident Daemon had heard his brother’s opinion on the matter as soon as he stepped foot into the keep. “But he was more interested in the dragon than my misbehavior.” 

“Ah,” Daemon smirked. “Yes, it must have been quite a shock.” 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes at his father, “I know you did something.” 

“What did I do, (Y/N)?” Daemon asked, raising an eyebrow at his son. “I did not drag Vermithor to you, or you to him for that matter. Vermithor made his choice.” 

“And it’s just a coincidence that as soon as you leave for Dragonstone, Vermithor leaves and seeks me out randomly.” 

“Perhaps it was fate.” Daemon shrugged. 

“You don’t expect me to believe that.” 

Daemon approached (Y/N), placed his hands on his shoulders. “It does not matter what you believe, all that matters are the facts. And the facts are that you have claimed Vermithor, you should be proud.” 

“I did not wish to claim a dragon, I never have.” (Y/N) said, and his father’s face hardened. 

“You are my son.” Daemon said, and (Y/N) hissed as his grip on his shoulder tightened. “You are a dragon, you cannot escape that.” 

His father’s face softened at (Y/N)’s expression. He released the boy, and seemed to hesitate before smoothing his hair back out of his face, “You should rest, you have had quite the number of shocks these past few days.” 

(Y/N) watched as father turned on his heel, and exited the chambers gently shutting the doors behind him.

“Lykirī.” (Y/N) smiled, as Vermithor pushed his snout into his chest. He pet the dragon with a gloved hand, laughing as the dragon continued to push him. “You must relax if you wish to fly.” 

(Y/N) had spent almost a week avoiding Vermithor after the dragon chased him down in the woods. Hoping that if he ignored him long enough the dragon would take the hint and leave, but eventually the Dragonkeepers sought him out, telling him that Vermithor had been untamable since he’d arrived in the Dragonpit. So (Y/N) resigned himself to the life of a dragonrider. He’d spent every day since then with the dragon, slowly but surely adjusting to his presence, and Vermithor had calmed drastically with (Y/N)’s visits. 

(Y/N) had taken to flying easily, much to his father’s delight and, as much as he hid it, his own. Although he had felt sick at the idea of claiming a dragon at first, he had come to find pride in the quick developments in his relationship with Vermithor. 

Rhaenyra too found delight in her betrothed’s new life. 

Anytime (Y/N) was free Rhaenyra was dragging him to the dragonpit, insisting Vermithor and Syrax go flying together. Viserys, at first happy to have another dragon in the family, soon grew inpatient with the two teens. Irritated at their constant absence from court, but (Y/N) paid him little mind. (Y/N) had no real place in his court, and he had not yet raised Rhaenyra, his heir, from the role of cupbearer. 

(Y/N) saddled Vermithor, leaning down to whisper to the dragon, “Sōvēs” 

The wind was cool against his face, blowing the strands of hair that had escaped his bun around in his face. (Y/N) had been wishing for clean and open air since he’d arrived in Kingslanding, this just isn’t how he expected to find it. Vermithor rumbled under him, and he laughed, leaning down so that he could rub the dragon’s neck. 

“I know,” (Y/N) spoke, almost shouting to be heard against the wind. “I am sorry I was late.” 

He’d been stuck in court all day, listening to his father and uncle bicker over details of the upcoming royal wedding. His uncle, ever the peacekeeper, had wanted Rhaenyra and (Y/N) to be married in the faith of the seven, as he was to Aemma and later Alicent, his father had other ideas however. 

“I do not worship the New Gods, uncle.” (Y/N) pointed out. 

“It is the tradition of the royal family.” The Grand Maester spoke up, as the other lords of the chamber had gone silent as soon as the tensions started to rise, seemingly fearful of angering any member of the royal family. Not that (Y/N) could blame them, he’d heard stories of his father’s infamous fits of anger. 

“(Y/N) follows the Old Gods like his mother,” His father looked pained to speak the words, but (Y/N) gave him an appreciative nod all the same. “And I have not known Rhaenyra to spend her days in the sept. We are Targaryens, they should marry in the tradition of Old Valyria.” 

“The faith-” 

“Fuck the faith.” Daemon spat. “I will not ask my son to forsake his gods so that some fat septon is comfortable, and we cannot bring a weirwood here so this is the only equitable compromise I see.” 

His uncle and the members of his council had grumbled at the idea, but eventually they conceded knowing this was an argument they could not win without insulting someone. His uncle dismissed them all, brows pinched in frustration. (Y/N) had caught his father’s arm on the way out, stopping him from walking away. 

“Thank you.” He did not meet his father’s eyes. “I know faith is not important to you, but it is to me so- just- thank you.” 

His father gently cupped his cheek, bringing (Y/N)’s eyes up to meet his. His father smiled at him, “You do not have to thank me. It is no secret that I hold no love for your mother’s house, but you do, and you are my blood. I will always defend you.” 

His father’s words still hung over his head by the time (Y/N) and Vermithor had returned to the Dragonpit. 

Rhaenyra was waiting for him as he dismounted, accompanied by a slew of Kingsguard and a royal carriage. The Kingsguard watched Vermithor warily as he grumbled, huffing as though he could sense (Y/N)’s apprehension at the sight laid out before him. 

 “Lykirī.” (Y/N) whispered, urging the bronze beast to return to the Dragonpit. Vermithor huffed one last time at the men, causing (Y/N) to chuckle, before returning. (Y/N) walked over to Rhaenyra, untying his hair and letting it tumble down to his shoulders. “That is quite the party, Nyra.” 

She sighed, “Our presence is required at the keep. We must be readied to greet the lords arriving at the court.” 

A Kingsguard opened the door of the carriage, and (Y/N) offered his hand for Rhaenyra to take. She took his hand, using it as leverage to step into the carriage and (Y/N) followed suit, taking the seat across from her. 

“What troubles you?” 

Rhaenyra blinked at (Y/N), “I am not troubled.” 

“Rhaenyra,” (Y/N) said, smiling slightly, “I can tell something is troubling you. Is it tonight?” 

“No,” She shook her head, leaning forward and placing her hand on (Y/N)’s knee. “No, it’s not tonight, it is this morning. My father is still blind to the schemes of some of those present in his court, they seek to undermine our family in favor of the Hightower children.” 

“Your father will not claim Aegon over you. You are his heir, you will be Queen and no scheming lord can change that.” 

Rhaenyra smiled, squeezing his knee slightly before releasing him and sitting back. (Y/N) turned to look out of the carriage, leaning back into the cushions and closing his eyes. He heard Rhaenyra chuckle softly, before the exhaustion of the day overtook him and he slipped away to sleep.

“You seem nervous.” (Y/N) turned, coming face to face with his cousin. He gave his best attempt at a smile, he fiddled with the collar of his shirt, and Gerold stepped forward. He adjusted the leather jerkin, allowing (Y/N) to breathe easier. “It is odd to see you in such formal attire.” 

(Y/N) laughed, “At least they don’t have dragons on them.” 

“No? I have heard a rumor that you’ve become quite the dragonlord in your absence.” 

(Y/N) reddened, ducking his head slightly, “It was an accident.” 

His cousin laughed, patting him on the shoulder, “There is no need to be nervous, cousin.” 

His cousin smiled at him one last time before joining his other cousin in the precession line. (Y/N) frowned at the sight of Gunthor, he’d been informed when his family and their court had arrived that his grandsire had fallen ill not long after (Y/N) departed, and in his heirs absence his cousin Gunthor, second in line, had taken his place as regent. His grandsire had been too ill to make the journey to Kingslanding, sending (Y/N) his well wishes and Gunthor in his place. 

A sudden hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He turned his head to catch his father smiling, he squeezed his shoulder. “The tailors did well, you look like a prince.” 

“I am a prince.” (Y/N) said, and his father’s smile widened. 

“Yes, you are. Remember that, as there are those that would hope you forget.” His father nodded in the direction of Gunthor, and (Y/N)’s expression soured. 

“I do not trust him, I cannot say why but-” (Y/N) frowned, staring at his cousin’s interactions with the Valemen around him. “He did not write to me to tell me of my grandsire’s illness. I am the heir, I should be regent, not him, and yet in my absence he swooped in.” 

His father nodded, “Good. You must recognize the snakes before they strike.” 

His father stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the Valemen. “I am aware that we do not have the best relationship-” 

(Y/N) snorted, and Daemon laughed rolling his eyes. “Yes I know, but you are my son, my blood. And I would like to be not just your sire, but your father as well. I was not there in your youth, let me be there now.” 

(Y/N) frowned, hesitating. He swallowed before finally speaking, “May we speak of this after the feast?” 

“Of course,” His father lightly touched his cheek, “Come we should join the others.” 

He and his father took their places at the front of the party, Gunthor to (Y/N)’s left and Daemon to his right. (Y/N) took a deep breath as the doors opened, keeping his gaze on the two banners bearing the sigils of House Targaryen and House Royce hung in the back of the Great Hall as his family entered. 

“Ser Gunthor of House Royce. Acting Lord of Runestone, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon. And Prince Daemon Targaryen. And his son and heir to Runestone Prince (Y/N) Targaryen the future King Consort.” 

The guests of the hall stood, clapping as they walked down to the high table. The amount of eyes on him made (Y/N) uneasy, but he kept his head high, posture exuding the confidence expected of one of his station. (Y/N) made eye contact with Rhaenyra at the end of the hall who offered him a comforting smile, he nodded to her. 

They paused at the beginning of the steps, bowing to the King, before Rhaenyra stepped around the table making her way toward the crowd. (Y/N) stepped forward, meeting her halfway, he took her hand as his father had instructed him when going over the etiquette required of him at the feast. 

“You must act every bit the king you will one day be, no matter how unused to these events you may be.” His father had told him. (Y/N) scoffed at the advice, he was raised to be the Lord of Runestone, he knew how to act at a feast. 

As (Y/N) pressed a chaste kiss to Rhaenyra’s hand, and claps echoed around the hall, he cursed himself for not taking his father’s advice seriously. He had never known a feast quite like this, hosting the most important lords of the whole of Westeros. Lords he’d never met before like the Lannisters, Hightowers, and Velaryons. He took his place by Rhaenyra’s side at the table, his father and cousin taking the seats by his left. 

He let out a breath as he sat down, scanning the crowd as his uncle started to speak. Rhaenyra grabbed his hand under the table, squeezing it in reassurance, it was only then that he allowed himself to relax, if only slightly. 

"Be welcome,” His uncle smiled out at the crowd, “As we join together in celebration. Tonight is only its beginning. We honor one of Westeros' oldest houses, and a fierce ally to the crown, House Royce. Just as House Targaryen reaches back to the blood of Old Valyria, House Royce reaches back to the blood of the first men. With House Targaryen and H-"

Viserys paused, and everyone averted their gaze to where his lingered. (Y/N) tensed once more as Queen Alicent Hightower made her entrance into the hall. The color of her dress a clear statement to anyone who knew any of the histories. Reluctantly (Y/N) made his way to his feet with the rest of the guests, he shot an amused glance to his side where his father still sat, eyes narrowed at the young queen. 

Alicent addressed Rhaenyra, “Congratulations, step-daughter. What a blessing this is for you.” 

Rhaenyra gave no indication of thanks, and Alicent kissed Viserys on the cheek before taking her seat beside him. 

He’d not yet had any real interactions with the young queen, only knowing things told to him by Rhaenyra and Daemon. He had taken them with a grain of salt, wanting to make his own judgment of the girl, but with the blatant display she’d just shown to the lord’s of Westeros, (Y/N) decided that maybe Rhaenyra and Daemon had been right in their worries. Perhaps the Hightowers did have their own intentions with the crown. 

“Please be seated.” 

(Y/N) traced the rim of his empty goblet as his uncle stood silently, only picking his eyes up from the table when he started to speak. 

"With House Targaryen and House Royce united, once again, I hope to herald in a second Age of Dawn and Dragons in Westeros.” Viserys spoke, and the hall erupted into applause.

“And after tonight’s small affair,” Laughter sounded through the halls, and (Y/N) had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Seven days of tournament and feasting! And at the end of it all, a royal wedding. Between my daughter, my heir, your future queen. And Prince (Y/N) Targaryen, heir to Runestone.” 

As Viserys sat, and everyone else followed suit, Rhaenyra and (Y/N) rose from theirs. They approached the middle of the aisle, and began their dance. (Y/N) had never been much of a dancer, and suffered through the lessons given to both he and Rhaenyra. 

“I feel like a fool.” (Y/N) whispered as Rhaenyra and he side stepped each other. 

“You are doing wonderfully.” Rhaenyra whispered back, taking her place back to back with him. “Ignore everyone, pretend it is just you and me.” 

When they finished, bowing to one another the halls once again erupted in applause. (Y/N) took Rhaenyra’s hands in his, kissing them softly as she gave him a knowing smile. As the rest of the courtiers took their places on the dance floor, (Y/N) tried to escape back to the high table, longing for a cup of wine. He was stopped before he could reach the table much to his dismay. 

“My Prince.” The lady, who (Y/N) did not recognize, blushed, bowing to him. “May I have this dance?” 

(Y/N) gaped at her, before remembering who and where he was. “Yes, yes of course Lady-” 

“Reyne.” 

“Lady Reyne. (Y/N) smiled, mourning his cup of wine. He gestured toward the lords and lady’s dancing, “Lead the way.” 

He had to dance with five young ladies before he finally found his escape. He flopped, very unprince-like into his seat, immediately grabbing the cup of wine laid out in front of him. His father laughed, waving over a servant to refill the cup once (Y/N) had finished. 

“Not a fan of dancing?” Daemon smirked, “Or is it the ladies asking you to dance you are not fond of?” 

“Both.” (Y/N) spoke over the rim of his cup, “They only wish to dance with me because I am to marry Rhaenyra, if I were just the heir to Runestone they’d pay me little mind.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Daemon said, “You are a comely young man.” 

(Y/N) smirked, “Ladies don’t wish to dance with comely young men.” 

“Neither do lords.” His father raised his eyebrows, humor sparkling in his eyes. 

(Y/N) shrugged, smiling at his father’s tone, “You have been talking to Rhaenyra.” 

Daemon leaned close, patting his son on the leg, “I am just glad you two have made this match work for the both of you.” 

“We are not married yet, father.” (Y/N) reminded, “Things may yet just fall apart.” 

Before his father could speak, another lady made her way to the table. She bowed to both (Y/N) and Daemon. “Prince (Y/N), may I have this dance?” 

Daemon snickered, taking (Y/N)’s cup out of his hand. “Well go on, dance.” 

His father had disappeared from the table when (Y/N) had finished, and his cousins were wrapped up in conversation with a lord (Y/N) did not recognize. He made his way to the sidelines, stealing a full cup of wine, and pressing his back against the wall to avoid being spotted. 

He spied his father in the middle of the dancing, twirling Laena Velayron around, and (Y/N) frowned. His father’s wife, (Y/N)’s own mother, had died only three moons ago, and as far as (Y/N) knew Laena Velayron was engaged to some Brasvosi. 

“You would never know this feast was in your honor the way you frown.” 

(Y/N) turned to face the owner of the voice, smiling as Ser Harwin took a place next to him. “Ser Harwin.” 

“Are you not enjoying the feast, my prince?” Harwin smiled, leaning closer to the prince. 

“I am enjoying the wine, some of the company less so.” (Y/N) said, and Harwin laughed. 

“I understand the sentiment.” 

(Y/N) brought the cup up to his lips, smiling around its rim. Harwin grabbed an empty cup, flagging down a servant who filled both of their cups. (Y/N) watched as his father continued to dance with Laena, and Rhaenyra moved through the crowd, followed closely by Ser Laenor. 

Harwin raised his cup up, and (Y/N) followed suit, “To your marriage.” 

“My marriage.” (Y/N) and Harwin laughed as their cups met. 

(Y/N) spent the rest of the feast by Harwin’s side. Harwin had stopped drinking by his fourth cup, watching in amusement as the prince got drunker and drunker with each cup of wine. As the feast died down, and the lords and ladies took their leave, Harwin had found (Y/N) a seat, and was watching him ramble fondly. 

“I do not care for this court, Harwin.” (Y/N) sighed, leaning his head back. “It was simpler on Runestone, but here, here there are too many lords I do not know. I do not trust them.” 

Harwin laughed, patting the prince’s leg, “Perhaps a hall filled with those lords is not the place to have this conversation, my prince.” 

“(Y/N).” (Y/N) said, straightening. He looked Harwin in the eye, placing his hand on top of the knights. “Please call me (Y/N).” 

Harwin’s eyes softened, “Of course, (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) smiled at the knight, keeping his hand where it was before two twin coughs behind him startled him. (Y/N) jumped, spilling his cup of wine onto himself. Harwin laughed as (Y/N) turned to look at the people behind him. Daemon and Rhaenyra stood above him, both with twin amused smiles on their faces. They had never looked more related, (Y/N) mused. 

“Having fun?” Rhaenyra asked. 

“I was informed that this feast was for me, and that I should try to have some fun.” 

Daemon laughed at his son's words, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him up out of the seat. “I think it’s time you take your leave.” 

Harwin stood, grabbing (Y/N) to help Daemon keep the prince upright. Rhaenyra sighed, a smile still gracing her face. 

“I am glad you enjoyed yourself, (Y/N).” Rhaenyra said. “But perhaps next time you can entertain yourself with less wine.” 

(Y/N) stepped forward, stumbling slightly and both Harwin and Daemon’s eyes widened as he moved. Freeing himself from the men’s grasps, (Y/N) approached Rhaenyra pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“I am sorry that I left you on your lonesome.” (Y/N) said, letting his hand rest on her arm. Rhaenyra smiled, at his words or his drunkenness (Y/N) could not tell. 

She pressed her palm to his cheek, “You are fine. I enjoyed myself plenty.” 

(Y/N) nodded. “Good, because this is for both of us. So we should both enjoy ourselves.” 

“(Y/N),” Rhaenyra laughed, shaking her head. “Let us get you to your chambers.” 

Daemon and Harwin grabbed one of his arms, ignoring (Y/N)’s protests that he could walk by himself. Rhaenyra followed the three men, laughing at (Y/N)’s attempts to break free from the two men, and his drunken rambles to all three of the people accompanying him. When they finally reached the room, with some incident much to Harwin and Daemon’s dismay and Rhaenyra’s delight, Daemon turned to Harwin. 

“I have him from here, Ser Harwin will you please make sure the princess makes it back to her room.” 

Harwin nodded, and Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s cheek. “I will see you tomorrow at the tourney.” 

“Goodnight, (Y/N), Prince Daemon.” 

(Y/N) and Daemon bid the both of them goodnight, before the guards at (Y/N)’s door open the doors to his chamber and Daemon practically dragged his son into the room. Daemon instructe (Y/N) to lift his arms, and when he did he undid the jerkin and brought the tunic over his head, tossing it to the side. 

“Undo your boots.” 

(Y/N) complied, and when he was done Daemon led him toward the bed. When (Y/N) was seated on the bed, Daemon turned to leave, but (Y/N) grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks. “We have not had our conversation.” 

Daemon smiled, “Rest, we will have it tomorrow I promise.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Alright.” 

Daemon pressed him down into the bed slowly, pushing the blankets back so that (Y/N) could get underneath them. He brushed (Y/N)’s sweaty hair out of his face, smoothing it down not unlike his mother used to do when he was ill. (Y/N) leaned into the touch, and Daemon smiled. 

“Sleep.” 

(Y/N) closed his eyes, slipping quickly into rest. But not before he felt the ghost of lips pressed against his forehead.

(Y/N) hated himself the next morning. 

He closed his eyes as he bathed, letting the warm water alleviate some of his migraine. He dressed slowly, groaning as a loud knock sounded throughout the room. 

“Come in.” 

Daemon strolled into the room, taking a look at his son’s appearance before chuckling. “How are you feeling?” (Y/N) just glared at him, causing Daemon to laugh again. He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.” 

Daemon placed a small vile in front of him, and (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s watered down dreamwine,” Daemon said, “For your head.” 

“Oh,” (Y/N) took the vial, opened it and sniffed it a bit before downing it. “Thank you.” 

Daemon nodded, turning to leave. 

“Are you not here to continue our conversation?” (Y/N) called out, and Daemon turned back to face him. 

“I just wanted to see if you were well.” 

“I am.” (Y/N) smiled, “I just have a headache, I will live.” 

Daemon nodded, taking a seat across from (Y/N). He looked nervous at the thought of continuing their conversation from before the feast, it endeared (Y/N) to see his father’s usual tough exterior come crumbling down at the idea of a conversation. 

Giving his father some respite, (Y/N) changed the topic of conversation, “I saw you dancing with Laena Velayron last night. Is she not already betrothed?” 

“A man cannot dance with a lady?” Daemon asked, although his expression gave him away. 

“Not when that man is you, father.” (Y/N) said. “Do you wish to get remarried? You have no real need for any more heirs.” 

Daemon shrugged, “Perhaps I wish for company.” 

“You are lonely?” (Y/N) almost laughed at the thought. He could not imagine the so-called Lord of Flea Bottom wanting for the comforts of a lady. 

“Well my only son prefers to spend his time at Runestone pretending I don’t exist.” 

(Y/N)’s mood soured, and he frowned. He turned away from his father, crossing his arms like he wasn’t a man of seven and ten and instead a boy of nine. “You did not give me a choice. I was just saving myself from the pain I would feel when you inevitably wouldn’t arrive.” 

“I know.” Daemon ran his hand down his face. “I did not mean that I apologize.” 

“You know you have missed my last ten name days.” (Y/N) whispered. 

“I know.” Daemon said. “I sent you presents but I know that does not make up for my absence.” 

“I never received any gifts.” 

Daemon looked up in confusion, his expression contorted before he let out a bitter laugh. “No, of course you didn’t. Your mother probably never gave them to you. She never held any love for me.” 

“I remember you did not hold much for her either.” (Y/N) spat. “She told me that you fled Runestone the night after I was born, and did not return until my first name day only to flee that night as well.” 

“I was a boy, no older than you are now.” 

“That is no excuse!” 

“No it’s not and I have regretted my decisions every day! I was scared, (Y/N)!” Daemon stood. “When I found out your mother was pregnant I was terrified. We held no love toward each other, and I feared that our hatred toward each other would impact you. I was an idiot boy so I fled. Then you were born, and I was still just this boy, and you were so pure and I could not corrupt that with my hatred so I feld again. I fled again and again, because I was scared I could not be a good father to you, as I could not be a good husband to your mother and she could not be a good wife to me. When I finally realized what an imbecile I had been it was too late, you had no idea who I was.” 

(Y/N) remembered the day of his fourth name day vaguely. 

“(Y/N),” His mother gestured to a skinny man with pale hair and eyes like (Y/N). “Your father is here to see you.” 

The man approached him, and (Y/N) stepped back, placing his mother between him and this stranger. The man’s face fell, and he stumbled back. 

“Perhaps it would be best if I left.” 

“Daemon-” 

“It’s fine.” The man handed a wrapped package to his mother. “Give this to him.”

"You're running? Again?"

"Look at him Rhea-"

"No, run. Like you always do."

The man opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed to think better of it. He turned on his heel and left, and (Y/N)'s mother scoffed.

He had seen his father only a few times after that day, and their meetings had always been brief and curt. His mother had certainly not helped (Y/N)’s view of his father, only ever nodding and staying silent when (Y/N) would complain. He had once asked her why Daemon did not stay for more than a night, and his mother had replied that his father hated the Vale and many of those who resided there. It had crushed (Y/N) to hear, but after learning of the gifts his father had sent that he had not received he could only wonder how much of his own hatred for his father was just what he learned to feel from his mother. 

“I am sorry for my absence.” Daemon said. “I can never make up those lost years, and I know my youth and stubbornness is no excuse but-” 

His father took a deep breath, “(Y/N), I wish- if you would allow, for us to start again. I know I cannot ask you to forget the years I was not there for you, but allow me to start again.” 

“I understand.” (Y/N) said, “I cannot forgive-” 

“-I wouldn’t ask you to-” 

“-but I understand. I understand more than I did at the very least.” (Y/N) said, and the tension in his father’s shoulders eased. (Y/N) smiled, it was probably a bit pained, (Y/N)’s head throbbing even more with the revelations of the morning. “We can try to start again. I make no promises, but we can try.” 

His father smiled, a genuine smile that (Y/N) had never seen across his father’s face before. “Thank you.”

“You are not participating, (Y/N)?” 

(Y/N) looked at the queen from where he was seated next to Rhaenyra, shaking his head politely. “I am not a knight, Queen Alicent.” 

Alicent looked him up and down, the motion making him squirm a bit. She did not respond but she nodded, turning her gaze back to the tourney fields. 

His father was not participating in the tourney either, instead taking a seat in the stands. Ser Harwin was participating though, much to Rhaenyra’s delight. (Y/N) did not find much delight in tourney’s, bloodshed was not a game to be played. 

In all honesty, (Y/N) was bored watching the tourney. Ser Criston had won, wearing Alicent’s favor which (Y/N) could tell irritated Rhaenyra. By the time the melee rolled around the next day (Y/N) was dreading spending the hot day in the stands of the tourney grounds. 

“May I have your favor, princess.” 

Rhaenyra laughed, giving Harwin a small piece of cloth. He tucked it into his armor, turning to (Y/N) who smiled. 

“I don’t have a favor,” (Y/N) said, and Harwin smiled, cheeks reddening slightly. “But I wish you luck.” 

“Thank you, (Y/N).” 

Their luck and favors did Harwin no favors in the melee. Rhaenyra had shrieked when Cristion’s morningstar made contact with Harwin’s collarbone, shattering it and his elbow. But the worst injury of the day had been to Ser Joffrey, and (Y/N) could not get Laenor’s cries out of his mind even as he fell asleep that night. 

There were no more tourney’s after that as a solemn mood had fallen over the royal court. Ser Harwin would live (Y/N) and Rhaenyra discovered, but Ser Joffrey was not likely to. And as it happened six days later, Joffrey passed, and Ser Laenor was inconsolable. Rhaenyra and (Y/N) both tried, even if (Y/N) was not as close with his cousin as Rhaenyra was, but in the end the knight took his leave back to Driftmark before the wedding even happened. 

(Y/N) spent the night before the wedding with his father. His father told him the story of his wedding with (Y/N)’s mother, describing how (Y/N)’s grandfather, Baelon, had to drag Daemon to Runestone. 

“If it is any comfort,” (Y/N) mused. “You had to drag me to Kingslanding.” 

Daemon laughed, “I did. But you will have a much happier marriage than your mother and I.” 

(Y/N) lifted his cup, “One can hope.” 

The wedding itself snuck up on (Y/N), the events of the week leading up to it not allowing him to worry about the ceremony. It was only now that he was dressed in red and gold Valyrian robes, standing atop Rhaenys’ hill, surrounded by the lords and ladies of Westeros, that the nerves started to reach him. 

He could hear the distant roars of the dragon’s in the dragon pit as the priest spoke. (Y/N) lifted the dragonglass blade, handed to him by the priest. He made quick eye contact with his father, who only nodded, before slicing Rhaenyra’s bottom lip. He gathered the blood from the cut, dragging his thumb down her forehead. Rhaenyra took her own blade, repeating the action on (Y/N) before slicing her palm.(Y/N) dragged the blade against his palm, taking Rhaenyra’s hand in his. They joined their blood as the priest spoke. 

(Y/N) took the cup handed to him, drinking from it, before handing it to Rhaenyra who did the same. The priest finished his rites, and (Y/N) cupped Rhaenyra’s cheek, he could taste the blood as he brought her lips to meet his. (Y/N) rested his forehead against Rhaenyra’s as cheers were sounded around them. When they pulled away and faced the crowd, he could see his father and uncle smiling. 

Their hands were wrapped by the priest, covering the open wounds, and they descended down the hill. Rhaenyra did not let go of his hand as they went, smiling at him as he helped her into the carriage waiting for them. “Thank you, valzȳrys.”

Both he and Rhaenyra were dressed in their small clothes separately. He’d been offered food and wine before he was brought over to Rhaenyra’s chambers, but he turned them down. He did not wish to spend his wedding night addled by wine. 

Viserys had insisted on a bedding ceremony, and Daemon had no qualms with the idea. But both (Y/N) and Rhaenyra protested. The meeting had ended unsuccessfully, but (Y/N) suspected Rhaenyra had private words with her father, as by the next meeting the topic had been dropped completely and it was agreed there would be no such ceremony. 

The doors to Rhaenyra’s chambers were opened by the guards, and (Y/N) stepped into the room. Rhaenyra was sitting by the vanity, brushing her hair in a velvet dress that hung loosely from her body. (Y/N) felt like a hedge knight in his plain cloth clothing. 

She smiled at him, placing the brush down on the vanity. She glided across the room, coming to stand in front of him. “Valzȳrys.” 

“Ābrazȳrys” 

Rhaenyra gently grasped the laces of his tunic, undoing them slowly. She kept eye contact with (Y/N) as she did so, letting his tongue wet her lower lip as the laces were fully loosened. (Y/N) grabbed the bottom of his tunic, bringing it up over his head, and placing it on a chair next to him. 

Rhaenyra took a deep breath as she watched (Y/N), she brought her hand up and gingerly traced the contours of his abdomen. (Y/N) took her hand in his, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

“Turn around.” (Y/N) said, and Rhaenyra complied. 

He stepped forward, brushing her hair to her front so that he could see the back of her dress. She shivered as his breath touched the back of her neck. He undid the laces of her dress with careful precision, causing her to laugh and joke. 

“Done this before?” 

Instead of responding, (Y/N) let the dress fall down her shoulders, leaving her bare. She stiffened as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, before relaxing as he moved his mouth up her neck. She turned around and (Y/N)’s mouth went dry at the sight of her bare in front of him. She grabbed his neck, leaning up and connecting their lips. She grasped the laces of his trousers, undoing them in haste and shoving them down his legs. (Y/N) stepped out of them, groaning into Rhaenyra’s lip as she grasped him. He could feel her smile against his lips, and he pulled away bringing his mouth to her chest, eliciting a gasp from the princess. 

“(Y/N),” She gasped, and he kissed up her chest to her collarbone and back up to her lips, swallowing her next words. 

He pulled her close to him, lifting her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist and carried her to the bed. He gently set her down, and she smiled up at him. He returned the smile, before reconnecting their lips. Rhaenyra gasped as (Y/N) pulled away to mouth at her neck, she tangled her fingers in his hair pulling him up from where there would inevitably be a mark on her skin the next morning. 

“Stop teasing.” 

“Hen rhinka, ñuha ābrazȳrys.”

---

Translations -

Lykirī - be calm

Sōvēs - fly

Valzȳrys - husband

Ābrazȳrys - wife

Hen rhinka, ñuha ābrazȳrys - of course, my wife

[moonbaby26]

Title: Trust

(Chapter 19 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Smoker x Reader (in the past)

Chapter Warnings: language, toxic relationships, Doflamingo is still insane, breeding kink

Chapter Synopsis: As the marines begin to react further in response to Doflamingo’s public ensnarement of you and their true helplessness in it all, the warlord still grapples with the mistakes of his past that he now refuses to repeat.

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

Fic Masterlist

——————————

——————————

Only once in Sengoku’s life could he remember ever truly yelling at this woman. And he’d had tears running down his face the night that he’d done so.

Five years ago, when they’d also been on the phone together, oceans apart much like they were now. 

And to his shame, in the grief of that moment, Sengoku had had the gall to accuse Tsuru of holding back. He’d told her that her softness had allowed Doflamingo one too many second chances.

Sengoku had blamed her for still wishing to save what was already long gone within that boy, and thereby enabling every subsequent tragedy which followed from his actions. 

He remembered yelling that it should have been Doflamingo lying cold and dead two decks below her in that makeshift morgue on her warship, and not his precious Rosinante instead.

He’d berated a woman he trusted more than any other in this world. As if she hadn’t been sitting there in silence with that very same pain in her heart that night. 

Sengoku had been too consumed in his own emotions then, when it’d only been Tsuru who had had to personally oversee the retrieval of the body once Doflamingo’s ship had again escaped over the horizon.

Only she had been the one barking orders at her entirely confused crew. Telling them to treat a former Donquixote executive’s remains with care befitting one of their own as they’d unknowingly dug Sengoku’s adopted son from the still falling snow with their bare hands.

“I gave you as many days as I could.” Is what she told him now.

And her voice was as cold as that snow must have been then. Though she still didn’t yell at him in the way he deserved. Tsuru didn’t return that cruelty that he’d given her those years ago.

Not yet.

The fleet admiral’s eyes were closed behind his glasses in guilt regardless. His forehead rested against his hand in his disgust for what these webs had really become.

Somehow they had all become entwined.

Somehow this nightmare had still never stopped.

Rosinante had sworn to him that he would not go back to his brother in the end. Because they had all known the danger and most likely final result. 

And Tsuru had never expected you to have needed to make that same promise to them.

Rosinante had gone to Minion Island willingly. Just as you’d gone to Scylla, specifically requesting leave there that Momonga hadn’t known enough to deny.

And Doflamingo had been ready and waiting both times.

Neither you or Rosinante had left that devil again after stepping willfully back into his strings.

And why?

Why could Doflamingo never be sated? Why did it always have to be those that they already loved that he took?

“Every day, Tsuru. Every day I have been asking the Five Elders of when enough is enough. Or even for them to give me a single goddamn reason. A reason of why he’s now become this untouchable.”

Sengoku had taken all the criticism from his admirals, from Garp, and from Tsuru. But he had never stopped working towards a resolution behind the scenes.

Because this was so deeply personal.

It didn’t matter that you were only a captain, only a single marine in his ranks of thousands.

He’d never wanted Tsuru to have to go through this as he had with Rosinante.

But today’s newspaper and the lies within had been her final straw. 

This phone line was encrypted. But it may not have mattered today. She was that furious.

“I want you to understand that this call is simply a courtesy. I will not be returning to HQ. I will not be maintaining the blockade here. Cipher Pol is welcome to keep chasing my ship as they see fit. But we’re crossing the calm belt and heading for Dressrosa.”

His most steadfast vice admiral was now abandoning her post in Lyra.

“I’ll deal with Cipher Pol.” Sengoku muttered. He’d have to lie that he had given her specific orders to leave. 

Lyra was still under full World Government quarantine. No one was allowed in or out as they finished whatever bioweapon testing they’d really chosen that island and its rebels as horrific test subjects for.

Tsuru had hated that too of course, as anyone with a soul should.

But this additional stress with Doflamingo had broken what remained of that dam and all she’d been holding in. She would not be cooperating a moment further.

“I also want you to check with Mariejois for a marriage registration in his name. I suspect he’s already signed her over to him if he was willing to make this public declaration and antagonize us outright this way.”

Sengoku’s eyes finally opened again there. 

He also knew Tsuru well enough to understand that the false calmness as she said these things meant nothing of her true intentions.

“And if he has done that…what are you going to do with that information?” He asked her with the tension far clearer in his own tone.

The silence hung for a moment.

“You understand what he’s really doing, don’t you?” Her voice sounded briefly more cutting there.

“I don’t try to understand the reasonings of the insane.” Sengoku’s bitterness was reemerging as well.

An enemy would always be an enemy. And Sengoku lived for the day that Doflamingo’s immunity would finally fail him.

But that day was not today.

“He lost his previous marine. By his own hand.” Tsuru said next, somber but factual.

An assumption they always knew must be true. Though Doflamingo had never once confessed to Rosinante’s murder to them outright. 

“He thinks she’s strong enough to survive his madness where so many others have not. He’s betting on that. Because he’s terrified of ending up alone. He always has been.” She said so surely, with that additional impatience that meant she would be hanging up momentarily.

The fleet admiral’s eyes narrowed. But he knew it was already futile. He could stop his own admirals easier than he could this woman once she had made up her mind.

“And how do you know this isn’t exactly what he wants you to do, Tsuru? Just to draw you in as well?”

“I’m an old woman. So it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not letting her endure this alone. Just be ready to mobilize if the winds change in Mariejois.” Her finality was clear.

And it still hurt. Be it today, five years ago, ten years ago, twenty, or more. Sengoku had lost too many loved ones already. 

One day she wouldn’t come back to him either.

This was the way of their world.

“Be safe, Tsuru-chan.” Sengoku’s voice quieted. “Please.”

The snail’s eyes looked out in that knowing silence.

“You know my answer to that.” She spoke one last time before hanging up.

And he could only smirk sadly. “I do.”

Sengoku, Garp, and Tsuru had once considered themselves a trio. They used to laugh about inescapable danger.

Death will come when my purpose is done.

That had been their irreverent rhyme of a saying. One far easier said in the arrogance of youth. And not from the aged veterans they’d become, just trying to protect their vulnerable seeds of the future.

——————————

“Oh, boo hoo! Just get over it already! If you didn’t want to share your notes, then you should have encrypted your data better!” Caesar’s golden eyes had gleamed as he floated closer, the newspaper still spread taut within his grip.

He was grinning too, flipping through the pages again and the pictures that graced them. “What a lovely couple! So how could you be so selfish as to not grant their hearts’ desire?”

Vegapunk made another disinterested noise, looking through large goggles and still trying to resume the experiment he had so frustratingly been interrupted from when Caesar had first burst into his lab. 

“If you had any ethics or common sense at all, you would drop this subject immediately. It’s not our place to interfere in something like that.” The older scientist tried to rebuff again.

“You think I don’t have common sense!?” Caesar’s voice was immediately more grating as his thin lips moved back into a scowl.

“I look the other way repeatedly for you,” Vegapunk reminded, already used to these theatrics from the other. Though still watching the beaker in front of him as its contents began to change in density and color. 

“I’ve ignored your greed and resulting moonlighting of still selling illicit compounds right from our backdoor. As well as your questionable tastes in companionship at all hours in your quarters. Your ‘socializing’ is quite loud and distracting.” Vegapunk also criticized.

Caesar blinked. So what? When he did have escorts over to visit from Dressrosa, they were paid very well for their trip. And he’d be damned if after spending that much of his payments from Joker on such entertainment, that he would have just let those women lay in his bed quietly. 

“Ugh, spare me your false modesty! You dirty old hypocrite.” Caesar clucked, waving a gloved hand dismissively even as he now floated to Vegapunk’s other side like an insistent child. 

“These two are my friends, I’m telling you. And they are desperate to start a family!” He just went on, then trying to shove the newspaper in front of the other scientist again.

“I already read it.” Vegapunk responded flatly. “And you don’t have any friends. I know Doflamingo must be your client. There is no other reason for you to be as fixated as you are with him. Money and cruelty are the only things which have ever enticed you to this degree.”

“Well he enjoys my creativity! And he knows a real genius when he sees one!” Caesar didn’t even bother to fully deny the accusation that time. If Vegapunk really was going to tattle on him just for taking money under the table, he already would have. Though Caesar was sure even Dr. Vegapunk didn’t know all the things they’d been cooking up together.

“He’s just using you. And you’re insecure enough to encourage it.”

“He is not just-” Caesar’s quick temper nearly got away from him all the way there, before he briefly bit his own lip to stop it. “Okay, fine! Doflamingo wants a child with her. I don’t even know this girl or care what she thinks! But look at the full picture. What happens to queens that don’t hold up their end of the bargain in giving a man like that his heirs?”

Caesar rather gleefully made an exaggerated pantomime of moving his finger in a sharp slice against his own throat to this.

And finally, only at that insinuation of barbarism to a supposed innocent like yourself, did Vegapunk actually look him in the eyes. Secretly sympathetic as that fool could often be. 

“And how could I trust he wouldn’t still harm her regardless?” The older man asked, rightfully skeptical.

“Because it doesn’t matter of course! Doflamingo will be here tomorrow night to pick this up either way!” Caesar exclaimed, lifting the small vial he’d already made from his gaseous coat pocket. 

“But my serum for her will be meaningless if he isn’t capable of delivering on the other half of the equation!” Caesar attempted to reiterate that need for urgency as well. “After all these years of working together, you’re really just going to leave me hanging like this, Vegapunk?”

“You should be embarrassed is what you should be. You got yourself into this mess. And now you come to my lab, interrupting me just to admit you don’t know how to mitigate something as simple as varicoceles in the testes?” Vegapunk asked with further incredulousness.

Yet Caesar ignored that heavier insult just this once, eyes widening as he pointed at the other scientist instead. “Aha! So you did already look at the data to figure out a solution! I knew it! Your ego couldn’t help it, could it? You prideful monster!”

“Of course I can correct it! At least temporarily at least. His lineage factors are a mess of recessive alleles.” Vegapunk did look properly shamed for only that moment to be so called out though. “But how far were you planning on going? What’s in your serum that could conflict with mine if I do make one? Is this full blown eugenics?“

Caesar paused, his seeming victory only weakened in his belated realization that Vegapunk may have indeed noticed more disfunction in Doflamingo’s bloodline than he had at first glance.

But Caesar would never admit aloud that his own concoction could be even further insufficient then. Yet he knew just how to give Vegapunk that extra, personal investment to do the rest of the hard work for him.

“He was aware of Vinsmoke’s wife.” Caesar admitted abruptly there, feigning an extra somber expression even if this was actually the truth. “And Doflamingo was explicit about wanting both his baby and the womb owner to survive without permanent damage this time. So I’d say whatever it takes to ensure that.”

Vegapunk lifted up his goggles then, watching the gas logia user carefully. Those stressed brow lines were now wrinkling all the way up the older scientist’s unnaturally large forehead.

He had indeed taken that emotional bait when it came to thinking of Sora’s death.

A tragedy that his weaker heart did not think worth repeating.

“If you’re going to be like Judge to do this to some poor woman either way…it might as well be safe. Give me your serum so I can analyze it. I’ll come up with something.” Vegapunk sighed.

And Caesar smiled.

It really was too easy.

————————— 

The sun was beating down by midday. Hot and relentless, just the way Doflamingo wanted it to be for this as he stretched his long legs across your lap, relaxing on his outdoor couch together by the pool.

At least he was relaxing anyway. You were quite a different story.

You hadn’t yet recovered from his confessions of this morning. And well…also from the totality of every other thing that had occurred from the moment he’d first kissed your hand in front of those camera flashes in the bloodied ballroom in Scylla to today.

And it had only been days, not weeks since then. But he lived a fast paced life.

One which you were now living too.

The newspaper had finally come as well, just as over the top and simultaneously aghast and excited by his manufactured drama as expected. The world would be salivating to see the navy’s next official reaction to your and his sordid love story he was sure.

But you’d refused to read a word of it yet. 

Just as you also refused the untouched food still on the tray in front of you.

Only Doflamingo and his crew ate. Enjoying lunch and drinks as he took a few more phone calls while the other Donquixote members either sunbathed or played cards in the shade beneath the archways.

He’d left the palace gates closed. There were no money hungry sycophants in their little string bikinis bouncing around to distract him today.

He already had the pretty toy he wanted most right now.

Though you had needed a bit of help. He’d made you change out of the ugly clothes he knew you’d been hiding your wounds in this morning. 

So you were currently in a very short sundress he’d chosen instead. One he could tell you hated as his gaze rarely left your more exposed figure and bared shoulders while he talked on the phone.

He didn’t conduct any business conversations he was too concerned with you hearing though. He made sure of that. It was mostly just receiving flattery as other high ranking contacts of his called to offer their mix of congratulations and surprise.

Everyone wanted to know a wedding date. They wanted to know his next move with the marines. And if they knew him even a little better than most, then they were trying to get a sense of his motives too.

What was in it for Joker?

Surely Donquixote Doflamingo didn’t have a heart.

They all knew he already had money, power, and more lovers waiting in the wings than he could possibly run his cock through on any given night.

So what the hell could a random marine provide to him now?

And such burning curiosity about you apparently extended to his uninvited guests as well, just as Doflamingo had ended another call, returning the receiver back to his snail beside him.

The Tontattas had been especially bold ever since your arrival in Dressrosa. As if they really thought he hadn’t noticed their little scouts flitting about more and more often.

Target practice was all he’d call them whenever they failed to stay on his blind side though. And he enjoyed the way he did see you startle as that bullet string left his fingertip without warning.

The resulting pop of the then exploding terracotta roof tile he’d hit had his officers looking briefly skyward as well.

But there was no blood spatter running down the eaves this time, a rare miss for him.

“Just clearing some of the bigger bugs we get around here.” Doflamingo chuckled as his vague explanation to you anyway, kicking his shoes off then as he kept his legs still across your thighs. “They’re a nuisance.”

“I didn’t see anything.” You said quietly. The first words you’d spoken in a few hours at least.

“They’re fast.” He answered simply, albeit smiling just to hear your voice again.

It was true he hadn’t intended to have this morning go as oddly as it had with you.

But he hadn’t expected to find your tired eyes boring through him just like his brother’s used to either. Only complimented by the haunting smell of the cigarette smoke as it’d drifted from you like a vengeful ghost, there to grab a hold of him as soon as he’d reentered his suite.

It was too many memories for him, too many feelings all at once. And things had just started falling from his lips afterward.

He’d told you how you did remind him of Corazon. 

And how he couldn’t lose that twice.

How badly he wanted his blood family back.

And how he would make you be the means to that end in any way necessary.

But he hadn’t yet taken your contraceptive pills away either. Because you were this stressed already, even with you believing there was still more time for you.

He’d let you think you were still being protected by those pills for now. Not so much as a real mercy to you, but more because he wanted you to eat again. He needed you to relax again.

So that he could have you functioning to do what he needed to do with you. It made his life easier if you weren’t in a full blown breakdown twenty-four seven.

Though since you were already this upset this morning. There was one other thing he’d planned to now get out of the way as he felt that first bead of sweat running down his chest in this oppressive heat.

Doflamingo smiled wider at you as he slid his legs back off of your lap for his bare feet to meet the warm ground.

This dangerous idea was yet another reason he’d shut everyone but his most trusted out of the courtyard now.

“I think we should cool off, love.” He said so casually then too. His head turning to look briefly towards that tranquil water which sparkled in the sunlight without a soul yet within it.

And his sunglasses were just as reflective as that deep water when he looked back to you. You and the dark realization already beginning across your own face while his hand grazed your bandaged thigh.

That wrapping would just have to be redone again.

“I’ll get in if you do.” He promised then, but unable to keep the cruelty from his resulting smirk either. You were just too smart as he saw the correct assumption fill your eyes, hungover or not. You were learning the proper times to assume the worst in his intentions.

“But yes…you first. I want to see you swim for me.” He confirmed as his smirk grew into a grin.

“You already know I’m not a devil fruit user. A test isn’t necessary.” Came your first attempt at argument regardless.

And he’d known it would be this way. He had no illusions of you going easily to anything right now.

His executives were already getting up though, listening to you both as they began to spread out around the pool.

He had warned them of this earlier.

“Just like we knew my brother wasn’t hiding a power from us either?” Doflamingo tutted at you anyway. “Official records can lie, darling. And you’re so good at what you do. I just need to be sure this time. I’d hate to ever carry doubt of my own wife…that’d just be miserable for me.”

For him.

At least he said it out loud this time.

Because his own emotions were all he thought of as he refused any further stalling on your part. The sooner this was over, the faster he could return to the pleasure he wanted.

“I’ll be waiting for you on the steps. That will be your only way out.” Doflamingo spoke so calmly, even as he’d yanked you off that couch by your arm when he’d stood.

And you’d still almost set him off balance in return when the struggle began. No small feat for someone already injured and only partly his size. But his strings pulled your legs out from under you with equal vigor before you could kick him.

He had to be fast, very fast, throwing you before your strong grip could get a solid hold on him either.

There was no guilt in him either of course. No matter how many times you’d already gotten further upset over this exact kind of rough treatment.

Part of his shirt sleeve which you’d ripped still ended up in the pool however. Floating, torn on the water’s surface once that large splash collapsed back in on itself after you’d hit the water.

“She sank!” Trebol exclaimed, sounding delighted.

“Everyone does at first. It’s whether she comes back up or not.” Diamante answered slightly more sensibly, but looking at the still rippling water with an eager anticipation all his own. 

Doflamingo knew there was some jealousy at play in their excitement of course. They thought you hadn’t yet earned your place at his side.

And only they’d seen the mess he’d really been after Rosinante. To which they’d all vowed never again.

They had every right to be this overprotective of him now.

Doflamingo’s own grin had vanished with your body as he’d stalked the edge of the pool in that brief time between. His height giving him an excellent vantage point while the still disturbed water now lapped the sides.

“How long do you want to wait, Doffy?” Pica was the only one already sounding anxious by comparison. Pica’s devil fruit could lift the entire courtyard, and dump all that water in an instant if his master only bid it.

“Her wounded leg certainly won’t help her. Give it a little longer.” Doflamingo answered firmly.

He couldn’t let them rush things. Because this trial was actually two fold after all.

Part one was just to clear the last of his anxiety of your hiding any secrets like his last Corazon.

And part two…

“Remember, if she comes up at any of the sides, don’t let her out. She only leaves the pool through me.” Doflamingo reminded his men as he now removed the rest of his torn shirt.

He had seen the warped shape of you finally moving along the bottom. You weren’t paralyzed, though he hadn’t truly expected you to be. His stress could now shift to what he had to do next to himself. 

His men hadn’t liked this portion of the plan earlier when he’d said it in private. And they certainly didn’t enjoy seeing it in action now as Doflamingo first stepped off the side and onto the underwater stairs which led to the pool’s bottom.

But he’d timed it well, wading in only in his capris pants. The cooler water was all the way to his knees just as your head at last broke the surface.

You looked initially furious of course. Spitting out water and barely staying afloat, fighting your weakened leg just as he’d thought while you kicked hard to stay upright. Your feet were nowhere near the bottom in that deepest section of the pool.

And just as you’d spun to curse or even fight one of them, his breath had caught as he felt the paralysis begin through his own lower body all at once when the water met his thighs.

Doflamingo’s power was fully ripped away as he landed on his ass on one of those submerged steps. The water then up to his chest so quickly as he panted, his weight falling back just enough to touch his shoulders to the pool wall.

He’d barely managed to keep his arms above the water. Now only able to move them weakly as they laid limply stretched on either side of him along the pool’s edge.

This was much deeper than the time he’d sat in the bath with you. That time had only made him feel pleasantly sluggish on top of disconnecting from his devil fruit.

But right now, he couldn’t even have stood up if he’d tried.

And if he slipped further down or fell forward instead…

“So you can swim.” Doflamingo spoke through his now labored breathing, forcing a smile regardless of that near atrophy then spreading into his chest muscles. 

There was still a very specific high in this for him of course. The rush of experiencing such primal fear he rarely got to play with. Not when he was so much stronger than anyone else he normally faced. 

His crew was horror stricken to silence however. But the executives were keeping the officers dutifully back. Letting their insane master do as he wished. Even if it meant now handing himself to you on a platter just to see your reaction.

This second test was him wishing to confirm that additional difference between you and his brother in the end. 

And all the more reason he really had thrown you into the deep as violently as he could.

Because humans showed their true colors most in times of duress. And he already had an idea of what you really were. 

But he wanted to show the others. And he wanted to remind himself after he’d briefly seen his brother staring back at him this morning.

“The fuck.”

He saw you mouth those two words more than you actually said them as you finally saw him and his too precarious placement on those steps.

Your eyes narrowed and you took a sharp breath before going immediately back under.

It was easier for you to swim just beneath the surface, not fighting to keep yourself above it as the shape of you then moved towards him quicker than even he’d expected.

And he could still feel everything so acutely too as his body beautifully suffered. Your soft hands as they opened against his bare chest. Your knees as they bumped against his inner thighs.

You emerged right in front of him in no time at all, shoving him to put his back harder against that pool wall. The texture was so rough, scraping against his shoulders as he breathed louder.

“Was I already slipping, my love?” Doflamingo asked, trying to keep his head raised to watch you as a chuckle rumbled through him. You were fully holding his torso up by then.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!? You think this shit is funny!?” You bitched loud enough that every member of his crew surely heard you that time.

And it was a little frustrating to him, not to be able to just kiss you then and there with that lovely fear still in your eyes.

But he couldn’t move his body enough to do it. So he had to settle for another intoxicated smile instead. He couldn’t get enough of you like this. 

“You surpass every expectation…you really do.” He tried to purr through his panting.

Because he knew it.

It wasn’t just about this silly game for you. It wasn’t anything about this goddamn pool at all really.

Your eyes said everything you were feeling.

And so Doflamingo laughed, even as your smaller arms tried to catch under his and force him up one stair step at a time. Wet skin to wet skin as you fought his dead weight with no help from his crew.

Donquixote Doflamingo could make anyone do anything. He could beat them, break them, cut them, or shoot them.

But he couldn’t make someone care. 

Not the way you did, so naturally and sincerely.

You were too obvious, and he was loving every moment even as his back finally fell out flat and hard to the ground. Laying beside the pool with only his legs then still in the water as you nearly fell on top of him after forcing him out.

“You are too damn big! You fucking asshole!” You were breathing harder, in clear pain for the unexpected exertion you’d just endured.

No, you were not at all the next Rosinante in his mind at least.

Because your feelings for him were different than that, and his anxiety of this morning had finally quieted in this affirmation.

The heated air now against Doflamingo’s skin revitalized him rather quickly too. Only his knees were still bent over the pool edge with his calves and feet in the water as he grabbed you quickly before you could think twice.

“And you were so upset this morning…and for what?” He teased, pulling you down onto his chest to stop you from getting away. 

He didn’t care if the girls in his crew would already be blushing now. 

The two of you were laid in quite the compromising way then, glistening in the sunlight together.

Doflamingo was already strong enough again to grab one of your hands as he forced it over his still racing heart, continuing to talk to you. “Yes, you’re a marine. But the last one that lived with me aimed a pistol to this instead.” He said in reference to that hotly beating muscle inside, his mouth almost against yours too by then. “If I hadn’t answered with my own, none of this would be possible. Do you understand? He wanted to erase me…and you…” Doflamingo smiled, searching your still emotional eyes from behind his glasses.

“You only want to save me.”

He kissed you right after those words had left his lips, pulling you to him even tighter as he forced his tongue up into your mouth. 

He might have heard Baby 5 gasp. 

Maybe Dellinger had made a retching sound.

But they’d just have to get used to it. 

You were here to stay. And soon enough they’d have a new little brother or sister to go along with this perfect family addition.

—————————

“Vice Admiral Tsuru has abandoned her post in Lyra and is no longer updating her coordinates. At least on our channels.” Tashigi said quietly. “The fleet admiral has ordered no one to speak to the press. And there is still a travel embargo in place to Dressrosa per HQ. No navy ships are allowed to port there until further notice. This order will be strictly enforced by the sailors of base G-5 and their commander Vice Admiral Vergo.”

Smoker remained silent, looking out to sea as his subordinate gave her latest updates from the bulletins that had been coming periodically across the snails all day.

Some transmissions were official, some more secondhand, leap frogged in communications from navy ship to navy ship here in the New World as everyone clamored to make any real sense of this new humiliation.

“We’ll still beat Tsuru there.” Smoker finally said gruffly.

He was standing alone otherwise.

Even as much of a rookie as Tashigi still was, she was the only one willing to approach him after he’d exploded on the rest of the crew earlier.

Smoker had yelled, asking how braindead they had to be to believe these steaming piles of dogshit being purported as the truth about you now.

And he could rage at his own men to knock sense into them all he wanted. But he knew their opinions would now reflect the majority of marines regardless.

Doflamingo was purposefully cutting off your support.

Just as Smoker and Aokiji had both assumed that pirate would further try to.

Yet that didn’t mean that Smoker was reacting well either. And he was certain Aokiji would be laid over a bar somewhere in Marineford by tonight.

“Are you okay…Captain?”

Tashigi’s damned soft voice only irritated him further as he bit against his cigars. “Shut off all our snails from here out until Dressrosa is in sight. Then start the S.O.S. signals. Tsuru has the right idea about going dark. There’s nothing else we need to know about this. We stick to the plan and that’s the end of it.”

“Yes, Captain.” She saluted only half heartedly however before walking away to deliver those orders to the communications room.

She even had the audacity to look back over her shoulder too. Her concern so insultingly etched over every bit of her body language as Smoker tried and failed to focus only on the ocean’s windswept whitecaps still in the distance.

He was a practical man. A straight forward man who loathed the idea of ever living within the failures of the past.

Everything should only be the next step forward. The next answer to what existed now, not to what was before.

But even his resolve was not enough to overcome this twisting thing, now eating through his heart and mind as he went through cigar after cigar.

He didn’t care if you hated him any longer.

He only cared if you hated yourself. And if he had so stupidly contributed to it in the end when he’d thought he’d only been pressing you to be better.

You had never been in love with him. Smoker was still certain of this. You’d just been killing time. The two of you were friends that’d gone too far, because it had felt good and you’d both been so similar.

He could trust you and you could trust him. And for almost two years that had been enough.

Until it wasn’t. Until he’d wanted more and it had started to hurt. But you’d never change. And you couldn’t understand why it was wrong. 

Smoker had tried to pull back, expecting you to see it and cut him off with a vengeance. He had no insecurities that made him need to be the first to end it.

He’d wanted you to. To say you’d dumped him so you could walk on with your head held high. You’d needed that win far more than he did.

But you’d clung to him in your own way. And he’d been so irritated by it. Because in every other aspect of your life you were one of the fiercest women he’d ever known.

Yet you just wouldn’t walk away from him as many times as he’d tried to push you towards freedom.

The true end in his mind, being that last time the two of you had ever been physically intimate. Both your ships had been in a port in the East Blue at the same time. He had tried to have an honest conversation with you alone then. Because he’d never wanted to do something that serious over the phone.

But you’d wanted to go drinking instead, and he’d gotten all the more frustrated. Culminating in bending you over in the bathroom of the bar as he’d used himself up again inside of you.

He’d still wanted you so fully and he’d hated it. Because he’d seen your own anger and hurt. Drunk as you’d been, wanting his attention and affection even in the aftermath. 

He didn’t enable you further to give it that night though as he’d only refastened his pants and helped you straighten your skirt before making sure you made it back to your ship safely.

You were never ready to listen to him. And you’d probably cried that night. He’d stayed awake the entire time on his own ship, waiting by his snail.

Surely he’d thought you’d call cursing and fussing by then. That you’d finally break up with him and wake up to what you were really doing to yourself.

But it was so much worse than he’d ever believed.

Because the next time he’d seen you had finally been in Mariejois. And he couldn’t wait any longer by then. He’d prepared to say what you wouldn’t and cut you loose. 

And he’d known you wouldn’t handle it well. Tashigi had followed him to the courtyard, worrying as always. But Smoker had felt a rare dread in himself that morning.

Much like he did today.

You’d been using him to feel something. And he’d let you, until the day he couldn’t anymore.

It’d hurt like hell.

And it still hurt because he knew you’d learned nothing even as many times as he’d tried to show you. 

You’d pour yourself into every goddamn other thing but actually saving yourself. Chiefly your career and your shitty taste in men, himself included. 

You didn’t trust yourself to deserve better. You didn’t know your real worth. And now the absolute worst fucking candidate Smoker could ever think of had to have learned this about you too.

Smoker had done his damndest to make you take flight.

And all you’d done was double back right into the strings of the next man in waiting. 

One that wasn’t a man at all, but a demon to be beaten back before he broke your wings entirely.

But did you want Doflamingo to lose when it came to you? That was a question Smoker still couldn’t answer either. Despite all his bluster, defending you so doggedly before his own crew.

All he could really do would be to try and wake you one more time. 

And hope that this would finally be enough to be different somehow. That you would want to be free instead of just holding tighter to the chains you’d already made in your own mind.

The ones Doflamingo surely kept tightening once he had found them.

Hell itself couldn’t have dreamed of a worse combination than the two of you.

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

Author’s note: I’m pretty sure that in canon Law is the only person ever shown knowing of Rosinante’s devil fruit ability. For purposes of this story, I’m assuming some of the marines Rosi served with ended up also knowing. And Doflamingo dug up that information after his death, bothered by just how much else his brother may have been hiding from him. I didn’t want to spoil Doffy’s “are you or aren’t you a witch?” pool trick by posting this note at the beginning. 🫣

[sarawritestories]

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

[clownyclaushoe]

art the clown x reader 🔞 | i taste blood and it's turned into an obsession series

part two | bruises on both my knees for you

part one | part three | part four

reader sucks art's cock 😫 | i planned on also including reader getting railed by art, but this was getting really long so i think there'll now be a part three for that 🙈😓 chapter title is from bad guy by billie eyelash (sorry i couldn't help myself 😄 i'm a fan of miss eilish 😌) cause yet again i could only think to use the most obvious lyrics since we're dealing with a blowjob 😂😂

---

you were still dazed from the two orgasms art had given you as you stood, determined to reciprocate to the mysterious clown that turned your life upside down. you had wanted to suck his cock for way too long, the ache present in the back of your mind every moment spent with and without him. it had only worsened since you had seen naked a few weeks ago when you both returned from the day's antics. he'd immediately stripped down in order to clean his costume, revealing he was wearing nothing underneath.

art didn't feel things such as modesty - and to fair, he didn't have a reason to considering the length of his dick. the sight instantly made you wet, your pussy throbbing and clenching around nothing, wishing it was wrapped around his girth. you had to tear your gaze away, wondering how art would've reacted had he noticed your staring, though he seemed not to.

the visual aid only added to your fantasies. you'd spent countless nights at your apartment using your bullet vibrator while imagining art fucking you. there were moments while you were in the throes of pleasure, it seemed art could see you, as if powered by the supernatural forces surrounding him - a telepathic bond created between you two where art, wherever he was, whatever he was doing, could see you, could hear you calling his name; and you felt his intense leering eyes, could clearly envision the way his mouth set with a smirk as he took in the sight of you making yourself fall apart every time.

the thought of him watching you intensified each sensation, sending sparks of ecstasy throughout your body, moaning and whining for him, begging him to finally take you however he wanted, willing to give yourself to him for his (and your own) pleasure.

would he have stopped whatever nefarious actions he was in the middle of to jerk off? what little you did know about art, you knew at some time in his existence, he was a just mere man - mortal and fallible as everyone else. maybe that human yet primal part of him remained, that was interested in a good fuck, in coming so hard until his balls were emptied, drained dry of every drop of cum.

you wanted so badly for him to use your mouth and pussy as his own personal fucktoys, needy little cumdumps waiting impatiently for him to spill his hot loads of cum. and with his enthusiasm at your suggestion of returning the flavor earlier, as well as his large, hard cock bulging against his pants, it seemed he felt the same.

you walked around him, unzipping his costume and watching him tug it down, revealing again the expense of skin you dreamed of touching, basking in the sight of his large but lanky body. he kicked off his large clown shoes and tossed aside the costume. your fingers gazed over his back, his skin unusually warm, making you wonder if that was a result of being an underling for the evil that resurrected him, the man coming back as a demon heated by the very flames of hell.

you stepped to face him, touch moving along his smooth chest. you could swear you felt him shiver under your touch; you were curious how long it had been since someone had touched him like this, with gentleness, consideration, and possibly even love.

it seemed unbelievable you could get such a reaction from this beast that brought terror and fear to nearly everyone that crossed his path.

your hand trailed down to wrap tightly around his cock, stroking him, intently watching the shifts in his expression, his eyes slowly blinking closed, the twitch of his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"you need my mouth wrapped around your thick clown cock, hmm?" you drop to your knees, suckling at the flushed, swollen head, flickering your eyes up to watch his head fall back, mouth opening with a silent moan.

"though i like it sweet sometimes" you twist your hand over the ridge of the head, tonguing precum from the slit. "i expected you to be rougher with me, art." you sink down halfway, loving the weight of him in your mouth, heavy on your tongue. you drag your teeth over his shaft as you pull back, something you'd been careful not to do with past boyfriends and hook-ups, but you knew art would like it. and he seemed to as indicated by the dominating way he put his hands on your head, keeping you still.

you grabbed under his balls, taking his shaft all the way this time, nose pressing against his pelvis as his hold on your head tightened. his hips moved, thrusting his thick cock forward and back in your mouth. you blinked back tears, trying to relax your throat, mouth widening as you fought against your gag reflex, chorus of "guh-guh-guh" sounds filling the otherwise quiet room. you were determined to make him come harder than he ever has.

he continued like that for what felt like minutes until his grip mercilessly loosened, allowing you to pull off with a gasp to catch your breath. you palmed over the slit, stroking him quickly, motion slick from your saliva and his precum. you stared up at him, noticing his hat was lopsided on his head. you giggled to yourself, kissing the slit, and down the underside.

"fuck, your big clown cock is so hot, artie."

art chuckled silently, his body jostling, clearly smug with the effect he had on you, as if the two times he'd made you squirt weren't enough justification for him to be self-satisfied with his abilities and attributes.

you take his swollen balls into your mouth, sucking hard, continuing to stroke him fast, that slick slapping of skin-on-skin you'd always adored filling your ears. your free hand moved to his trembling belly, signaling he was close. you went back to bobbing around on his dick until he spilt in your mouth, pulsing fat hot streaks of cum down your throat, shaft jerking repeatedly as you milked it of every drop, until his dick began to soften. all the while you watched as his mouth opened into a wide teeth bearing grin, almost appearing like he was taunting you. the next time you touched yourself you knew thinking of that expression would push you over the edge.

you sighed as you pulled off, pleased with yourself, especially seeing the way his cock was already hardening again. it seemed it was going to be a long night. you stood, turning to lean on art's work bench, pushing your ass out and swaying it teasingly from side to side impatiently.

"i need your clown cock in my pussy, NOW."

---

another cliffhanger, sorry! 🙈

hope all enjoyed! 🖤❤🖤❤

[emilykaldwen]

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!

[phan3145]

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.”

No

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.”

[riririnnnn]

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.

[hyuneskkami]

03 ✦ I think i’m addicted to the title ‘you and me’ ! ༄.°

𝒽wang hyunjin x f!reader

masterlist . . . ✰

𓆩♡𓆪 𝒶n : my favourite chapter by far 🤭 kind of a fluffy chapter! def the longest in the series till rn too (I hate writing long chapters, please save me 🙏); anyway. the time has finally come fr! here’s your the ultimate climax chapter <333

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌arnings + tags : mention of kissing , hand holding , talking about being a bottom/top , hands around neck , light neck biting (twice) , y/n trying to internally best-friend-zone hyunjin but it doesn’t work , oblivious idiots in love ;

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌c : 1.05k

DAY #03 . . .

days merged into one another because all I did was go to school and prep school, nothing more and nothing less.

I internally even sobbed, realising that I hadn’t read any of my books for the past six months.

we got our test scores back an hour ago, leaving the results of a bet looming over my head. a bet I made with hyunjin. a bet, whose loser had to kiss someone.

I bet that hyunjin would score higher than I would, and he bet the opposite. loser has to kiss anyone the winner picks.

except, we weren’t serious about the consequences because he had gotten out of a pretty serious relationship just a couple of months ago, and I was… well, I hadn’t had my first kiss yet.

instead of reminding each other of the bet, hyunjin and I were holding hands under the table—which we did quite often because he said my hands were cold and he was ‘warming them up’—when, one of the days preceding halloween, the topic of being a ‘bottom’ or a ‘top’ came up in the class.

“I think you’d be a… bottom,” hyunjin whispered to me.

“duh,” I rolled my eyes.

“why? you like when the other person does all the work for you, don’tcha?”

“well, yeah,” I said, shrugging.

the conversation quickly moved on to what our type was.

“she needs to be as mentally unwell as I am,” hyunjin said. “and have the same sense of humour, too. a little shorter than me, and smart. like, book-smart as hell. oh, hopefully someone who goes to the same prep school so we could see each other a lot, you know?”

I nodded, thinking of any of the girls in our class who fit the criteria, but failed. I even tried to go out of the way and mentally scrolled through a list of girls from other prep school classes, and still turnd up with nothing.

“y/n, what about you?” he nudged my arm.

“mmm, obviously mentally unhinged, because if not, it’d be boring if they didn’t match my freak, right? also, they better be ready to hear out all the freaky fantasies i’ve collected after being a book girl for so many years. the list is unbelievably long,” I said, half-laughing. “I don’t really mind if they’re younger or older than I am, but I would never date anyone shorter than me.”

he laughed and nodded his head at me, his eyes crinkling. I was honoured to be one of the few people who saw this version of his smile—the kind that reaches his eyes.

classes ended earlier than usual—at 7:50, instead of 8:00 p.m., which is still relaxing—so we spent more time in the park near my house together, before hyunjin could leave.

“come on, i’ll walk you home. it’s getting a bit late,” he said, jumping up from his swing, and extending his hand.

I took it without a second thought, and we talked about everything that happened in our classes at school as we kept walking.

“oh my god,” I groaned, looking at the ‘out of service! sorry for the inconvenience!’ sign taped to the elevator. ugh.

“let’s go,” he said, happy to convert me to his staircase-is-better-than-elevators agenda, pulling me up the stairs immediately.

trailing behind him, I asked, suddenly curious, “what led you to conclude the fact that i’d be a bottom?”

when we reached the third floor, he waited a beat before pulling me towards the wall. he pushed me against it gently, and slowly wrapped his fingers around my throat, towering over me and staring down into my eyes. I looked away to the side in embarrassment, as my cheeks flushed.

a second later, he let go. “the fact that you liked that, i’m pretty sure, is proof enough, don’tcha think?”

I mumbled a ‘whatever’, and we kept walking up the stairs. from the corner of my eyes, I could see his mouth still moving, continuing conversation, but my mind kept straying to his lips. and his nose. and his eyes. oh my god, he was beautiful.

“remember our deal about letting me bite you?” he asked suddenly. I nodded. I always bit his finger to annoy him (as I did to my other friends, as well) and he bit back a remark of ‘you’re just begging for me to bite you too, huh?’ to which I cockily remember replying, ‘try it’.

I pulled up the sleeve of my jacket and pushed my hand towards him, assuming he’d bite my hand like I did to him, and get it over with.

instead, he pulled me by my outstretched hand towards the wall again. his hands rested around my neck and tilted my face to my side. he gently nipped at my neck, and I laughed softly.

“tickles,” I mumbled.

best friends, I reminded myself.

he let go, and we walked up another floor to reach mine.

before I could wave to him, he asked, “want another on the other side?”

I quietly took small steps towards him, and his warm fingers found their home on my cheek, tilting my face away slowly. he bit down on my other side for a lot longer than the first time.

I held in a whimper, this time.

best friends.

I was pressed in between the wall and his body. I plopped my head down onto his chest, trying to calm down my racing heart.

best friends, right?

we were both smiling a little and his hand rested against my heart.

“got that heart beating so fast, all for me?” he smirked. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes.

best friends, I had to keep reminding myself.

I mumbled a ‘good night, hyune,’ to him and walked out of the stairwell. he let me go, knowing my parents would get mad at me if I got home even a minute later than I was supposed to.

he smiled, wishing me a good night and walking down the stairs again.

the cheeky little bastard.

I continued cursing him out in my mind, as I unlaced my shoes and stepped into my house. still scolding him internally for nothing, I tried to calm down my racing heart and shaking legs.

best friends aren’t supposed to have this kind of effect on each other… right?

prev < m.list > next

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[justheblueberry]

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.

[burnednotburied]

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!)

----------------------------------------------------------------

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.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

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.

----------------------------------------------------------------

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.

----------------------------------------------------------------

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.

----------------------------------------------------------------

“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-oblivious-writer]

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.”

“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

[roseghoul26]

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. 

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.

“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.

[akingdomscrypt]

Make a Mercy Out of Me

Part Five

Pairing : König x male reader (slow burn)

Word Count : ~6.75k

Summary : time to put those skills of yours to the test. and König definitely has a thing for size differences

Warnings : none? don't think. Maybe a slight dissociative state briefly. Very brief.

A/n : working on a few other chapters for this series at the moment too, dk when those will be posted tho. Also didn't know what to title this ch, so that'll probably change.

---"a test: p1"---

Without that looming feeling of betrayal lingering at the forefront of your mind, your thoughts have been a lot more clear lately. You're able to return to your normal self; to analyze your situation and puzzle out the best way to handle it.

This wasn't any average operation, not often did they send soldiers like you so far from the Nest. Perhaps this meant your past transgressions had finally been forgiven; that they no longer held them over your head, suffocating you with the palms of guilt clamped tightly over your mouth.

And with that fog finally lifted, you began to plot.

A switch seemed to have flipped in the other soldiers ever since you had chosen to come back to them, instead of choosing the obvious way out and abandoning them back at that train wreck of an operation.

You were still under intense supervision, always a shadow hovering over your shoulder, and you were only granted access to a few areas of the compound, but it was better. It showed some level of trust, or maybe not trust, but a common ground laid between you and the other five.

A mutual understanding of, though no one was overjoyed by it, this was the only viable option.

You'd been allowed a shower, even, now dressed in an everyday, military-esque outfit. Sure, it was.. a little big on you, but they hadn't had your size, and it was nothing a belt fastened snug around your waist couldn't fix. Though it was certainly nothing like what you used to wear; somewhere in your mind, a feeling of.. longing.. for your old home festers.

Comforted only by the idea that you would someday make it back there. Alive.

Your injuries had been healing well, too. No longer limping so much when you walk; gaining a bit more mobility in your shoulder. Your bandages were cleaned and inspected everyday—courtesy of König. And, all around, you were treated fairly well.

None of them had even hinted at torture, especially none of the kind you had been trained to endure, though you were certain it was likely to have been a topic at some point. As you were pretty sure people who took prisoners didn't also let them wander around their base.

You had never seen any of the captured prey leave in the same state they had come; not that any of that was your concern. You were just a soldier, a pawn, and that part of the operation wasn't any of your business.

It wasn't only König who was in charge of your person, though the man was your main babysitter, sometimes it was one of the other three. But that only really happened when the big man himself had other duties to attend to.

The only one who never watched over you was the captain, their leader. You hardly even saw the man walking around, and you assumed the guy was likely just busy taking care of bigger shit than you.

It wasn't easy to gain the- well, perhaps not friendship, but you were on better terms with the rest of the team.

What was easy happened to be picking up on each of their mannerisms and speech patterns, figuring out who favored who the most, and becoming that person around them. For example, the way you acted with Soap was different to how you behaved around Gaz, and so on.

König was more difficult, or rather, König saw more of you—the real you—than of what was probably in your best interest. You weren't sure what it was, but there was something that made it more.. difficult to put on that one-man show for him.

While the giant fit in with the team, there was a little something there, between them. You'd say a rift, but that was too strong. They watched over him the same way they looked over each other, but there was still something there. You were probably right to assume König was a recent member, while the others had most likely known each other for several years longer.

That curious little part of you, that often is what had gotten you in trouble so much in your younger years, rose its head at the string left dangling in front of you once more. You wanted needed to understand what made up each member of the team, who they were, what made them tick. Weaknesses and strengths, the do's and don'ts.

That was the assignment.

But when it came to König? There was something more. An itch you couldn't quite scratch, something constantly nagging at the back of your skull. Urging you to dig deeper, to take a better look. To find out everything.

The big and small. The information you needed to gather for Viktória, yes, but more. The little things they didn't need to know. The ones you could hoard and keep all to yourself. Could wrap up in a neat little box with a bow, then put that box in a safe that only you held the key to.

You just needed to come up with a way to pick the meat off his skeleton and suck the marrow from his bones without having the favor of his own claws and teeth turned on you.

“You are much more.. pleasant, when you are quiet.” König voices from where he sits on the bench beside you, the sound pulling you from your own, far more peaceful, thoughts.

You snap your head up to face him, but the man doesn't even glance up from where he's sharpening one of his blades. This one a more ornate piece, marginally different from any you've seen him holster on his person. You doubt the pretty little thing even needs to be sharpened, likely never even used; you file that curiosity away for a later date.

You had been staring up at the sky, admiring the cloudless sky, a soft, muted blue, almost grey, stretching for as far as the eye could see—which meant a lot, coming from you. It has been a while since you have last been able to simply sit and enjoy the comforts of the natural world- all abruptly ripped away by the giant, irritating babysitter to your right.

Your eyes narrow, staring at him a few prolonged seconds later before giving an annoyed huff and returning to the sky above. Winter was settling in now, the trees barren, the earth below dry and cracked. All other vegetation was gradually becoming yellow-toned and dormant as the days passed.

You were not planning on indulging in.. whatever the man was trying to goad you into, but you just couldn't seem to keep your mouth shut around him. Unable to help yourself as you grumble a low, “there is nothing to talk about.”

“That so?” König must've finally looked away from his knife, and you can almost feel that familiar, intense gaze burning into the side of your masked face. “You barely scraped past death twice recently, one would think you had much more to say.”

“Just.. lucky, I suppose.” You grit out, one word in particular leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as it was dragged past your teeth. Surely there was nothing lucky about having one's hands bathed in the blood of a dear friend. Frowning, you look back at König once more, “thought you didn't want me to talk?”

“Is just strange, is all,” the man shrugs, “you were in the blast zone of not one, but two bombs, and survived.”

You scoff, “where are you going with this, König?”

“Only curious.” He assures. “Once is a little weird, but passable. But twice..? It just makes a man wonder. Not to mention the instances of before we found you..”

The only reason you were allowed outside happened to be thanks to the man seated next to you, it is for that reason alone you don't rip his throat out for disrupting this scarce opportunity of peace—or at least your fucked up definition of it.

“If you have something to say. Say it.”

What was with all this lead up? Couldn't he just spit it out already? This was getting boring. Fast.

“Don't waste our time with this whole,” you wave your hand at him vaguely. “‘Say everything but what you mean’ thing you are doing.”

The others must have decided that you could not possibly escape with the big guy saddled up beside you—even though, up until now, he had not been paying an ounce of attention to you. You, too, had few doubts that König could easily wrangle you.. considering the events leading up to now.

Not that you planned on leaving anyway, not when you had only recently regained your purpose.

“Why you?”

That causes your thoughts to come to an abrupt halt, opening and closing your mouth a few times, brows furrowing as you ask a suspicious, “sorry?”

“Why you?” König wonders aloud once more, as if saying it twice is going to magically make it make more sense. He must notice your confusion, because he grunts and expands on the inquiry.

“We thought we were tracking a new entity when the first trail we caught of you went cold, but then we noticed a pattern.” He says. “Every single hit they made, both fatal and not, was in a city or country you had previously been in.”

You frown, favoring to keep your mouth shut this time around and listen.

“Then we noticed something far more intriguing. Slowly but surely, with every hit they made,” Keeping the knife in hand, König holds up both forefingers. Slowly bringing them together as he spoke. “They got closer and closer to where you had last left a body.”

Finally, his fingertips touch, and the man looks down at you. “Until the most recent hit, which was right beneath you. Truth be told, our original goal wasn't to get you, we had not even been tracking you at that point. That was until we got tipped off that you may be there, and with the bombings lining up so perfectly, it was worth a shot.”

He puts his hands down, resuming his previous position. Looking at you, those intense, oh-so-curious blues once again aimed and focused on you. Something in your body twinges, but it's not injury related, so you opt to ignore it.

“So all of you are under the assumption that I am somehow involved?”

König appears to think on it for a moment before deciding on his reply. “Well.. yes and no.”

“At first we had the idea that maybe you and them were working together, maybe they were a sort of “clean up” crew. Someone to provide distraction while you slipped through our fingers. But after this more recent attack.. with how close it had been to you, we are now leaning more into the idea that you are the.. target.”

“The target?” It makes sense, when you think about it. When it had happened, you had thought it had been König's team, trying to flush you out or something; which worked, but also made their job harder to a degree. Besides, aren't these ones supposed to limit civilian casualties?

“Ja, the target,” König says. “No one in their right mind would willingly put one of their own in such danger like that. The point of this hit, after looking at the finer details, was to kill you, and no one else. It does make us wonder how they knew you'd be there, at that time, in that specific spot.”

It made you curious too, and a bit confused. If someone had been after you, the others would have known. Someone would have pulled you off duty and back to the Nest, they wouldn't have left you to wander blindly, to walk into traps that they were aware of.

Though, you suppose, it did make for a great distraction while you fled the crime scene. Not that you needed the help.

Viktória had mentioned that they had intended for you to get caught, that that had been the goal of sending you there in the first place. But she had also let slip that, whatever damage you had taken, had simply been collateral, and she had also seemed surprised that you had survived.

At the time you assumed that the point was for you to die, for your thread to be severed, another loose end tidied up with a big red bow on top. But your handler had seemed so damn relieved when you answered the call, which led you to believe the bombing was not on their part.

If not your own organization pulling the strings, not König's team, then who, or what, was behind all of this?

You get cut out of your thoughts by a relatively new, but familiar, voice shouting at the top of their lungs. Or maybe that was just your enhanced hearing.

“König! König’s sidekick!” Soap calls as he makes his way over, the noise sharp enough to make you wince. The newcomer greets König with a nod and pulls your attention with a heavy, but probably not malicious, kick to your boot.

“Captain wants us to test yer skills, runt,” you glare up at him at the nickname, scowling behind your mask. There's no real heat behind it, and you didn't exactly hate it, but you felt the need to put on a show as if you did. You and Soap got along decently, despite you still, technically, being an enemy.

…and you weren't that small..

The other men around you were just unnecessarily large.

König doesn't appear surprised when you glance over at him, though that veil covering his face doesn't assist you in deciphering his feelings much. So you assume he already knew about this.

“C'mon you two, up,” König is already packing up his knife and sharpening tools, so you figure this is unavoidable. “Ghost and Gaz are already there, we're just waitin’ on you two rascals. So enough ‘a this weird bondin’ yer doin’ and lets goooo!”

With that Soap turns and is on his way, leaving König to presumably know where to go because you sure as fuck don't. There are only a few places you are allowed to go, and their version of a training sector definitely isn't one of them. Until now.

It's been a few weeks since you've last been able to freely move and keep up with your self-assigned, intensive training routine. One you usually do in the comfort of a rundown hotel room or in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the calm, steadying atmosphere of trees and soil.

Given your healing injuries and lack of recent practice, you doubt that you'll be at your top performance during.. whatever this is. The others likely don't even expect you to fare much above average, given the current state of your body, but there's still a part of you that feels the need to prove yourself.

Even if they currently had no idea what your given status was. They didn't know you as P-107, they knew you only as Mouse.

It was time they knew what they were really dealing with; all those years of training and experimentation finally out on display.

To show them what it truly means to be a Predator such as yourself.

König and you arrive shortly after Soap presumably does, the latter already chatting away with Skull Guy™ and Gaz. They all turn to you when König and you enter.

“Sergeant,” Ghost nods to König, then narrows his eyes at you, “Mouse.”

You tip your head slightly in greeting, feeling oddly exposed with them all staring at you like this.

“Stop intimidating the poor bloke and get on with it, Lt,” Soap huffs, nudging Ghost's arm with his elbow.

Ghost doesn't seem to pay Soap any mind, still locked in you with a certain look in his eyes that you could only describe as distaste, despite not knowing much about the lieutenant.

That little staring contest goes on between you two for a few prolonged moments longer before the man eventually just grunts a low, barely audible sound and moves on.

“A’right, runt,” seemed as though Soap wasn't the only one privy to calling you that. Great. “Seein’ how this has become long-term for now, we need to make sure you can keep up in the field. Now, König and Garrick said you performed decently on that last op, up until the very end, so this is just to get a feel for where you'll place on the team temporarily.”

You briefly wonder what they would do with you after this was over—if you didn't already have a plan to betray them first, at least.

“Go ahead and get warmed up. We regroup in ten.”

You may be on a bit of a time crunch, but you take your time enjoying the stretch and slight burn of your muscles after having not used them to their full capacity for what is nearing almost a month now.

As you prepare your body for whatever they are about to put you through, that familiar calm, silent headspace that always greets you in times like this, begins to settle over your mind like a blanket.

The other's, apart from Ghost himself, take the time to get their own little warm ups in, and all too soon the lieutenant is calling you back.

“First we will be testing how well you can hold your own against each of us, starting with Sergeants Garrick, MacTavish, and König, then finally myself, understood?”

You nod in place of a verbal response, feeling as though your mouth itself has been sewn shut. Another sensation that always seems to accompany this mindset, turning you more into a humanoid creature than an actual person. Something that appears and feels like a human, but acts nothing like one.

You will not disappoint Her, nor your handler, not again, not after what you did all those years ago. You have something to prove, and you will not be outmatched by a few nobodies such as themselves.

“Good. First up, Sergeant Garrick.” You had been standing a little apart from the group, and Gaz steps out from the pack with a nod to you before making his way to the large mats set out not too far from where the rest stood. “After you get through each of us, we'll move on to the agility course outside. Unless you're too tired, then we'll go ahead and move that to tomorrow.”

Your legs carry you over to join Gaz near the blue mats, Ghost's words background noise as all your focus pinpoints on the prey man before you. Gaze locked solely on him, categorizing every miniscule movement Gaz makes, analyzing his stature and running various predictions as to what moves he could possibly make.

Some part of your brain registers that Ghost is still speaking somewhere to your right, yet not a single word he says breaks through to your consciousness until that countdown, and subsequent, “Go.” rings clear. Then you're on the move.

This is the same man who had rammed the blunt end of a gun against the back of your skull; the only member of the team who had been fast enough to not only keep pace, but he was quick enough to get an advantage over you. You, a man who has been trained to deal with matters far worse than this your entire life.

Gaz had caught you in a bad state back then; delirious from blood loss and exhaustion, and even then you had almost escaped. You were better than that, stronger than they all thought you were.

You act first and hit hard. Past experience has taught you how quick your opponent is on his feet, and you will not be beat again.

It's over faster than it started; meeting in the middle, followed by seamlessly ducking under Gaz's arms when he reaches for you. A quick pivot of your right foot and an attack from the back.

Using your weight and the momentum carrying your body, it's easy to bring him down. Barreling into him from behind and latching on—hands on his shoulders and heels digging into his hips—, but jumping off right before the other lands.

A small huff of air is all the noise Gaz makes as he comes face first with the foam mat below, just barely getting his hands in front of himself before his face can make contact with the floor.

But it's not over. Your prey opponent isn't immobilized yet. He's still an active threat.

You don't give him a chance to recover; don't risk the possibility of him getting back up and giving you any trouble. In a split second you're on his back again, trapping his forearms together in both hands—curse these men for being buff as fuck—and pressing them uncomfortablly high to his upper back. Just shy of dislocating both shoulders if Gaz struggles too hard, and the man beneath you seems to know this. Relenting into a defeated limp with a slow exhale.

You're used to your prey giving you more of a fight, familiar with the grapple for control and venomous spats that comes with a situation like this, but that doesn't come. And the man beneath you isn't prey like all the others had been. Yet.

That realization shocks your system and with a sharp inhale you release your grip, rolling off Gaz and standing upright in one smooth motion. You don't look down at the other as you reach out a hand, offering to help him up, surprised when he takes it.

“Seems I underestimated you, eh?” Gaz’s voice breaks through your thoughts, the tone reads as friendly, if a little out of breath. And with the help of your hand, he's standing up straight beside you. “You were pretty out of it back then, so I guess I shouldn't be too surprised.”

With a friendly pat on the shoulder from a heavy hand, the man takes his leave to stand by the others. Soap is up next.

Gaz had broken you out of that mindset briefly, but now that the stakes were up once more, it quickly flooded back in. Jaw set, eyes locked on your new opponent.

He's just barely shorter than Gaz, and definitely the most visually muscled out of the group in comparison to his size.

You go through the motions again, take stock of how Soap holds himself—right foot slightly out further than the other, posture held firm but fluid enough to absorb any impact that may happen head on—, the little tells you can pick out here and there.

Now that Soap has seen you against Gaz, they all have, you can't use the same strategy on him. You have to recoup and adapt, take him by surprise.

Your strategy with Gaz had been shock and speed, with this one you just want to avoid being caught. Once trapped in that cage of muscle there would be no other out beside lowly moves that, likely, wouldn't pass in front of this team.

As you assume they held some sort of defensive attitude towards their lower halves, not much of a concern for you. You could handle pain, have had much worse, and were fully sterilized. So that wasn't a problem either.

By the time Ghost once again commands you to begin, you easily hop into defense.

You two circle each other, neither taking the first strike but wound tight and ready to spring into action at the first hint of movement.

Soap makes the first move, lashing out with a fist coming up on your left. A hit you just barely doge at the last moment with a quick hop away.

Then it's circling again, a length of time that goes on far too long for the impatient man in front of you. Always so eager to jump in head first, you've noticed.

You have the upper hand for the most part, dodging and weaving whenever Soap strikes, trying to wear him down. Looking for a weak point. But by now you both are beginning to grow impatient, all of your muscles tensed and coiled to attack.

Slowly but surely, you begin to rush, circling tighter and tighter, gradually closing in on your opponent.

But you should know better than anyone else; nothing else is more unpredictable than a cornered animal.

Which is why the sudden launch your way, thick arms wound tight around your torso, locking in your own arms, restricting you, shouldn't have been a surprise.

Given the shocked yelp you let out, it definitely was.

The tackle sends you both rolling into the group, Soap's arms stiff and an unbreakable force securing you in place.

And that is when the panic sets in. That's when you give fully into nothing but the pure instinct that had been drilled into you. Wiggling and struggling against him, making it as difficult as possible for your enemy to keep a sturdy hold on you.

Grappling and heavy breathing as you two roll around on the floor, neither holding the upper hand until you manage to knock an elbow into the side of his head. His hold slackens just the slightest, but it's enough for you to break free and squirm away.

Only to quickly return.

Springing into his back before he has the opportunity to roll over, but even with both hands, you know you wouldn't be able to hold his arms securely. Unable to hold him down the same way you had with Gaz, you come up with the next best option.

Strangulation.

Or, not really. If this was a proper fight, you'd have cut off his air and snapped his neck. But that's not what this is and you have to settle for squishing his head in one of your arms while the other hand steadies yourself on the mat below. His arms trapped beneath your knees.

You hold him there for a good few seconds, tightening your arm whenever he tries to move.

3..

4..

5..

And that's time. One call from Ghost and you release the sergeant. Rolling off him similarly to how you had after your fight with Gaz, albeit a little slower than last time. And very pointedly ignoring the dull ache in your mostly healed wounds.

Panting softly beneath your mask, you do the same as you had done to Gaz, holding your hand out to help the other man up. That hazy mindset takes a moment longer to dissipate this time.

Soap takes your hand and pulls himself up with a grunt, releasing your hand with an energized, “Woo! Looks like you've got some fight in ya after all, runt!”

You shake your head at his playful demeanor, but only you know about the secret smile beneath the cloth.

Still primed for your next fight, you stand there, waiting, as Soap takes his own leave back to stand between Ghost and Gaz.

“O’right.” Ghost calls, nodding in your direction. “Let's take a quick five, then it's back to the mats, yeah?”

Giving your own signal of acknowledgment, the tension in your shoulders lessens slightly, that background irritation of your injuries returning with a vengeance.

You stretched your arms high above your head, releasing with a heavy sigh before walking over to where the others are.

Two down, two more to go. But, for now, a break. Some time to prepare yourself before facing off with the next two.

Soap had been a struggle, the only reason you got away with Gaz was by surprise, how would you fare against the other, much bigger, members of the team?

__

Fuckfuckfuck.

König hadn't cared for the thought much yesterday, when Ghost had brought the topic up with him. Had asked if he thought you were ready for something this intense. And given how you had gone into the field with them not too long ago, König has assumed it would be fine.

And it was.

You didn't seem to have much of a struggle, at all, really. So why the hell was König's mind having- having not so.. great thoughts.

Thoughts that centered around you specifically. And how you looked when sparring against his teammates. Of course.

You were still his enemy, technically; simply one that shared a mutual goal with them at the moment. And when the time came, they would cut their losses.

This was supposed to be professional. Just you and his team, one ending in mind. A plan set in stone.

The feeling König got when he let the idea of you squirming beneath him fester was, decidedly, not of the professional variety.

Your speed with Gaz had been impressive, and König had tried to focus on that. On logic and fact, that your skills were on par with the team. That you were a valuable tool to be used.

How you acted with Soaps was even better—that glazed over, near feral look in your eyes..—, then it was over, and with it came the realization that he was up next.

It wasn't that König didn't think he could take you on.. because of course he could! You may be fast, but he was much bigger, and definitely stronger. Had proved as much when he had lifted you up by only the arm without any struggle all those weeks ago.

So it was definitely not about physical capabilities. No.

It was the places his mind drifted to when concerning you; when wondering just how much of him you could take—andtakeandtakeandtake—before you broke. Before you shattered beneath him—and let König put you back together again.

He wasn't sure he was thinking about sparring anymore.

A five minute break, five minutes to get his ducks straight and in order. To remind himself just what this was; a test, and you were simply a means to an end.

König's ducks were so, so far out of line, and now his five minutes are up. And now you're by the mat. And now he is too. And now Ghost is giving him a weird fucking look. Verdammt!

You don't look any more phased than you had when up against Gaz or Soap; so to say, you didn't look like you gave a single fuck. As if all of this was no problem at all for you.

You were just staring at him. From past experience, that was already enough in itself to unwound König in record speed.

König isn't thinking when Ghost calls out the command to begin once again, all of his attention focused in solely on you, and only you.

He saw you narrowly escape that man from back in that little town, was there when you somehow managed to hear a damn ticking time bomb that König himself couldn't hear even when standing right next to it, and now he had seen you defeat not one, but two of his teammates—which.. should probably- definitely concern them all just a bit. So, surely, he should have some sort of advantage here.

König has seen you in action, but you have yet to witness him. He wasn't going to let those intruding thoughts from before get to him; he was going to do his damn job and be done with it.

He just had to touch you first.

But, see, that was another problem, he didn't want to. Which was odd, considering just how much he's been touching you since you two met.

This was.. different, and König chooses to willfully ignore the teasing his team has put him through as an explanation for his odd behavior. As he could say, with definite, absolute certainty, that their suggestions—stupid ideas, inklings of something deeper than what should exist between reluctant allies—were completely and utterly false. It was just jokes, just friendly banter amongst teammates.

There was not an ounce of truth to it.

A sudden burst of pain on his left flank shocks König out of his thoughts and he hops back at the same time that you return to circle him once more. It wasn't a complex move, and had been a hit he could have easily dodged if he hadn't been distracted. You had only caught him off guard because he was stuck in his thoughts-

Ah. The team was going to give him hell for this later.

The next hit you swing his way König seamlessly avoids with a smooth step to the side, returning with a jab of his own. Aiming straight for a heavy strike to the abdomen. Not too hard, he's not really trying to hurt you, but he also wants to get this over as quickly as he can. The longer he's in this mock arena with you, the more time he spends so close to you, the greater the opportunity his mind has to spiral.

The hit lands and you stumble, the breath forced out of your lungs, and now is the perfect time to tackle you and end this right here and now- but you don't react as you should.

You recover quickly, getting back into position, gaze still locked in him.

What.

That's not how the human body works, König would know. He's done this hundreds of times before; the body has dozens of weak points that are easy to exploit. A mean punch to one of those areas should've been a quick take down for someone of your stature, one that left you gasping for air; leaving just enough time for König to restrain you.

While König is busy trying to figure out the logistics of whatever the fuck that was, his feet moving on their own, you're going in for another hit, but this time he catches on. At the last moment he steps aside, not giving you the opportunity to back out, flipping around and slinging an arm around your waist.

König wastes no time, throwing you to the ground, with probably more force than necessary, and jumping on you. He can't let you get up, can't let you recover again. No. He has to end this.

Of course, you don't make that easy for him, squirming and flailing beneath him whilst he struggles to get all of your limbs under control. Grunting now and again with every thud of your fist and kick of your boot.

And König swears on his own sanity, that you fucking growl at him, and in the moment his mind produces a picture of a tiny snarl on that face of yours. A small huff of laughter escapes him at the idea, a traitorous part of him finding the image cute.

It would be so much easier if you would just stop moving. You don't grant him that generosity.

It's becoming quite the.. problem. To focus on anything but your body beneath his, almost entirely forgetting that you two are supposed to be sparring at the moment. And that you aren't alone right now.

God help him, König hopes they don't read too much into this interaction as well.

He doesn't have to see it from an outsider's point of view to know this doesn't look entirely.. professional right about now. His larger body positioned above yours, your legs locked around his waist, the heels of your boots digging into his back- trying to flip him, König knows. Hands scrabbling at his chest, the way you're squirming and bucking beneath him like a feral bull.. it all would read very alternatively in an entirely different situation.

Fuck him—or you, he isn't picky—, König's breathing is growing a bit heavier as time wears on, his body a little warmer. Both could be written off as exertion from the struggle, but König knows damn well they aren't.

“Stop fucking moving,” he grunts, low enough for only you too hear. The last thing he needs is for the rest of his team to catch into what's going on—if they haven't already. “You've lost, it's over. Just accept it already.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” you snarl right back, wiggling one of the arms he'd finally caught out of his hold once more.

Everyone is smaller than him, it's nothing new- so why does it feel so much different with you?

You're his enemy, König should be having entirely contrasting feelings on this situation. He shouldn't be.. shouldn't be enjoying how much smaller than him you are, how perfectly you fit underneath his hulking form.

All the people König has ever met have been small compared to him, but none of them have made him want- want. That's it. Yearning. Wanting. For things he refuses to name even to himself, in the safety of his own mind.

Admitting it would mean defeat, in a whole different context. And König isn't ready for that just yet. Ever.

He needs an out, and König gives it no thought before simply releasing his firm holding and dropping down onto you like a dozen sacks of potatoes. Or maybe more, it's not like he'd know his own body weight in potatoes.

“Mmph-!” Crushing you beneath him, there's no way you could escape that. Why hadn't König thought of it before? Could've saved himself so, so much turmoil.

“Time.” Ghost says, and König could've sworn he detected a hint of amusement in that gruff tone. He's never going to live this down..

He pulls himself off of you, shaking himself out before simply reaching down and grabbing you by the arm. Yanking you up and placing you on your feet, only letting go once he's sure you're steady.

You don't say anything, merely glaring at him, but König ignores it. Stomping away back to his place beside Ghost.

“Distracted, König?” The Brit says as soon as he's close enough. And, yep, that's definitely humor in his lieutenant's voice. Damn him.

“Shut up.” He scoffs, sending daggers Ghost's way with mental power alone.

“Wasn't sure if I could call time or give you two some privacy.” König was going to end him. Dishonorable discharge and such be damned, he was going to murder his lieutenant.

“Shut it.” He continues on his way, choosing to stand beside his fellow sargeants instead. Which he should've known would, also, be a bad idea.

Today was definitely not König's day.

“So,” Soap hums, his time casual but König can see that damned spark of impish glee in his eyes. “That how you treat all your “subjects of interest” or just him?”

Gaz doesn't add on, but König can tell he's enjoying this almost as much as Soap is.

“Shut it, Soap.”

“Think I ‘eard ya whisper somethin’ to him too, mind fillin’ us in?” Who is he kidding, Soap has never heeded his warnings. “Or is it just the runt yer keen on filling?”

König groans, Gaz trying his best to stifle his laugh.

“I don't know what you think you saw-”

“Oh, König, pal, we don't think we saw something. It was clear as day. Too bad Ghost called it, I wanted t’see how it all played out!”

“C'mon, Soap, you must be outta your mind,” Gaz cuts in, and for a moment he thinks the man will get Soap to drop the subject. “With that size difference? Don't think the poor little guy would make it out alive.”

König mentally jots down both of their names on the list he just made up after Ghost's first quip.

“Ha!” Soap laughs, nudging his partner in crime. “Good one, Gaz. But I rest my case, who said the runt would be on the bottom anyhow?”

König is out into a shocked silence, staring at the Scot wide-eyed, the tension only broken by Gaz’s bubbling laugh.

Letting out a deep breath, König grumbles, “I harbor a deep dislike for the both of you.” and is endlessly thankful he had decided to keep his hood on. It did well to hide the furious blush warming his face at the moment.

Drawing his attention away from the two idiots beside him, his gaze falls on you. Ghost is speaking, and despite knowing he won't be able to make anything out, König strains his ears to try and listen in.

It yields nothing, of course, but worth the try anyway. Ignoring whatever weirdness that hard sparked between the both of you during your fight, König was eager to see how this next one would play out.

Now it's time they put you up against The Ghost.

__

Masterpost | One | Two | Three | Four | Next

__

@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog @gloma08 @mikahrh @in-down @hauntedapplefarm @mello-life69 @unkn0wnd3ad @tayaisback @starre-eyes @gabbvr-dog @suhmie @lazyrel @spiritzofthedead @yeonpm @its-ares @k1ssesofdeath @ravagerdogz @embry-garrick-ravengard @the-spartan-himself @justacreamcheesesandwich @dilf-lvvr @tukus13 @literallyrousseau @olibird