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envy-of-the-apple · 5 months ago

Text

Rewound Infinitely

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Part one: Infinite Rewind

Synopsis: A decade later, Gojo has finally caught up with you. Weddings take a lot of planning.

Word Count: 8.6k

(Warnings: flashbacks to gore, not healthy trauma coping, thats all tho! pretty wholesome compared to last time)

Some things about him had changed within a decade, while others stayed the same.

Even taller than you last saw him. His hair has been styled, no longer ivory chaos. You can't see a single blemish or mark despite the decade of fighting curses. He's as flawless as the first day you met him. No glasses; the entirety of his blue keeps you still.

You've seen this Satoru before: Suguru's memories, with glassy eyes, ruffled ivory hair, and an empty expression. Seeing such beauty yourself when you're standing right in front of him, it's breathtaking.

Even the lights of Tokyo couldn't compare to him.

You say nothing. You can't. Your mouth is dry and pointless. You're not even sure where to even begin. In front of a God, your insecurities pile up all over again. Is he disappointed by you? How could you explain everything that you put him through? Your mouth opens, you think you're about to speak: an apology, a plea, anything-

"—You're late!"

His hands reach up to squish your cheeks together. It was so unexpected, you squeak.

And Gojo Satoru is pouting.

It's a wave. The ocean of anxiety, guilt, and fear crashes into the shore. You feel nothing but indignant rage at the brat who clearly hadn't matured one damn bit.

"I'm not late!" You hiss back. "If anything, you're the one who's late. I was—"

You're cut off by his laugh, light and happy.

He isn't offended by your outburst; he's overjoyed about it. His cheeks are dabbed with pink, and his lips are so wide that he's showing his teeth. Your anger wanes when he pulls you into his chest, arms circling around you. You can smell his cologne when he buries his face into your hair.

"There you are. Finally." He melts into you like butter. "I missed you, Greeny."

His voice is soft, quiet, and sincere. You can't do anything but hug him back, allowing him to sink.

"I missed you, too." You whisper.

He hums. Apart from the wind, it's quiet. He's clinging onto you as though he's afraid once he lets go, you'll disappear forever. His behavior is justified. You were constantly meddling with his life before whisking away. Just this once, you allow him to keep you within his reach, letting the cat catch the canary.

"This is sweet 'n all. But we're actually getting late." He mutters. "Also, we gotta do something about your clothes."

"Hm?"

One moment, you're atop the Tokyo Skybridge; the next, you're standing in an upscale boutique.

Satoru skips away from you. Meanwhile, you're frozen, brain scrambling to catch up with what happened. Teleport. He can teleport now.

"Mr. Gojo, sir." A voice calls. An older woman smiles at him.

He gives her a casual wave before gesturing over to you. "Mind giving this one a dress? It's a black-tie event. We don't have a budget."

The woman turns to you with a smile. "Of course, sir."

What?

Dazed, you pliantly follow the woman into the back of the boutique. Her hold on you is gentle as she ushers you through the hall with one hand on either side of your shoulders. When you look back, Satoru is waving with a wide grin. The door shuts behind you.

"Do you have any preferences?"

You turn back to the woman. She's still smiling. You can't tell if it's genuine or customer service. Perhaps both.

Did Satoru not like what you're wearing? When you look down, it makes sense. Your time on the tower wasn't kind to your hair, not to mention your clothes. This morning, you'd just thrown on the first thing you saw.

This morning. That felt like centuries ago.

She's still waiting. You give a trepid smile.

"Anything," you say, "anything as long as it's cheap. I'm not exactly swimming in cash."

She gives a confused look. "Oh, but Mr. Gojo is paying, isn't he?"

Was he? You had no idea what was happening, much less what he had just said. She returns to her usual smile.

"If you have nothing in mind, let's see here..."

Some time later, your usual clothing was removed and replaced by something satin and long. It was a pretty dress that fell right to your feet. A set of women also flitted in and worked on your hair and face, putting everything back in your face so that you looked more human and less cryptid.

"What do you think?" She asks, looking at you through that mirror.

Pretty, you looked pretty. But when you looked closer, no amount of make-up could remove that look in your eyes.

When you step back out, Satoru is waiting with a tapping foot.

"Finally!" He exclaims, standing up. He doesn't acknowledge the dress, probably because he's seen himself in better. "Thanks, Hana. Okay, let's go."

"Go?" You prod. "Go where? You—you still haven't told me what you're even doing—"

It's no use. He grabs your hand, instantly warping you away from the boutique.

You're outside. There's people everywhere. In the distance, you can see a crystal glass dome. The sun was still in the sky, which was strange because you remembered watching a sunset not too long ago, unless you weren't in Japan anymore. To prove it to yourself, you check your phone location. Yakima, Washington. What the fuck.

Was this some type of torture, him flitting you from continent to continent, all in a ploy to punish you for something? You give him a pleading look.

"Just tell me what's going on—"

"Nuh-uh." He grins. "It's a surprise! Besides, you'll figure it out soon enough. Now, I gotta' go. Stay here, be good, and find the panda!"

And then he's gone.

You always knew he was insane, but this is ridiculous, even for him. To leave you in the middle of nowhere, that asshole.

There is no one you recognize in the crowd, but they are all walking towards the dome, so you meekly follow. What did he say? Find the panda? It had to be a metaphor of some kind, or perhaps there was a panda statue you needed to wait under.

And then you see a panda on two legs walking and talking with a group of teenagers.

Seriously, what else did you expect?

Feeling like you've just aged five years, you approach the group. Including the animal, there's five. They all look like 14-16 years old. You feel like you're in high school all over again when they glance over at you. The girl looks particularly unimpressed.

"Hi." You look at the panda. Maybe it's a really good costume because no one else looks shocked. "Satoru said I should find you...?"

One of them seems to get the code. The one with black hair and puppy eyes perks up.

"Ah! Are you 'Greeny'?" Did he tell everyone about that nickname? Didn't you tell him it was supposed to be a secret? Though, it doesn't really matter anymore.

"It's not my actual name." You say before introducing yourself.

He gives a nod. "Okkutso Yuta." He bows. What a polite kid. "This is my friend, Inumaki Toge."

The kid with half his face under his scarf gives a wave. You smile.

"Just Maki." The girl steps in before she gives you a once-over. "I like your dress."

"Oh, thank you!" You say happily, "I love yours as well!"

She looks away, but you have a feeling she has a hard time taking compliments.

"I'm Panda." The panda fucking says, and no, it isn't a costume, but you're too tired to ask at this point. "Nice to finally meet you."

When the final kid says nothing, Panda reaches over and wraps a furry hand around his shoulder.

"And this is Fushiguro Megumi! He's shy." Panda says cheerily. The boy flusters under his weight.

"Get off." Fushiguro gripes.

"Don't mind him." Maki rolls her eyes. "He's just throwing a tantrum because his sister couldn't make it, and he's gonna have to socialize with people instead of hiding behind her."

Fushiguro glares, but he doesn't respond to that. He just gives you a nod, and you decide these are good kids. At the very least, they're all way better than that brat Satoru.

"So, why are we waiting out here?" You ask, peering around.

"The doors haven't opened, yet," Okkutso kindly relays, "we're just waiting out here until everything is set up."

"If they're taking this long, then they should at least ask for help." Maki crosses her arms. "We've been waiting out here for at least thirty minutes."

"At least there's food." Panda tries to assuage.

"Salmon," says Inumaki.

"They're serving salmon out here?" You give him an incredulous look and he waves his arms around.

"Bonito flakes." Inumaki says. Okkutso tries to come to his rescue.

"Inumaki can't speak anything but food items because of his curse-" Maki quickly yanks him down by his collar frantically. Fushiguro is whispering something in his ear. You watch them go back and forth before it clicks.

"Does it have something to do with his technique?" You ask, curiously.

They stop squabbling.

"Oh, our bad. Sorry 'bout that." Panda gives a sheepish grin. "We didn't think you'd know about jujutsu sorcery 'cause...well. Your cursed energy is really low."

"Super low." Maki agrees.

"Salmon."

"Even lower than Maki's." That earns Panda a punch from her.

"Thank you," you dryly say, before you turn back to the building.

"What's going on in that place anyway?"

They all give you an odd look before they look at each other. Did you say something wrong?

"Did Gojo-sensei not tell you anything?" Okkotsu asks.

You allow yourself to leak some bitterness. "Satoru just dropped me on the sidewalk before teleporting away. He never tells me anything.

"That sounds like him." Panda nods.

"Idiot," Maki says.

"Such an idiot," Fushiguro says, and now you feel bad for Satoru.

"Our sensei's getting married today." Okkutso supplies. He points at the dome.

You don't get why you didn't realize it sooner. You knew these kids, at least Okkutso, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki. They all showed up on the very last day Geto Suguru died. Okkutso, in particular, had fought and defeated Suguru.

These were Gojo Satoru's students.

You think back to the last time you saw Satoru. He didn't look like a groom, but he's an eccentric guy. You wondered what kind of person would put up with him for the rest of their lives. You pitied them.

"Oh." You frown. "His wedding? I—I would have at least brought a gift."

"I don't think he'd mind," Panda said, "besides, you didn't even know!"

You still felt a bit guilty.

"We didn't bring anything either," Fushiguro states, and it helps just a tiny bit.

"When the ceremony begins, you can sit with us," Okkutso tells you, "we're supposed to keep an eye on you, anyway."

"You're not talking to a dog." Maki grunts.

"Oh no I—I didn't mean to be offensive!" Okkutso backtracks. "It's just—well, Gojo-sensei's been talking about you for a while, and we want to make sure everything goes smoothly and we were all really excited to meet you so—"

He keeps rambling like that until Inumaki pats his shoulder. You laugh, amused.

"I wasn't offended or anything." You tell him before his words sink in. "Wait, Satoru talks about me?"

"All the time." Maki responds, an edge to her voice. "'Greeny this', 'Greeny that'."

"We usually tune him out when he gets like that," Panda says, "honestly, we didn't even think you were real until just now."

"I always thought 'Greeny' was an inside joke Gojo-sensei and Haibara-sensei had," Okkotsu admits.

Something warm bubbles in your stomach.

"So," Fushiguro speaks, "how do you know Gojo, anyway?"

You didn't know the story Gojo told them so you simply keep it vague.

"I knew him as a kid."

It's Panda who gets the most excited about this.

"Really? What was he like as a teenager?"

"A brat." You instantly respond, and then you think a little more. "But I don't think that ever changed."

They ask you a couple more questions about Gojo's high school days. You oblige, thinking this as payback for how Satoru dropped you here without saying anything. You don't know how long you spend out there, airing out Gojo's younger days while his students get increasingly giggly.

Okkotsu is the one who notices the crowd is moving.

"I think they opened the doors." He smiles. "Let's go, everyone."

You follow behind Maki, admiring the architecture. It's a grand building. Sparkling crystal glass lets the sunlight bleed in. The decoration was something else entirely. Small white flowers adorn the chandelier, and they cascade down the edges. Ice sculptures of angels greeted the guests. Live music was already playing. Satoru knows how to plan a wedding.

Maki finds you all seats. You sit next to her. Fushiguro follows you. Okkutso, Inumaki, and Panda take the seats behind you. While you wait for the guests to settle down, you pass your time, waiting for the students to bicker with one another. From your assumption, it looked as though Maki, Panda, and occasionally Inumaki butted heads with each other. Okkutso often served as the timid referee, trying to get everyone to calm down, which almost always made things worse. Fushiguro just elected to ignore everything.

"Are they always like this?" You lean over to whisper to him. Fushiguro gives a tired nod.

"Every. Single. Day." He's saying this from experience, but at least you get a show.

Everyone settles down eventually. The kids grow quiet when the music starts to swell. The indoor lights dim. It's starting.

You've never been to a wedding this grand before. There was a live orchestra. Women and men were dressed in baby blue, gently strumming away their cellos, violins, and violas.

It's how you miss Satoru's entrance. He's already standing on the altar by the time you look back. He's changed into something more formal. The suit and green tie fit him. A perfectly put-together beauty. As though he can sense your stare, he catches your eye and winks.

But why was he already up there? Shouldn't he be—

"Sensei's coming!" Okkotsu whisper-yells. Inumaki hushes him.

Everyone turns to face the door. You do, too.

Your heart stops when you see him.

It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool.

You don't think you're breathing when you watch him walk down the aisle. The music is low, barely loud enough to hide the click of his heels. He takes his rightful place beside Satoru, his best man. Satoru gives him a nudge, and Suguru shakes his head fondly.

Everyone turns to see Shoko's entrance. You should too, but you keep staring at him. How much he's changed since high school. How much he's changed since he waltzed onstage wearing a priest's outfit, filled with nothing but empty hatred for those he viewed as weak.

But he's not wearing that twisted monk costume. His eyes aren't dull and dead and bitter. There's no sickly faux smile on his lips.

Today, Suguru looks like the happiest man on Earth.

His eyes are wide and eager and sparkling purple beauties. He's 27, but he looks younger. The lines of exhaustion and heartbreak aren't so prominent. And you—and you—

You just sit there, watching as Shoko walks up to the altar, watching as they stand as bride and groom. His daughters, adorned in pretty blue dresses, stand right behind him, smiling so hard you're sure it hurts. The priest speaks. They say their vows. You can't hear a single word. It's like you're behind a glass wall, and you can see him, but you can't feel him.

When they kiss, everything comes back. The crowd celebrates. Satoru ruffles Himeno's hair. Nanako smiles wider. Behind you, Inumaki and Panda sniffles. Okkotsu hands them a tissue.

"It’s pretty." Maki comments. Fushiguro gives a hum of agreement.

ⴵ

Satoru finds you and the kids when you're waiting for the reception to start.

He appears behind you with a cheery, "And how are my lovely students holding up?" You almost spill your drink in shock.

"Sensei!" Okkotsu chirps. "Where's Geto-sensei and Ieiri-sensei?"

"Shoko's around; Suguru's taking a break," Gojo answers with a grin. "If you don't mind me, I'll be stealing this one for a sec."

He doesn't wait for an answer, steering you away by your shoulders. You look behind you. Panda waves. Fushiguro just looks even more upset. You wave back at them regardless.

"I can't believe you put your students out on babysitting duty." You tell him. "And what's with this wedding? There's no alcohol anywhere." To make your point, you take another sip of your apple juice.

"We have kids here. Kinda' have to make it alcohol-free," Satoru says.

"The bartender could ID them." You suggest.

"You think teens who fight curses daily wouldn't figure out how to get around that?" He grins. You frown at his frustratingly good response.

“What’d you think of them?”

“Hm?”

“The kids.” He urges. “What’d you think?”

Your brows scrunch. You have no idea what he means by that. Eventually, you take a breath.

“I like how...close they are.” You eventually say. “The bond they share. They care. I think each one of them will be good sorcerers.”

He’s silent, and you think you might have misunderstood his question.

“I learned that from you,” Satoru says, “keeping them together, making sure they can grow, get stronger, together. You were always so insistent on that, back then. I’m glad you were. It was one of the best things about you.”

You stare at him. Really stare. You’ve never heard him sound so genuine, so sincere before. You look into his crystal-blue eyes, wide and earnest. Part of you wants to take a picture, so you could keep it forever.

Eventually, Gojo successfully drags you to a less crowded area of the party. He looks around.

"Hm, he should be around here somewhere...?" Satoru hums to himself.

"Who?" You ask. That question answers itself.

Haibara Yu is waiting a little ways ahead. By now, the sun was starting to set. His brown hair turned gold. Gojo eagerly hurries you forward as he calls out to him. You stumble, still lost at what you're seeing.

"Guess who I brought?" Gojo sweetly sings, Yu-Haibara, he hasn't let you call him Yu yet-tilts his head.

He smiles, confused. "Oh? Hello!" He says cheerily. "Who's this?" He asks to Gojo.

"Guess," Gojo says.

Haibara stares at you, and you decide to give him a hint.

"Brocolli head?"

He gapes. It's almost the same reaction he had last time. Last time, when you had to convince him to kill you so you could go back in time to save Satoru.

"No way." He gasps. "Greeny?"

He doesn't remember. He wouldn't, why would he? Still, it's nice to see the innocence on his face, rather than the pain you saw last time. Right before he snapped your neck.

You think he was crying the last time you two saw each other.

In this timeline, Haibara is hugging you so tightly you think your head's about to explode.

"It's really you?" Haibara says, but his bear hug muffles his words. "“—I—I can’t believe it? It’s actually you! I thought I’d never see you again even though Satoru said we'd see you again one day, and—and then suddenly you pop up outta’ nowhere—not that I’m complaining— but—”

"Haibara." You plead. "You're suffocating me."

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry." He lets you go, and your lungs inflate again. "I—I'm just so happy! And—and you're a girl!" He says it like it's the most surprising thing about this whole revelation. Maybe it is.

Satoru is always needy for attention and whines as always.

"Wait, you two came up with a code word?" He complains. "That's not fair. We never did that."

"I mean, it was Haibara's idea." You point out. "You should be smarter next time."

That makes him frown even more. You laugh.

"Yu." Haibara suddenly says.

You turn to him.

"My friends call me Yu."

It's nice to know that no matter what timeline you're in, Yu will always remain stagnant.

"Okay, lover boy," Gojo says with a not-so playful bite, "keep your eye on this one for me, okay? Gotta' go do more best man shit."

Satoru's gone once again. You look at Yu.

"He's been running around since I got here." You tell him. "Does that man ever rest?"

"Nope." Haibara grins, before taking your arm. "Follow me; you should meet a couple of people."

He leads you through the crowd. You spot the teens moping about out of the corner of your eye. Panda and Inumaki seem to be in a push-up competition. Maki is egging them on. You wisely decide not to disturb them.

Yu drops your hand to wave to someone. There's no need for any kind of introduction for these people.

Riko and Misato Kuroi smile at you first. Miss Kuroi's aged beautifully since you last saw her. Wispy silver hair knitted seamlessly into brown strands. She never got that chance to grow gray hairs last time. You're staring so much it might be rude.

"Yu?" Riko asks and you think you're about to break because they know each other. "Who's this?"

"Uh, this-" Haibara chokes before looking at your awkwardly. Right, he doesn't know your actual name.

Come to think of it, Satoru doesn't know either. He never bothered to ask too. Probably on purpose. Ass.

You smile and politely introduce yourself. It takes everything within you not to scream and hug them both because in this timeline, they don't know you. They never did.

But you can change that now.

"Hello!" Riko beams. "I'm Kuroi Riko, but just Riko is fine! And this is my mom: Kuroi Misato."

She says that so plainly, like that had always been her name, like Miss Kuroi had always been her mother. You wonder how long it took for those two realities to become her norm. Or maybe it hardly took time at all.

"It's wonderful to meet you." Miss Kuroi states before she tilts her head. "May I ask how you know the couple?"

Haibara jumps in for you. "Um—actually, this is Satoru's date!" He fumbles.

You do a double-take. No, you technically weren't Satoru's date. But you technically entered the wedding with him. And he was the one who 'invited' you. Fuck, you were the brat's date. Damn it.

"Ah." Nanami cuts in for the first time. "So, you're the one Gojo won't shut up about."

His accusation sounds like Maki's, but less harsh. You wonder if he has a favorite student.

Nanami looks the most different from his high school counterpart. A new haircut, less slouchy, more tall and refined. He blinks at you, slow and calculating.

Sheepishly, you laugh. "Yeah...that's me....sorry."

"Don't be rude, Kento."

Ieiri arrives with a soft smile and painted features. She's changed out of her glowing gown, sticking to something small yet perfectly elegant: a short white dress that curls ever so slightly at the ends. Riko's the first to hug her, ecstatic. Ieiri hugs her back, too, because they've become friends in this timeline. The circles under her eyes are less prominent. Her smile looks more real. This isn't the timeline where she's had to bury her friend; it's the timeline she's allowed to marry him.

"Congratulations," you say politely once everyone is done cooing over her. She smiles at you, the way a stranger would.

Then, her head tilts.

"Sorry," she hesitates, "do we know each other? You...feel familiar somehow."

Ieiri was the first person you met when you activated your technique and returned to the past for the first time. She was the one who calmed you down, kept you grounded. In a way, you owed a lot to her.

Looking at her, you can see why Suguru kept her cigarettes in his pocket.

You shrug. "I must have one of those faces."

The attention turns back to her, her beautiful dress, pure and white and beautiful. You feel Haibara stare at you. You shake your head at him. It wasn't the time. Maybe it never will be.

"This really is a beautiful wedding," Mistato says when the conversation reaches a pleasant lull, "I can't imagine how much it cost."

She shrugged.

"Probably a fortune, but I let Satoru deal with the numbers."

Misato looks confused, and Ieiri laughs.

"He paid for everything." She gestures to the venue. "Suguru and I didn't have to fork over a single cent. It's the least he could do for being a pain in the ass for 12 years."

Damn, you knew he was rich, but you didn't know he was rich rich. Maybe you should consider being nicer to him. If you ask politely, perhaps you could get him to pay off your car loans.

"I'll get him to pay for my wedding too." Riko proudly says.

"He'd probably do it, too." Ieiri nodded along. "He offered, just like that. The only thing he was hellbent on was the date."

"The date?" You echo. Ieiri shrugs, messing with her laced sleeves.

"Said it absolutely needed to be on December 24th. Something about spirituality. I never listened to that guy's rants."

It comes to you immediately, but you're pushing it away. No way. Satoru wouldn't. There isn't a chance in Hell he would have convinced his friends to have the biggest day of their lives on the same day you were supposed to meet him.

No, of course, he would do that. Ass.

"So, how do you know Satoru?" Riko asks you. When she realized how rude it sounded, she backtracked. "I—I didn't mean anything by it! It's just...the guy only knows five people. When he spoke about bringing someone along, I thought he was joking."

"Same here," Nanami says. Haibara stifles a laugh, and you realize all of Satoru's friends think he's a loser.

Friends. Back then, he only had one of those.

"Um." You toss Haibara look. He shrugs. "We met a few years ago! But we just recently reconnected." That's close enough to the truth. Good enough.

You remember your blunder. You sympathetically look at Shoko.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't able to bring a gift," you say, "I was blindsided. Satoru barely gave me enough time to get ready."

You laugh, and you're hoping they laugh it off too. They don't, instead Shoko, Nanami, Riko, and Misato look at you. Then, they look at each other.

Nanami speaks first. He clears his throat.

"Did Satoru....abduct you?"

"What?"

"That sounds like him." Misato sighs, more exasperated than anything else.

Riko nods along with her. "We tried to teach him. Where did we go wrong?" she laments.

Haibara and Shoko laugh as you desperately try to defend your not-date date because he didn't actually kidnap you, but he did bring you here against your will and started dragging you along like some toy, but it's the context about that that matters. You wished they could've had a bit more faith in him. Poor Satoru.

It ends eventually. Ieiri excuses herself. Riko and Misato go too. You stay with Yu and Nanami, watching as they get into increasingly petty arguments. It’s hilarious how quickly Yu is able to bring the usually staunch and serious Nanami down to his level.

Sometime later, you find yourself roaming the balcony. The party roars on indoors, laughing, talking, cheering. It was chilly outside, you should go back in within a few minutes. You just needed a break from the action.

The sun had already gone down, by then. You were somewhere out in the country. The buildings sparsely dotted the horizon. There were no artificial lights. It meant the stars could shine as brightly as they wanted to, with no one to stop them.

You hadn’t seen Satoru in a while. You had no idea where he’d run off to. It didn’t matter; you knew he’d eventually pop out of a box to harass you again.

But now that you had space for yourself, you needed to think.

You rest your hands over the rail, looking up at the stars. There were so many out tonight.

You fixed the future. You changed everything. Does that mean you still needed to tell Satoru about the past timeline?

You promised him answers the next time you two met. You promised him an explanation. He waited ten years for that. You pinch at the fabric of the dress.

This future that you carefully built, crafted with your own hands. It’s delicate, a glass castle.

It’s justice, but did that make it right?

“Want one?”

The voice makes you jump.

He stares at you, leaning against the rail. Purple eyes, mirroring the starry sky.

You knew these eyes, for a while, they used to be yours.

You stare at him. Then, you stare at the cigarette in his inviting fingers.

Your fingers twitch.

“No—no, I’m fine.” You smile. “Actually, I’m trying to quit.”

“Ah.” Suguru says, lighting it up before bringing it to his lips. “Shouldn’t tempt you, then. Pardon, what’s your name?”

You can hear your heartbeat. It’s loud, right in your ear. You wonder if he can hear it too. Are his curses around? Can they smell it? Your blood? Are they still as ravenous as the last time, eager to tear and fester and eat—

“It’s Greeny,” you say, “you can call me Greeny. ”

He hums in approval.

“Geto Suguru,” he says, “though I’m pretty sure you already know that.” You both share a huff of laughter.

“My fiancé quit a few years ago.” Suguru starts, mentioning the cherry-red cigarette. “Thought I’d follow in her footsteps, but here I am.” He shrugs before he winces.

“Wife, sorry.” He corrects. “I still can’t believe it.”

The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more.

You smile at his tone. He sounded like that 12 years ago, when he was still just a kid. Full of soft wonder.

“I’m guessing you’ve been planning this for a long time?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Shoko did most of the work. This is all thanks to her, really. Unfortunately, I was too busy managing the school.”

“I heard you were a principal?” You prod.

Suguru nods, “Our current one recently retired. I’m trying to follow in his footsteps.”

You think of Principal Yaga, the one with sunglasses and a stern expression. He looks a lot like Nanami in some areas. But he acts more like Suguru than anyone you ever knew.

And you knew Suguru; you knew him as well as yourself.

The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru.

“I can tell you’re already making him proud,” you say, “I met your students. They’re good kids.”

He smiles, soft, gentle. Those used to be your smiles.

“They are, aren’t they?” He repeats back, “some of them had a rough beginning, but it all worked out somehow.” He hums. “I’m glad.”

His daughters, the ones standing beside him as he kissed his wife, wide eyes and even wider grins. They didn’t have the darkness in their faces. The bitterness. Like they did in the last timeline.

You were glad, too.

This death is a lot more painful than the others.

The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die.

You forgive Suguru.

“It sounds like you’ve had personal experience with that sort of thing.” When he looks at you, you quickly say. “Your eyes. I—I can see it. I’ve always been good at that sort of thing.” You knew Suguru. His eyes matched yours.

He doesn’t look offended. Suguru takes a minute, reaching up to his black locks. He removes the elastic, pretty black hair falls down his shoulders He’s grown it out since high school. It reaches his waist.

He eases himself back onto the rail, looking up at the stars. You follow.

“Yeah, I do,” he’s saying, “I think I know what it’s like being them at that age. Alone, isolated, slipping down a rock. Drowning, but no one can see it.” Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised.

“When I was younger...it was really hard. Some days, I was so full of hate and anger. The pain was a lot. Sometimes, I had this despicable idea that it was someone else’s fault I was like this. Someone innocent.” He laughs, bitter.

“And, on those days, I would often feel something.”

You look at him. Suguru doesn’t stare back, eyes lost in the stars.

“Sometimes, it’d be a voice. Other times a small nudge on my shoulders, pushing me in the right direction. Once, it was a hug, keeping me from doing something that would’ve changed my life forever. And it would be just a bit more bearable, like I wasn’t so alone.”

You can feel your heart in your throat. Your fingers grip the railing.

“What did you think it was?” You expect hate, disgust. You want to give yourself a reason.

You forgive Suguru.

He takes a moment, coming back from heaven. His eyes find yours.

“I’m not sure.” He admits. “I’m not religious, but I always liked to think of it as—”

An angel. A hand of God. A higher power. It doesn’t matter what Suguru said, you knew what he meant.

A part of you always wondered why Suguru would return to Jujutsu society, when he wanted nothing more than to run from it. You expected him to retire. Instead, he took the reins of the beast, wrangling it down. Now, you get why.

“That’s why you’re a teacher now,” you say, “so you could be the same thing for your students.”

He nods, and you think of Maki. You think of Okkutso. You think of Panda. You think of Fushiguro. You think of Inumaki. Suguru must have been there for Maki, even when her own family wasn’t. Suguru must have helped Okkutso control his technique, being the only one who could. Suguru, must have made these kids better than they ever possibly could’ve been. Fighting for them instead of against them.

“Sorry.” He blinks. “I—I didn’t mean to get so sentimental. It’s been years since I thought about my own highschool years.” He laughs, voice full.

“You’re just...really nice to talk to.” He hums. “I don’t think I can explain it but it’s...familiar somehow.”

You look at him. He’s older, but in some ways, he hasn’t really changed. Even now, when you look at him, you see a reflection of yourself.

“I can see why he likes you.”

“Who?” You ask when he brings you back from your thoughts.

“The idiot.” But he says it so affectionately, so lovingly, you can’t help but smile. “I saw him dragging you around earlier. Sorry about that. I would’ve stepped in but...” He trails off, thinking.

“It’s been a while since I saw him like that.”

You hadn’t noticed anything about Satoru. He smiled just as brightly as he did in highschool. Now, you wonder if this was the first time in a while Suguru had seen that side of him: carefree, no longer The Strongest.

It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.

You forgive Suguru.

“Are you and him…” he trails off.

“No.” You laugh. “No, I’m his….childhood friend. We just haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head. “How long has it been?”

You decide to be honest. “Ten or so years, give or take?”

He whistles.

“No wonder he’s bouncing around like a yipping puppy,” He says, and you can’t help but agree with the analogy.

“In any case.” He leans over the railing. His cigarette is down to its last embers. “I hope you stick around. A friend…I think he needs more of those more than anything.”

You stare at him. Those purple eyes. You can see what Shoko sees. You can see what Satoru saw all those timelines ago. They only ever saw the light, the gentleness, of Geto Suguru.

You are the only person in the world who knows him.

He’s killed people. He’s killed you. No matter how much logic or justification or pain was involved, the blood of the innocent is still sticky. It still drips across the pavement, scarring the sidewalk in red. It still hurts.

When Suguru would kill you, you’d force yourself to forgive him. You needed to die without regrets, because the pain of hatred builds up, you’ve seen it happen firsthand.

But now that you’re free, what Suguru did to you wasn't fair. Just because his innocence was taken away doesn’t give him the right to take the lives of others. It never gives anyone the right to murder. You keep telling yourself that this Suguru and that Suguru were different…but they weren’t. Not really. The look in their eyes matched perfectly.

He’d do it again, in the right conditions.

And yet.

You forgive Suguru.

You can’t judge him. If there is a God, maybe Suguru will have to pay for the crimes he committed all those timelines ago. You can’t save Suguru from that. But to you, the debt is paid.

Besides, you’re too tired to hate him. And you won’t allow yourself to fall into the same cycle he struggled to break free from.

You look into his eyes. Then, at his ring. You smile.

And that's enough.

“I will,” you say, “I will.”

Then, as two parts of a whole, the two of you stare at the stars for a little while longer.

ⴵ

The reception was nice. A fancy dinner, you can’t remember the last time you ate something. The speeches were beautiful, especially Shoko’s. You swore you saw Nanami shed a tear, but you never said anything about it.

You saw a glimpse of white hair in the crowd before the first dance began. Stunning music. The couple must have practiced for months. Bride and Groom, husband and wife, held hands and looked at each other like they were the only ones in the room.

Megumi stood beside you, watching Ieiri and Geto sway to the music. As though the kid could sense him, Megumi’s serene face sours. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when there’s a tap on your shoulder.

“Cute, huh?” Satoru starts, mentioning at the dance. “It didn’t look this put-together in the beginning. Shoko gave him a ton of bruises,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

You frown. “Shouldn’t you be doing something else than gossiping about your friends?”

“I am! I’m checking up on my son!” And then he turns to Fushiguru. “Megumi!”

“No.” Fushiguro instantly rebukes.

“Don’t mind him.” Satoru chides. “He’s going through an angst phase.” Fushiguro rolls his eyes, but he shifts just a tiny bit.

“Y’know, he was actually supposed to be the flower boy, but he refused. Such a shame, the pictures would’ve been something else.” Gojo sighed and now you’re convinced they aren’t father and son.

“That was never going to happen.” Fushiguro says, and as if he thinks you’re naive enough to believe Satoru, he glances at you. “Never.”

“Of course not.” You crack a smile.

You watch as Ieiri descends into a graceful spin, Geto taking the lead. When he tips her over, your eyes soften.

Gojo leans over; you can feel his breath in your ear.

“Next year.” He whispers. “For us, it’ll definetly be next year.”

You jerk away but he’s already skipping off, having the audacity to call out a cheerful ‘toodles’.

“What did he say?” Fushiguro questions.

That’s what you wanted to know, too, but you were so tired, and the night was so long, and you couldn’t bother to get out your Gojo translator and figure it out.

“The same stuff he always says. Nonsense.” You decide on. Fushiguro takes the answer.

“I don’t understand how he has all that energy.” You mutter, watching Satoru disappear through the crowd.

“I thought he’d get better with age, turns out I was wrong,” Fushiguro says.

“I wanted to ask,” you start, your eyes still on Ieiri and Geto, “how do you know Gojo? Aren’t you still in middle school?”

“Everyone knows Gojo. He’s pretty famous in the jujutsu world.” Fushiguro shrugs. “But personally...he’s my benefactor. Took me and my sister in when my parents left.”

You look at him. And you feel like an idiot.

He’s the spitting image of his father. Sharp cobalt eyes. Black hair. Fushiguro Toji is all over the young man.

Gojo Satoru, the one who killed the sorcerer killer, took care of his enemy’s children.

“What?” Fushiguro asks when you’re smiling

You shake your head. “No, no it’s nothing.”

Satoru told you that you’re the one who taught him about the importance of bonds. But you think he should take some of the credit too.

ⴵ

Eventually, everyone gets on the dancefloor.

It’s a mess. Absolute chaos. Panda and Inumaki are trying and failing to do the waltz. Maki and Okkuttso are lightly swaying to the music. They’ve managed to get Fushiguro up there too. Though, he doesn’t look extremely happy.

The adults are even worse. Apparently, the retired principal Yaga is a pretty good dancer. You think one of them found alcohol, because Haibara looks absolutely wasted. He’s swinging his arms around, almost hitting the other guests. Nanami is trying to get his attention, but the guy wants none of it. When Haibara catches your eye, he wildly waves in clear invitation.

You smile back, but you shake your head. You think he’s about to come up to you, but something else catches his eye, and he’s grinning at a very irrated-looking Iori.

You were sitting on a chair, just people-watching. It was a nice break from everything. To listen to the music, lightly tap your feet, play with the frill of your dress. You weren’t really in the mood to dance.

Besides, you weren’t technically invited here anyway. It’d be rude to just burst on the scene.

“There you are! Been looking all over for you!”

You don’t have to look over to see who it is. Satoru slumps down in a chair next to you.

“Greeny, you gotta’ do something about your cursed energy. It’s so weak. Like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Thanks,” you say dryly.

“Always happy to help.” Satoru beams, and then he glances over at the floor.

“We’re dancing after this song, by the way.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s so cute you think you have a choice, Greeny.”

You frown. “There’s no point in calling me Greeny anymore. Unless you still don’t know my name.”

“I do, but it doesn’t matter,” Satoru says arrogantly. “You’ll always be my Greeny to me.”

You roll your eyes. Even now, he’s a brat. You thought all these years would mellow him down just a tiny bit.

“So,” you start, “are you done with your ‘best man shit’?”

“Yup.” He announces. “Now, I can sit back and enjoy the show.”

You smile, but you can still feel the butterflies in your stomach. He’s been running around so far and it’s given you time. Now, that he’s free, it means you two have to talk.

And you aren’t sure if you truly want to.

You flex your fingers.

“Um, how have you—”

“Stop.” Satoru interrupts. “Let’s not make this awful, Greeny.”

You nod immediately, relaxing. His voice gets softer, after that.

“I’m glad you chose that color,” he says, “I was sorta’ hoping you would.”

You look down at the dress. A deep green. You hadn’t even thought about the color, the boutique lady had basically thrown it at you.

The shade of Satoru’s green tie matches your dress. You can feel your smile again. Typical.

“I’m glad I did too,” you honestly say. And then, you continue to fiddle with your fingers. Ultimately, you decide to just bite the bullet.

“I thought you’d be mad.” You finally say, words jittery and unfocused. “Angry at me for...for what I did.”

He’s silent, and you feared that it was all true. The laughs and the jabs were all a facade.

"I don’t think I was ever mad." He responds, staring into the crowd. "Hurt, yeah. Then, it faded into something that stung everytime I thought about it, and then...something else. And now, I know it's a waste to get mad because you're finally here now. With me."

His tone pitches upwards as he reaches over to painfully pinch your cheek.

"'Sides, I know you can't escape me anymore, Greeny," Satoru cheerfully says, "Now, I know your face, your name, and with little effort, I could probably find your address, your social security-"

"Okay! Okay!" You pull away, rubbing your cheek. Damn, he's scary. "Threat acknowledged."

"Good!" He straightens himself back up, and you find yourself slumping again.

“I am sorry, though,” you say, “for leaving like that. I...I always wished I could do that a bit differently. You deserved better.”

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t blame yourself for only doing what you could. It eats at you, Greeny. It really does.” He sighs, leaning forward in his chair.

“You deserved better too,” he says back, voice barely above the music, “I always had some regrets about those years. I thought I could’ve done more to help you, back then.”

There it was again: selfishness, the urge to do good to others while retaining that greed. You supposed you taught him that.

You put your face in your hands.

“Even though, you dragged me here against my will, I feel so guilty being here.” You complain, hoping it’ll lighten the mood. “You should apologize to everyone because I crashed the party.”

Satoru scoffs. “What are you talking about? Everyone loves you!” He exclaims. “Look, Yu’s ecstatic. Riko won’t stop gushing about you; you even have Nanami’s approval! I don’t even have that!” You roll your eyes, sinking back in your seat.

“Besides, you needed to come. You needed to see it.”

“See what?” You ask.

“This.” He points to the venue, the ballroom full of glittery whites and sparkles.

“Look around, Greeny. Look at all the people you saved.”

Haibara and Riko are dancing together. Two dead children finally had the chance to grow up. Misato speaks to Nanami. Beautiful gray hair, eyes that aren’t so tired. Shoko sparkling in her dress, and Geto—

The same day he was supposed to die, Suguru was getting married.

“Thank you.” When you look at him, Satoru is staring right at you. His sea eyes give everything and more.

“Thank you for saving all of us.”

Your heart skips, then just stops completely. You can’t cry, you won’t not here, not on such a happy day. But your eyes are stinging. And Satoru is turning blurry.

And then, like Satoru always does, he ruins the moment.

"Did you just fall for me a little?"

His head tilts. That same mischievous, irritating smile lights up on his face.

You relax, laughing out of disbelief. When you speak, your voice is barely scratchy. "You're so full of yourself; it's actually a little cute."

"You think I'm cute?"

"Did you hear anything else that I just said?"

"I heard you think I'm cute,” Satoru responds proudly, and you doubt he’d ever let you hear the end of it.

“And besides! Today is supposed to be a celebration for you too!” He exclaims.

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” Satoru says proudly, “you did it! You became a fully-fledged sorcerer. Considering your low CE, you might pass as grade four, but when I talk to our new principal, I’m sure he’ll make things right. Get ready to join be and him in the big leagues.”

You could read between the lines. Satoru wanted to tell everyone. You think a while ago, you might have agreed, but...

“Can...Can I quit being a sorcerer?” You ask. “I’m tired.”

He takes a second. Some of you wonders if he’ll try to talk you out of this. It’s more beneficial for him if you stay as an asset to the jujutsu world. How many people’s lives will be saved by a technique like yours? To be able to go back in time again and again and again. To die again and again and again.

“Someone once told me that it’s okay to be selfish every once in a while.” Satoru looks at you, eyes like lilies once again. “I won’t fault you for it. I don’t think anyone will.”

When you try to smile, it feels wobbly.

“That person sounds smart.”

“Nah.” He grins. “An idiot, actually. Way too oblivious.”

You laugh, despite the insult.

“Quit,” Satoru says when it’s quiet again, “do whatever you want. But...you can’t run away, okay? I won’t let you.”

It’s barely a touch. His hand reaches for your fingers. You’re the one who grabs it.

“I won’t.” You promise. “I won’t.”

He’s satisfied with that. You can tell when he squeezes your hand back.

You look at him, and you decide you won't tell Satoru what happened in the last timeline.

There's no point. It wouldn't do anything but shatter everything he worked so hard to make. Why would you break the glass when you could just add concrete, make it stronger? You saved everyone. A few white lies here and there just keep this future safe.

And you know this Satoru. If you told him, he'd carry that burden with you like the soldier he was. You don't want him to do that. You don't want him to have the same look you see in your own face. One last sacrifice.

When you come back, Satoru is shifting in his seat, uncrossing his legs.

“So...about that dance?”

“Ugh, fine.” You stand up. “One dance. And if you do anything embarrassing, I’m leaving.”

“Clearly, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” He grins, standing up himself.

He doesn’t release your hand for the rest of the night.

You don’t mind.

(When you disappear again, Maki’s the one who finds you.

By then, it’d been long into the night. Shoko and Suguru were already gone, off to their honeymoon in the Maldives. Riko, Misato, and most of the students were sleeping off the night. Maki, his most diligent student, was helping the remaining adults pack up the venue.

She’s dragging chairs away when she grunts in Satoru’ direction.

“By the way, your date’s sleeping outside.”

Ah, you were on the balcony. No wonder he couldn’t find you. Satoru needed to do something about your cursed energy. What’s the point of having six eyes when he can’t even find the one person who’s evaded him for a decade?

You’ve completely passed out. Slumped over on a chair, head bent at an angle that could not be comfortable. Satoru knows he should feel bad. He dragged you around the entire night like a ragdoll. This was partially his fault.

He can’t really blame himself, not when you were finally here.

It still feels like a dream. Being able to hear your voice, not Suguru’s, not Yu’s. Your touch. Your eyes. Your face. Your laugh. For years, he’s wondered what it sounded like.

Reality beat even his perfect daydreams.

Seeing you up there on the Tokyo Skytree. The wind pushing your hair back and forth. It was breathtaking.

Even the lights of Tokyo, couldn’t compare to you.

He leans down, lips at your ear, voice low because he’s too prideful to let anyone else hear, not even you.

“I know it’s too late, but you looked really pretty tonight.”

You say nothing, but you shift, murmur something in your sleep. It’s all he needs.

He ditches the clean up party, taking you within his arms. He thinks he says something to Yu, but Satoru doesn’t really care if he heard. Right now, he only has one priority.

Tonight, he’ll sleep on the hotel’s pull-out sofa while you snooze in the luxurious queen-sized bed. You’ll probably be mad in the morning, something about how you should’ve taken the couch, but he doesn’t mind your mindless acts of selflessness.

He’s waited a decade. He deserves to keep you.

And he knows you won’t fault him for being selfish one more time.)

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #slight yandere gojo #butnotrlly #time travel fix it #time travel #unrequited feelings #temporarily unrequited feelings #maybe #x reader #jjk fluff #just a bunch of closure rlly

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 27: Take Me Back To The Beginning

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty seven of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 13.3K (I tried to cut it down I promise 😭)

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy. Homelander is a freak AGAIN, A little bit of Oedipal Complex (It's Homelander the man is a walking Greek Tragedy), Graphic depiction of death, Dark thoughts, References to Past Trauma, Angst, Cursing, Sexual References, Family Problems- A LOT of family problems, Homophobic comment (It's Soldier Boy), Past Trauma, Death Mentioned, Blood mentioned. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/n: It's that time y'all! The final battle is finally here! This chapter was a doozy to write, there were so many things that needed to be wrapped up, but I really have loved writing this series and I really like how everything came together.

READER POV

The building is just as cold as you remember it, the hallways are silent and empty as if they'd been cleared for this exact moment as the three of you make your way into the depths of Vought Tower.

I wonder if Homelander was the one who did it, or if someone else realized what was coming.

There was an electricity in the air like the coming storm, rolling in front of Ben, Butcher, and you like a dark omen.

Homelander is going to get what is coming to him.

Any remorse you had for him left the moment that he took Lou. There was nothing human to save, nothing left to redeem, the only thing left was the sharpened, cruel creature that Vought created from your own flesh and blood.

And if you were his beginning, you might as well be his end.

Ben was walking beside you, any softness that you'd seen outside the building replaced by the cold calculating mask of Soldier Boy, you knew all too well, but this time you didn't fear his descent into the blaze, you reveled in it. For the first time in years, you were happy to see Soldier Boy again, and this time you knew that Ben was becoming this for you, for Lou, and for Rosemary.

You hoped that this time he wouldn't hold you back from doing what you needed to do as he had earlier. Though he did seem sorry for what happened while the two of you were outside, you weren't sure how eager he was to put it into practice.

Butcher seems to know where he is going, so you fall into step behind him, not concerned as to how Butcher knows exactly where he is headed. He stops outside a massive gilded door across from a rather exhaustive statue of the Seven craved from black marble.

The double doors that lead into the main conference room at Vought Tower are made to look intimidating, but you didn't feel anything but anger and fear. Not fear for yourself, but fear of what Homelander had done to Lou and to Rosemary.

Butcher pushes open the doors with one hand revealing a large room that lacks warmth. The last rays of the setting sun send honeyed light onto the black marble floors, dramatizing Homelander's stoic figure where he stands at the large floor to ceiling wall of windows at the opposite side of the room. His gaze is focused on the city below, like a proud emperor observing his kingdom and everything he owns.

He probably believes he does.

You think to yourself, eyes skating around the edges of the room looking for possible threats, but you don't see any. The wall to your left is lined with monitors and the wall to your right also has some, but instead holds a smaller pair of black double doors.

You didn’t know what kind of tricks Homelander had up his sleeve, but you were preparing yourself for the worst. Of the Seven teammates remaining he was the most formidable. You doubted that the Deep could do anything to you on dry land and you were more than happy to turn him into a tuna roll. You were a little worried about A-Train. He was fast enough to cause a problem, but you didn't know how much. Butcher had told you not to be worried about Hughie's girlfriend Starlight, mentioned that she wouldn’t side with Homelander and that she probably wouldn't be anywhere near Vought Tower. You figured that she'd probably gone to pick up Hughie from the gas station that Butcher had left him at, but you didn't know if she would come take down Homelander.

Honestly you were more worried that she would come for Ben. You'd seen her posts on social media proclaiming Soldier Boy as a terrorist and a villain, which meant that she probably wasn't your biggest fan either. You hoped that she was far away, you didn't want to kill someone who didn't deserve it or rather someone who lashed out against Ben or you because they didn't understand the whole situation.

Butcher also seemed unsure about who would be at Vought, mentioned something in passing about his old team that included the man you'd seen back at Herogasm, but you hadn't seen anyone in the building or sensed that anything unusual was about to happen other than your plan to rip out Homelander's spine and wear it around your neck like a fur boa.

"I remember the first time I stood here." Homelander says without turning around. You could see his pristine reflection in the glass, blonde hair perfectly styled and glowing in the last few wisps of sunlight. "I hadn't seen anything like New York City before, hadn't been around so many people in my entire life." His arms are crossed behind his back, the epitome of control. "They told me it was mine. That this was what I had been bred for my entire life." He glances over his shoulder at you. "I would have been willing to share it with you and dad."

"Where are Lou and Rosemary?" You keep your voice under control.

He ignores you and turns, eyes flicking from Butcher, to Ben, to you. "You are so beautiful. When I imagined what my mother would look like I never imagined someone like you. Maybe I imagined you looking a little more motherly." The feeling of his eyes tracing your figure makes your skin crawl. "But I can see why dad loves you so much. And of course why Noir was obsessed with you."

The mention of Noir makes your blood run cold. How did he know about that? Did Noir tell him?

That was another side of this whole situation that you had considered, you had no idea where Noir was. If he had stayed at the Tower or if he had cut and run when he heard that the rest of his team was being killed one by one. You hoped that it was the first option, trying to hunt him down and find him seemed inconvenient and you'd much rather just settle this now.

"Answer her question." Ben growls, the air around the two of you heating from Ben's newfound powers and the smell of ozone begins to float under your nose. He was trying to hold himself back from stepping in front of you and hiding you behind his body, that much was obvious. You could tell how much he hated how Homelander kept staring at you.

You did too. The guy is creepy enough, does he have to turn this into a Greek Tragedy? Did he see how things ended up for Oedipus?

Homelander only smiles, the same one he had back at Legend's, wide and with too much teeth. The smile of a predator before it catches it's prey, pretty until its teeth latch onto your throat.

He's very confident for someone who has no chance of taking down both of us. Then again, maybe he feels that way because he has the two people in the world who mean everything to me.

You strain your hearing to find Lou and Rosemary, but you can't hear them. There's a low buzz being projected through the building that makes it impossible for you to hear anything else.

Interesting that he's willing to handicap us even if it handicaps him as well.

"Hello William, still standing in my way and feeding them lies about me I see." Homelander tsks his finger as if Butcher is a child.

"Jealous that your dear old dad gets along better with me? Or maybe that your mother doesn't think that I'm as big a twat as you?" Butcher breezes with an easy smile.

Homelander's right eye twitches with Butcher's taunt.

"Sorry mate, does that make you angry? That your parents see me as the son they never had?" Butcher's smile grows.

You take this moment to skate your eyes around the room looking for any evidence of your granddaughter and daughter but you don't see any. Butcher was buying you time, but you didn't know how long it would take for Homelander to be done talking and you were ready to beat the location of your daughter and granddaughter out of him.

"Where are Lou and Rosemary?" Ben shouts again interrupting Butcher. "If you've hurt either of them I swear-"

"Why would I hurt my niece? I'm not a monster. She's fucking four years old." Homelander scoffs.

But hidden in his answer is the possibility that he hurt Rosemary, and it makes your blood run cold.

"We both know that you're capable of that." You respond coldly. "You thought nothing of using her as a human shield earlier."

Homelander presses a hand to his chest as if you've hurt him. "Why mother dearest, how could you say that about your only son?"

"Tell me where they are, and I will consider letting you live." You say without emotion.

Lie.

"There she is." Homelander smirks. "There's the woman I know and love. The one I met at Herogasm had so much ferocity, such rage, and pride. I think you try to hide her behind this. When you act pathetic and human." He gestures to you as if that explains things. "Because you're afraid to embrace it."

"You don't know me-"

"Well. The saying is, like father like son, but-" Homelander's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "The woman I met at Herogasm, she's something special, and exactly like me. Not to mention the woman who killed Stan is just as ferocious, and I'd like to talk to her."

"Keep pissing me off and you're gonna do a little more than talk to her."

Homelander chuckles. "Don't tease me." He has the audacity to wink.

"Don't you fucking look at her that way you sick fuck." Ben growls.

"Why? Aren't pretty things made to be worshipped?" His smirk grows. "And if I had someone like her I sure would worship her."

Ben lunges forward, to wipe the smirk off his face, but when you reach out and grab his arm, he stops. When he turns to look at you he looks like he's ready to snap Homelander in half, a fire blazing behind his eyes that you're not sure if it's because you held him back or because he's upset over what Homelander said.

With your eyes you try to say:

"You can rip him apart after he tells us where Lou and Rosemary are."

You're not sure Ben gets it, but he doesn't advance so you assume he got some form of that.

Deep down you were worried that Homelander had already handed them over to Vought or to the government for some kind of deal. It was an all consuming fear, because yes you would fight tooth and nail to get them back, but it wouldn't be easy if you had to fight the United States government to do it.

"Ashley." Homelander says, but when no one appears he roars the name again, with so much ferocity that it echoes off the walls of the round room, vibrating against the monitors, and into the hallway behind you.

A red-haired woman appears at the black double doors on the right side of the room, looking frazzled and pale. There are pieces of her hair stuck to her fashionable black pantsuit in clumps and she's wearing a pair of crimson heels that clack loudly against the marble floors. She's got a death grip on her phone so tight that you can hear the tension of her tendons in her hand.

You remember seeing her before in the background of an interview on t.v., but never paid much attention to her. Ben looks as confused as you do at her appearance, no doubt waiting for her to start lobbing fireballs or make heads explode, but instead she drags Lou through the doors behind her.

Lou looks the same as she did when Homelander took her, still wearing the same pink polka dot pajamas, except now she's holding the hand of a boy who looks maybe twelve years old with blondish-brown hair that hangs into his eyes that you're assuming is Ryan.

The woman, identified as Ashley disappears as suddenly as she appeared and slams the doors behind her.

Probably had the right idea. This entire room is about to become ground zero. Which is horrifying because now Lou is here.

The amount of relief you feel at the appearance of your granddaughter is overwhelming, fear of her being locked away somewhere evaporating as her eyes fall on you, wide and green.

"Lou." You breathe and cross the room to get to her, ignoring Homelander's gaze that follows your every move. You drop to your knees to give her a hug, but for the first time since you met her, she doesn't hug you back. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?” She's not smiling at you, she's frowning.

"Are you my grandma?"

The question makes you freeze for a moment. Obviously Homelander had told her the truth about everything and you didn't want to lie to her again. You knew this day would come, but you didn't think that she would find out this way. If anything Rosemary and you were going to tell her when she was old enough to understand that it wasn't something she should say in public.

You didn't look like a grandmother, nor did you think that anyone would believe Lou if she said it in public, but it would reveal that you were in fact Indigo.

Then again, we're probably past that. You frown at the thought, but it was true. There was no going back. You'd walked into Vought with no disguise in front of all the cameras and you certainly were going to leave your mark here tonight. You'd be lucky if Vought didn't run the story in the morning:

"Payback Strikes Back Against the Celebrated Seven"

Of course in that story everyone would conveniently forget that Ben and you were also beloved heroes, were also worshipped and elevated in society. Funny how things like that seem to be lost in translation.

"Yes." You reach up to push back her hair and she moves her head away, her dark hair slipping through your fingertips.

"Why did you lie? Lying is mean." She whispers, hurt flashing in her eyes. "Did you not want to be my grandma?" Lou looks down at her feet clad in a pair of teddy bear slippers.

"Oh sweetie." You sigh, tilting her chin up to look at you. "I did. I am. It was just easier this way-"

"Mommy says that lying is bad." Her green eyes are watery, voice quiet.

"I know. It is. But you have to understand it was a grown-up decision and we didn't want you to find out like this." This time she lets you brush her hair back from her face. "And it doesn't mean we love you any less."

Her eyes flick to Ben. Ben had followed you over, to make sure that Homelander didn't attack you when your back was turned.

"You're my grandpa?" Lou sniffles.

"Yeah." Ben forces a tight smile for Lou's sake, but you know that he's thinking that this isn't the place for this.

It isn't.

You could still feel Homelander's eyes against your back and you were trying to fight the shudder of disgust.

"Ryan say hello to your grandparents." Homelander calls from his position by the window, his voice proud and filled with humor.

"Hello." Ryan smiles, but its hesitant and you’re happy that he’s at least able to read the room. A skill that his father didn't seem to have.

"Hi." You smile back tightly, the same smile that Ben had moments ago.

Meeting Ryan made all of this worse. You hear Homelander's footsteps as he gets closer to you and Ben mirrors his movement to block Homelander narrowing his eyes. You weren't here for a family reunion, you were here to kill Homelander and get your family back, but the thought of killing Ryan's father in front of him made you hesitate. That was something that seemed too cruel to consider, unless if Ryan was somehow shown how monstrous his father was.

Homelander holds his hands up in mock surrender. "I just want to talk this out."

You stand and push Lou behind you, refusing to let Homelander get anywhere near her again. "I thought you didn't want to talk to us anymore." You spit the words.

"I changed my mind." He forces his expression into something that looks like shame. "Maybe I got a little carried away before. But you have to understand I have been waiting to be apart of a family for such a long time and now that I have Ryan I’ve realized how important it is to have one. I'd never felt that kind of love for someone else, the kind of love that drives you to sacrifice whatever you have to save them.” He glances down at Lou who is peeking out from behind your leg at Homelander. "The kind of love you have for Lou."

He speaks like a practiced actor, his hand movements simple, rehearsed, the expressions on his face calm and collected, but you don't believe it for a minute.

"I know you said that I wasn’t your son, but I am." He says, eyes flicking from Ben to you. "I am your blood that's all that matters and now we can be a family. A real family."

"Where is Rosemary?" You ask. Lou hasn't moved from behind you.

"Please. All I'm asking is for a chance-" Homelander says ignoring your question.

"Why should we give you a fucking chance? You kidnapped Lou, you've probably hurt Rosemary or worse!" You could feel the room beginning to shake with the force of your anger, eyes shifting to purple.

"You kidnapped her, Dad?" Ryan asks in surprise.

You look back at where he was standing. Lou was still holding on to his hand and when you'd pushed her behind you, you'd also inadvertently pushed Ryan behind you too.

"I thought you said that Lou wanted to come live with us." Ryan continues looking confused. "And who's Rosemary?"

"He lied." Ben snarls, eyes not leaving Homelander.

"My guess is he does that a lot." You sigh looking at Ryan. "She's Lou's mother, your aunt. She flew after him when he took Lou. You haven't seen her?"

Ryan shakes his head.

Fuck.

Homelander ignores the question again and changes tactics, his blue eyes turning on Ben. "I understand what it's like for your team to betray you, to stab you in the back, to act like you didn't fight together, bleed together and to act like you weren't willing to die for one another. We could be unstoppable together, all of us. A family. Isn't that what you always wanted dad?" Homelander says the last part softly, enticing Ben to make that choice. "I read your file. Everything about what happened to your mother and it wasn't hard to figure out what happened with your father."

Ben's jaw clenches together and you watch his entire body tighten at the mention of his dad.

It was true. Ben had always wanted a family, always wanted someone in his life that cared for him, that he could love and be loved by, and you had made sure in all the years you'd known him that it was you. You were his family just as Ben had become your family and cared for you. It was hard to not be family to one another after all the years you'd spent together, to not care about him the way you did. It wasn't a burden to you to love Ben and wasn’t a burden for you to take up the title of family, because it was simply true.

You reach out and touch Ben's back to let him know that you’re there, feeling his muscles twitch for just a moment beneath your hand, before he glances over his shoulder at you. For just a fraction of a second you see the Soldier Boy façade drop and you see your Ben again, before something hardens in his eyes. The conversation that passes through the glance you share is absolute and quick, but he understands.

Ben takes a step towards Homelander letting your hand fall as he forces a tired sigh. "I'm sorry." He places his hand on Homelander's right shoulder.

You watch Homelander relax under the contact, the expression on his face hurts you. You didn't think it would, but Homelander looks happy and comforted that Ben was here with him. Content that Ben finally gave in.

In some ways you wished that it could be this way, that Homelander was redeemable, and that you could all be a family the way he wanted. But you couldn’t. The blood on his hands was too great and you had to stop him before anyone else got hurt.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there, sorry that I wasn't able to teach you what I should have father to son." Ben sighs. "I think it would have helped you. I think your mother could have helped you."

"You're here now." Homelander says, looking over Ben shoulder at you, his eyes misty. You force yourself to send him an encouraging smile. "Both of you are." Homelander's voice sticks a little as he says it.

Something deep down breaks when he says that, because it’s the same thing that Ben and you had said to each other outside. As much as you wanted to hate Homelander, to push him away, another part of you was beginning to unravel, the part of you that wanted to accept him as your son. But you couldn’t because he didn't deserve that. Homelander was the monster that Vogelbaum created, there wasn’t a shred of human decency left and that meant Ben and you had to make a hard decision.

You wonder if Ben really did feel that way or if he was just doing this because he knew you wanted him to.

Ben continues to smile at him. "It would have helped you not to become a sniveling weak pussy starved for attention."

Homelander's smile falters. "Weak? But I'm your blood. Your son-"

"I know." You try to ignore the emotion that bleeds into Ben's voice when he says it. "And you're a fucking disappointment."

"What-" Homelander doesn't get the word out before Ben tackles him back away from you and Butcher leaps over the table to help him.

Ryan stiffens behind you as they do this and you look at him. "Dad?" Ryan whispers.

Lou gasps and touches the end of your shirt in fear, watching Homelander fight Butcher and Ben back, his eyes glowing an ominous red.

You open your mouth to say something to her and Ryan, but you feel a sharp pressure on the back of your neck and hear a high pitched snap. You turn your head to look to your right and see Black Noir standing there, a broken syringe that holds a clear liquid in his right hand. The tip snapped when he had tried to press it into your body, unaware that your newfound power meant that nothing could break your skin.

"Ryan, please take Lou out of here. I don't want her to see this." You say calmly, not looking away from Noir, who lowers the syringe slowly in shock.

"But-" Ryan begins to say.

"Do it now." You order turning your body to face Noir. "Hello Earving. Long time no see."

Noir takes a small step backward realizing his mistake as Ryan pulls Lou to the doors on the other side of the room.

You hear Noir try to form a word, nothing more than an awkward click and a wheezing sound. "Sorry I can't hear you." You smile cruelly at him.

"I’d say you look good but, Ben really fucked you up pretty good didn't he?" You look through the mask with your x-ray vision, seeing just how messed up Noir is underneath. "It's a miracle that you're alive. That any of you got out of there alive."

Noir drops the syringe and pulls a knife, the blade shining in the fluorescent lights.

"You know, if the syringe didn't work, I don't think the knife will either." You begin to say, but he's undeterred.

He lunges forward sweeping the blade in a deadly arch aiming for your neck, but you catch his wrist. “If I had been there you all would have suffered.” You turn his wrist at an awkward angle, listening to the sharp cracking of bone as it snaps and Noir’s wheeze of pain.

Behind you, you could hear the telltale sound of punching and crashing, but you don’t look away from Noir, trusting that Ben and Butcher have it under control.

"Before I killed Countess I had to listen to her go on and on about how proud she was about that day, how proud she was that you all stabbed Ben in the fucking back, and honestly I didn’t mean to kill her. Though I will admit I regret not making it last a little longer. The Twins begged for mercy, tried to tell me that it was a big mistake, that Ben lied to me." You shrug advancing on him. "But Ben doesn't lie to me."

Noir tries again, kicking his foot up to hit your abdomen, but your hand closes on his ankle keeping his leg extended between the two of you.

"He told me exactly what happened that day." You snarl, shoving Noir back from you so harshly that he lands on the ground. "You all turned on him. And honestly, you got off easy. You're lucky I wasn't there. Do you have any idea what I would have done to you if I had been there?" You smile and let out a low laugh. "Well I guess that doesn't matter, because you’re about to find out."

He scuffles back still on the ground, trying to crawl back, and reaches into his pocket for something. You were expecting a gun or a throwing knife, but instead he pulls out a notepad and a pen and you stop.

"What are you-" You begin to say, but Noir starts frantically writing with his only good hand.

He curls his ruined arm under the notepad to hold it steady as he forms the words on the page, and holds it up for you to see.

Did it for you.

"What?"

Noir drops the pad to write again.

Using you.

"Who?"

Him.

"Ben?"

Noir nods frantically.

Only way.

Wow he is so much worse off than I thought.

Then again, when Ben broke your heart you did think that too for a little bit. That all the years spent together had been a lie and that he was manipulating you and using you because he didn’t want to face the silence alone. It reminded you of the thing your mother shouted at you when you gave Howard back the ring and left home:

“You really think that disappointment will ever love you? Care about you? You are nothing to him, just another plaything. And the day he finally tosses you away, don’t bother coming back here.”

It makes you hesitate again and Noir sees it as an opportunity to write more on his piece of paper.

Set you free.

"You thought that the only way to free me was to send Ben to fucking Russia?"

Noir nods.

"I wasn't some fucking damsel in distress. I wasn't locked up in a tower by some dragon. I wasn't trapped-

You were.

"No I wasn't I chose to be there-"

Not happy.

"I was happy Earving."

I am better for you.

Your jaw snaps together, looking past the mask and into his scarred face. The expression in his eyes has shifted now, to something softer, something vulnerable and earnest. You remember what Stan said about Noir going through your apartment when you weren't there, stealing pieces of your clothing, and stealing your jewelry.

I did everything for you.

Noir reaches into his pocket and pulls out something that glimmers in the light. It takes you a moment to recognize it, but it's your pearl necklace, the one your father gave you when you spent your first birthday away from home. He holds it out to you and you take it from his hand. The beads are just as you remember, maybe a little yellowed with age, but still in good condition. Soft and supple against your fingertips, warmed from where they were in Noir's pocket.

Said I could have you.

"Who?"

Stan.

The name of the man you killed makes your blood run cold and for a minute you feel bad for Noir, feel bad that he believed what Stan said. Stan who told Noir whatever he could into manipulating him to do his bidding.

Stan knew that he was obsessed with me, knew exactly what to say to make sure that Noir would do what he wished. And Noir believed that I was something that Stan could give away. I didn't belong to Stan, didn't belong to anyone but me.

That was the problem with Stan after all, that he thought you were a commodity to be sold. That everyone else in the entire world believed that you were nothing more than a puppet to be used and disposed of whenever they saw fit. It was the same attitude that drove Stan and Vogelbaum to take your genetic material.

But then you left. Tried to find you. Couldn't find you. Why did you hide?

You watched Noir's shoulders slump as if it was painful for him to go through the past forty years not knowing where you were.

Could have helped you.

A chill of disgust traces its hand down your back. You wondered how long he had been stalking you and wondered how many things he still had from forty years ago. The pearls were quickly icing in your hands, a symbol of the girl you used to be, the one who walked around Philadelphia and saw the world in color, saw the good in people. You knew that she was gone, long gone. Not after everything that you'd been through in the past week, finding out about what Vogelbaum did to you changed you, finding out what happened to Rosemary with Charlie changed you into someone different.

But you didn’t hate who you had become. You glance behind you at where Ben is fighting Homelander, ducking beneath the blows that Homelander tries to land, dancing around him.

I love you.

When your eyes trace over the familiar words and see the earnestness in Noir's eyes behind the mask. A part of you breaks for Noir, understanding that his obsession with you maybe did stem from good intentions but the descent into madness that drove him to do the things he did was dark and consumed him quickly.

"Did you know about Homelander?"

Noir was still sitting on the ground looking up at you and when you ask the question you watch him drop his head to his chest in shame.

Yes.

You move the pearls to your front pocket, considering your next move. "I saved your life before from Ben, not because I loved you but because I didn’t think it was right for him to hurt you. I didn't think that you deserved to lose your life over a film role.” You murmur with a sigh “But maybe if you'd gone about this the right way I would have given you a chance."

Do it now.

"No." You shake your head.

But I love you. I'm here-

The next word is just a scribble now as you fling your hand out and Noir's body flies back into the concrete wall. It cracks around him as you increase the pressure and he begins to fold in on himself.

"If you really loved me Earving, you wouldn't have let them do that to me." Your voice sounds hollow, but you know that it's the truth. “You would have tried harder to find me every day, to tell me what they fucking did.”

“Did try-“ He wheezes in a broken voice, barely audible.

“Should have tried harder.”

"Please-" The word is only a shadow of what it should be, his injuries making it difficult to form it, and through the mask you see a single tear tracing the side of his scared face.

"Ben would have ripped them all apart if he knew what they did. But you didn't, you sat at Stan's table for forty years and did absolutely nothing. You don't get the privilege to beg for mercy. Not after the things you did to Ben, and after the things you kept from me." There’s a purple outline glowing all around him, weaving around his torso. Your hand closes, the subtle glow of purple around his body tightening more and more, his screams sounding more like muffled wheezes, different than the shrieks of pain that Stan released in his final moments. And you continue to close your hand until there's nothing left, but a ball of flesh, tissue, and bone sitting on the ground where Noir used to be. Blood flecks the floor, forming rivulets that run like rivers over the pristine black marble like the roots of a tree.

You take in a breath, trying not to go into the darkness again that surges up with Noir’s death, the same darkness that dragged you under when everything happened with Stan, but you right yourself and turn to look at where Ben is fighting Homelander.

Ben is shaking his head and rising from a pile of debris, while Homelander floats in the air holding Butcher by the throat, looking down at him with a sickening smile.

"Goodbye William." Homelander turns and throws him against the window. It shatters with the force of Butcher's body being thrown against it and his body disappears from view into the air outside of the building.

Homelander turns to look at Ben and you. Ben has a cut on his cheek from Homelander's laser vision and takes a shaky step forward, but he stands proudly, putting himself between Homelander and you.

“Dad why did you do that?" Ryan asks. "Butcher was my friend."

Your gaze flicks to where Ryan and Lou are peeking around the door way that leads to another part of the tower and you're suddenly afraid that Lou saw what you did to Noir, but she's only looking out the shattered window in horror, tears in her little eyes. She liked Butcher, thought that he was funny.

"He was standing in my way son. And we don't let anyone stand in our way do we? Even our friends." Homelander's hair is hanging in his face from the fight, suit ripped away from his chest to reveal the black bodysuit underneath, one of his golden eagle shoulder pads is missing, and he has a prominent bruise on his cheek. "See isn’t that better. No more Butcher to spread lies about me. Now we can all talk like a family.”

"Wouldn’t be too sure of that you narcissistic cunt." You hear Butcher’s voice say.

Rosemary floats into the room, supporting Butcher with one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She's still wearing the exact same thing she was when she followed Homelander, but now the dark sweatpants and t-shirt are ripped and riddled with what look like bullet holes. Rosemary's hair is wild around her face the hair tie that held it long gone, and she has blood flecked on her arms that you’re sure isn’t hers.

But she's there and she's alive.

You weren’t going to ask her what happened, but the wave of relief you have with her appearance obliterates the weight on your shoulders.

“We aren’t a fucking family.” Rosemary grits her teeth together, spitting the words back at Homelander.

"Mommy!" Lou says happily pulling away from Ryan to go towards her mother, who is closer to Homelander than you wanted her to be.

"How did you-" Homelander sputters.

"Get out of that pathetic excuse for a trap?" She snarls, green eyes flashing, looking more like Ben as she touches down in the room, helping Butcher to his feet. "It was easy. But you and I aren't done."

"I think we are." Homelander's eyes glow bright red, letting lose a bolt, it glances off her arm, but Rosemary crashes into him, grabbing him around the wrist to bring him down against the ground so hard that it rattles the other windows in the room.

But as she tries to bring his body against the marble floor again, Homelander breaks free and rises from the ground to fasten his hand around her throat, his eyes still glowing a sharp red that cuts through the room.

"You’re really pathetic." Homelander sighs. "I expected more, but I suppose you have no training or no practice controlling your powers."

She spits in Homelander's face and his gaze turns murderous.

"Let her go." Ben snarls, his chest beginning to glow, and this time you know that he won't stop, that he won't hold back from hitting Homelander full blast.

Homelander ignores Ben, focusing on Rosemary. "You think that you’re more powerful than me? You're not. I am the oldest after all." Homelander's voice is eerily calm. “You are nothing. Insignificant. You waste your life caring for other people and it makes you weak.”

“Leave my mommy alone!” Lou shouts and kicks Homelander in the shin.

Homelander looks down at her, his eyes still glowing.

Oh shit.

“You know, I thought you were cute at first, but you’re really just annoying.” He sighs kicks out with his foot and before you can do anything Lou goes flying out the opening in the window with a blood curdling scream.

“No!” You shout as her body vanishes just as Butcher’s had only seconds ago. You feel your body take off the ground to chase after her, but before you make it out the window, Lou comes soaring back in her little fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“That was mean.” She states indignantly.

Your eyes widen in shock, feet touching back down on the ground. She can FLY?

“Wow. I kinda expected more than you only being able to fly seeing as you’re supposed to be so powerful but I guess-" Homelander begins to say.

Lou waves her hand a purple glow coming from around her fingertips and the large table in the middle of the room jerks off the floor and slams into Homelander like a freight train. A loud “ooof” comes out of his mouth as he drops Rosemary and flies back against the wall of monitors.

“Mommy are you okay?” Lou says hugging her mom tight.

“Yes sweetie.” Rosemary says hugging her back, but even she seems as stunned by this turn of events as you do.

Yes Rosemary had said that Lou was going to develop powers, but you didn’t think it was going to happen like this or this soon. Then again you weren’t well versed in how long it took for supe children to develop them. Rosemary had developed hers when she was one year old, but you were hoping that maybe you had a few years before Lou developed hers.

“How did she do that?” Ben murmurs to you.

“I have no idea. It’s not a power I was born with or Rosemary was born with. Same with the flying-“ You whisper back. “She didn’t touch Rosemary before she did it, but-“ A horrible thought comes flitting into your mind.

The truth was you’d never used your powers around Lou, neither had Rosemary. Lou didn't know that either of you were supes. She’d never had exposure to super powers before today, hadn't watched them on t.v or been around any other supes which meant that she was experiencing all of this for the first time.

And that’s why they’re manifesting right now.

“But what?”

“She saw me use telekinesis to fight Noir. She saw Homelander fly." You murmur.

I receive powers through death, Rosemary through touch, and Lou through sight.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

She could have limitless power, more than any of us, more than any supe that ever lived. No wonder Charlie was obsessed with her power. All she has to do is see a supe use their powers and-

The fear of Vought and the government comes crashing over you all over again, because you knew that they wouldn't let Lou go free, not when her ability was something like that, something that made her indestructible and unstoppable.

They'd run experiments on her, do whatever it took to try and gain that power for themselves, because who needed an army of supes when there was just one who was able to do anything?

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Ben leans towards you.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Ben mutters.

“You can say that again.”

Homelander rises from the ground brushing off his clothes with a snarl on his face eyeing Lou and Rosemary before he finally turns himself towards Ben and you. "I don’t understand why you're doing this."

"Us?" You scoff trying to shake off the shiver of fear that came with the revelation of Lou’s gift. "You’re the one who kidnapped an innocent child and just tried to throw her out a fucking window."

"You should thank me!" He snaps, eyes gleaming darkly in the light. "I unlocked her abilities. Something that neither of you had been able to do. And now she really is growing into her potential." His eyes flick to where Ryan is standing by Butcher. Butcher's hand is on his shoulder. "You really turned into a disappointment too. I tried to do all of that with you and all you did was kill your fucking mother!"

Ryan inhales sharply, and Butcher's hand tightens on his shoulder. "The only disappointment here is you." Butcher's eyes narrow as he stares at Homelander. "Ryan is not a disappointment to me and he wasn't a disappointment to Becca! And it's not his fault what happened to her."

"Oh right Becca." Homelander rolls his eyes. "You've really got to get over her. She wasn't anything special. Practically brainwashed Ryan into believing he wasn't special. When he comes from a practically god-like bloodline. Judging by Lou's powers I'd say that Ryan got the short end of the stick."

"We are not gods." You spit. "Can't you fucking see that? We are what Vought created. We live, we bleed, we die, that's it. Nothing more, nothing less."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." Homelander looks furious. "You were supposed to be my family, supposed to love me!" He looks from Ryan to Lou to Rosemary and then finally back at Ben and you. "Somebody has to like me best! Someone has to love me! I'm your blood! Your son! Your first born!"

"She's said it before and I'll say it again." Ben states from where he's standing next to you. "You might be our blood, but you're not our son."

The manic look on Homelander's face makes you anxious. He was like a feral animal backed into a corner. He knew that he had lost and you knew that there was no way to tell how he would react to this.

“Do you have any idea what I could do to you?” Homelander’s voice is more of a growl now as he begins to advance on Ben. “I am the most powerful super who ever lived. I am a god. And you are nothing compared to me.”

You step up beside Ben preparing for what comes next. “You’re nothing Homelander. You’re just a sad little boy who never grew up and became a hollow shell of a person that Vought filled with macho bullshit until you turned into a monster.” You say cooly. You were ready to fight him again, to kill him, because you knew he would never stop, that he wouldn’t leave any of you alone unless he was dead.

“I am not a monster!” His eyes are dark. “You think you’re so high and mighty? You’ve killed more people than me and at least I do it quickly. Did you enjoy it?” He smiles wide. “To watch the light fade from their eyes? To crush them into nothing while you sat back and craved their deaths?”

“The people I have killed I have killed to protect my family. I don’t do it for sport.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t just accept me! I’m your son! I’m not some fuck up disappointment! I’m Homelander! The greatest supe who ever lived. You should be proud of me! Proud to be my parents.” His eyes narrow. “Do you have any idea what I could give you? I have built an empire from nothing. Dad, you could be on top again, a household name, respect, power, money, women, anything you wanted and you’re really going to throw all of that away? For her? For them?”

Ben's eyes skate over Lou and Rosemary, and flick to you before he levels his gaze on Homelander once more.

“I have everything I need.” Ben’s voice is low and gruff squeezing your hand tighter in his as he speaks.

You feel your heartbeat stutter for a second, because Ben had said and done the one thing that you never believed that Soldier Boy ever could. After eighty years, Ben had chosen you just as you’d chosen him the night he asked you to give up everything you knew and dive into the unknown with him. And you felt the last shred of apprehension about him staying in your life crumple up and burn, because you knew that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was going to love you and stay with you for the rest of your life. If you weren’t in this situation you were sure that you would be crying.

“Fine. If you don’t wish to be apart of it, then you’ll burn with the others.” His eyes begin to glow bright red as he prepares to charge Ben and you.

You brace your body for the coming fight, dropping Ben's hand.

Everything slows down. Homelander's feet leave the ground as he starts to fly forward to kill you, the heat from Ben's chest burning the air around you, and the beating of your own heart thunderous in your ears as you feel your eyes shift to red.

But the attack never comes.

A blinding flash of golden-orange light hits Homelander in his left side, there's an unmistakable smell of burning flesh and hair, and Homelander's body is knocked off course through the wall full of monitors. There's a scream somewhere and you turn to see Rosemary, kneeling over Lou's body that lies on the ground.

And you understand. The attack didn’t come from Ben, it came from Lou. Lou who saw Ben use his powers, Lou who had the ability to replicate abilities through sight, and Lou who was so little that you were unsure what something like that would do to her.

"Lou." You gasp racing over to where Rosemary is cradling her little body to her chest.

She looks okay, paler than normal, her breathing is uneven, and you can hear the frantic beat of her little heart, but she does not open her eyes.

"Louisa?" Rosemary says, stroking the back of her head, looking into the face of her daughter, using her full name for the first time in years.

She doesn't move, stays limp in her mother's arms.

No. I can't lose Lou. I've lost so much over the years.

Tears spring to your eyes as you fall to your knees, reaching out to touch her arm. Her skin is so warm it almost burns the palm of your hand, but you don't remove it.

"Lou please. Wake up sweetie." You say, voice thick with emotion.

Lou stays as she is.

Ben's hand comes down on your shoulder and you lean into his leg, shuddering as tears begin to trickle down your cheeks.

Rosemary is beside herself, sobs shaking her shoulders, cradling Lou to her chest. "Please don't leave me." You hear Rosemary whisper.

You suddenly flash back to the day on the beach that you took the bullet for Ben, when your blood turned the sand to mud and Ben held you so tight to his chest that it almost hurt, and you thought you heard him say the same words as you felt yourself began to drift off into nothing.

Ben pulls you up against his chest, tucking your head into the hollow of his throat, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he looks down at his daughter and granddaughter. You shudder into his chest, choking back a sob, arms gripping the front of his suit.

"Mommy?" You hear Lou's little voice murmur.

You pull away from Ben's chest to see where Lou is still lying, her eyes blinking open, but it seems like too much effort.

"Yes sweetie?"

"Can we go home now?" Lou says. "I'm tired."

"Whatever you want honey." Rosemary sighs in relief, hugging Lou closer to her.

"I want grandpa to come with us." She breathes into Rosemary's shirt, wrapping her little arms around her mother's neck. "And grandma and Ryan." Lou says the last too so quietly that you don't think that you heard correctly, but she quickly falls asleep.

"Okay." Rosemary's eyes are closed, and she's petting the back of Lou's back.

You exhale, slowing down your breathing, still holding tight to Ben's supe suit. Ben's eyes aren't on you though, they are focused on the giant hole in the side of the building that Homelander disappeared into.

Homelander comes stumbling through holding his head. His supe suit hangs in burned tatters on his shoulders, but his skin looks unscathed. There's a large lump on the side of his temple, and he squints at Ben and you as if he can't recognize you.

"Hello." Homelander says it hesitantly. "Um. I'm sorry I don't know where I am. Do you live here?"

Holy fucking shit.

"Um." You stutter.

"Do you know who I am?" Homelander continues taking a shaky step towards where you're all standing.

"Dad are you okay?" Ryan asks.

Homelander's blue eyes flick to his son. "I'm your dad?"

Butcher is on Homelander before you can stop him, tackling him to the ground and landing a punch against Homelander's nose.

There's a sickening crunching noise and a high pitched wail from Homelander, as the nose breaks beneath Butcher's fist and blood floods down Homelander's face.

He's human now, but he doesn't know who he is. Your eyes skate across where Homelander lays under Butcher until your eyes catch on the lump on his right temple. He has brain damage from when he landed, he hit his head, doesn't remember any of this, any of us, any of who he is.

And before Butcher can land another blow you grab him by the back of the coat and throw him across the room. He checks himself mid-air and lands in a crouch, his coat billowing out behind him like a cape.

"Just hold on for a minute." You say.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He shouts, fist still covered in blood.

What am I doing? The thought was also going around in your head. You had come here to kill Homelander, to make him pay, but seeing him like this, unable to tell who he was or where he was, made this feel wrong. You couldn't put your finger on it, but it felt evil to kill someone who didn't know the reason why they were going to be executed.

"Don't touch him." You say, standing between Butcher and Homelander. Ben and Rosemary are watching you like you're crazy, but you don't let Butcher get close to Homelander.

"Why did you do that?" Homelander cries, holding his gloved hand to his nose to stop the bleeding. Tears are slipping down his cheeks from the pain.

"Ryan give me your jacket please." You hold out your hand for Ryan's red jacket who is looking at his father in total disbelief. "Here." You give it to Homelander. "Tilt your head back and press this to your face."

He does what you say, but he's still watching you like he doesn't completely trust you.

The feeling is mutual.

"You're kidding right? He's still a psychopathic maniac-" Butcher snarls advancing on you. Ben steps forward to stop him.

"I'm not going to let you kill him in front of his child and it-" You glance back at Homelander. "It's different now. He doesn't know who he is, doesn't know why he's here-"

"You don’t think he's fucking faking?" Ben shouts, glaring back at where Homelander is still standing, and for the first time you see genuine fear on Homelander's face.

I mean he is a good actor, but I don’t think that he's acting.

"I don't think he is."

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look sweetheart I know that he might be having a little bit of memory loss, but he's still Homelander. And I know that he is technically our son but this isn't like starting over. You can't redeem him this way."

"You're my parents?" Homelander asks looking at Ben and you suddenly confused. "But you're so young?"

You ignore him. "I'm not trying to redeem him and I'm not saying that he doesn't deserve to die or that we shouldn't kill him. I just think that we shouldn't kill him now when he's like this."

Ben narrows his eyes at the man who used to be Homelander. You can see the gears working inside of his head as he mulls over your logic, but you knew it meant that you had a shot of convincing him.

"Ben he's human now, you saw Butcher break his nose. He can't fake that-"

"That doesn't matter he's still the same person!" Ben sighs as if you're annoying him. "The same person that hurt Rosemary, the same person who kidnapped Lou."

"I know he's the same person, but it feels wrong to do this, to execute him for something that he can't remember. It's like killing a little kid."

"Fuck." Ben mutters it more to himself than to you as he tries again to see your logic.

Honestly, it hard to see it yourself. You had killed a few people over the years, didn't feel remorse when it came to the safety of your family, but this was different. Homelander had killed people, threatened, and tortured others but he didn't remember it. You hated that it made you guilty when if anyone deserved to die it was him.

"Fine." Ben holds up a hand. "Fine. We help him jog his memory then we kill him."

"Okay, yes that's all I'm asking." You agree.

"Wait a minute, I'm not going to agree to any of that bullshi-" Butcher begins to say, but the large doors at the back of the room open and a group of people walk in.

You recognize Hughie right off the bat, one girl as Starlight from her livestreams, the man from Herogasm who tried to gas Ben that Butcher identified as MM, but the other two are unfamiliar. One is a supe, her black hair straight and hanging around her face, but the other is a man holding a canister of some kind in his right hand with cropped black hair who smells like how Ben used to when he would shoot up and smoke whatever he could get his hands on in the 70's.

Well this is either going to go badly or go badly.

"Who are they?" Homelander says, his voice nasally from where he's holding the jacket to his face.

"What the fuck happened?" Hughie asks, looking around the room at the destruction.

"Well-" Butcher begins to say.

"I turned him human with whatever the fuck is in my chest. You're welcome." Ben lies.

You swallow the lump in the back of your throat. The last thing you wanted was for them to know what Lou was capable of. Rosemary is standing now behind you, holding Lou in her arms who sleeps quietly, curled into her mother.

"But how did you-" Starlight asks.

"I held him down telekinetically." You shrug. "Wasn't that hard."

"Huh." She frowns. "But you didn't kill him?"

"He hit his head." Butcher explains coming to stand beside you. "Can't remember a bloody thing."

"And you believe that?" MM sputters. His eyes haven't left Ben and you know exactly what he's thinking about, the night his grandfather died.

"She does." Butcher nods his head in your direction. "And she doesn't want to kill him if he can't remember why he's a fucking cunt."

MM's eyes flick to you. "Who are you?"

"You're Indigo right? The supe from the 80's who vanished?" Starlight asks.

"Mhmm." You hoped that they weren't here to fight you, but the shiny silver cannister in the shorter man's hand says otherwise. "But all of that doesn't matter now. It was a long time ago. The only thing that matters here is that Homelander is human and that no one died."

Her eyes flick to the ball of flesh in the corner that was Noir then back at you. "No one?"

"No one who didn't deserve it." Ben clarifies gruffly.

You could feel the tension in the air between the group of people standing in front of you. Ben was mirroring your protective stance in front of Rosemary, Lou, and Ryan. You weren't sure what was going to happen, but you didn't want to put them in the line of fire.

"We don't want any trouble, we're just going to take Homelander and leave." You say diplomatically.

"Who's Homelander?" Homelander says still obviously confused. "Is that me?"

Everyone ignores him.

"Wait where are you going to take him?" Hughie asks.

"I have a friend. She knows how to handle supes. She'll find a place for him." Your gaze flicks to the other female supe who hasn't said anything since she walked into the room. You didn't like that you didn't know what her powers are and did not know what to expect if she chose to fight you.

You also hadn't spoken to your would-be friend in over forty years, but you figured that she still was able to pull the same strings she had done in the past for you.

"A friend?" Butcher sounds skeptical.

"Yeah. So if you wouldn't mind letting us through-" You take a step forward preparing to push through the group of people.

MM pulls his gun. "We can't let you do that."

"Why?"

"Well for one Soldier Boy is a terrorist. He's killed people." Starlight's eyes narrow when she looks at Ben. "He's a nuclear bomb with a short fuse, who knows who else will get hurt. Not to mention he's murdered people."

"The only people I murdered are the people from our old team, everyone else was an accident." Ben replies gruffly, looking down the barrel of the gun, unfazed.

"Doesn't matter. It's still murder." The man with the gun states, his eyes narrowing at Ben.

This is not going to go well.

You sigh. You didn't want to kill them, but it was quickly becoming apparent that they weren't going to back down.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way." The other man says in a faintly French accent, the dark haired supe beside him tensing as if preparing to spring.

"And you don't want to fight us." MM narrows his eyes at you.

Ben chuckles under his breath. "Trust me kid, it won't be much of a fight."

He's really not helping his case.

"Oh really?" Starlight's eyes begin to glow a dangerous gold, challenging you to get in her way.

You snort before you can stop yourself. "Your eyes glow, that's cute." You smirk at her, feeling yours shift to bright purple. "Mine do too."

"Annie wait." Hughie says, placing his hand on her arm. "Just let her talk for a minute."

"Really? You want me to listen to this psychopath? You see what she did to Noir-" Starlight, now Annie, gestures back to the blood stained wall and what's left of your old friend.

"If it's any of your business, you would know that he deserved it. And he started it." You say simply. "But it’s not."

"So what? You're telling us to just let you take Homelander?" She spits, eyes still glowing. "And let you leave with Soldier Boy?"

"You really think you can stop us?" Ben takes a step towards Annie, but you hold up your arm to stop him.

"I've honestly had a really bad week and we don't want to fight." You emphasize. "But we will if we have to. And trust me you really don't want that to happen."

"Then come willingly." MM says without lowering his gun.

"You know we can't do that. The last thing I’m going to do is let you lock Soldier Boy up again in some fucking lab. He's been in there long enough.” You reply.

"I'm not going to let you walk away with a ticking time bomb. He's killed people." Annie looks at where Ben is standing slightly to your left.

Like hell you're gonna take him and lock him in a cage.

"He's in control now. And I'll keep him in check."

"You expect us to trust you?" She scoffs. "You, who also have killed who knows how many people over the years."

"Could be worse." You shrug. "But the truth is none of you can stop us, sure maybe you can slow us down for a few minutes, but it won't end well for any of you. And I'd rather not kill any more people today in front of my grandchildren." You raise an eyebrow.

Annie's eyes shift back to where Rosemary is watching her warily, still cuddling Lou to her chest, and you can feel Starlight hesitate for just a second.

"Look Annie, can I call you Annie?" You let your eyes return to their natural color and wave your hand in what you think might be a friendly gesture, but your patience was wearing thin.

"No."

"Annie." You clear your throat. "The things I've done, I've done for my family. I think that maybe you can sympathize with that a little bit. And Soldier Boy well-" You glance at Ben, who is still staring down the barrel of the pistol with a stoic expression. Honestly you knew he was waiting for you to say the word to take down the group of people in front of you. "He's trying to be better and I'm going to help him, but I can't let you put him in a prison cell somewhere or in a cage or a lab."

“I can’t just let you disappear with him.” Starlight’s gaze is firm, unyielding.

You were willing to kill her if that’s what it took, but honestly you were exhausted. Emotionally. Not to mention you didn’t want to have to use the one favor you had but you were going to have to, to make your friend deal with Homelander. You hated owing her favors, they never ended well.

“We won’t disappear.”

“Why should I believe that?”

"You don't have to, but I don’t owe you anything Annie. No explanations, no nothing. Please just be thankful that this is all there is." You look at the faces of the people around her and stop on Hughie, before shifting back to her. "Do you want their blood on your hands? Because I don't. So please let us go and I promise that we won't be a problem."

"You're so sure that it's going to go your way. That you're going to kill all of us. You might be a supe but you don't know that you're going to-" MM begins to say and you finally snap.

Your eyes shift back to bright purple, energy pulsing out from your body as you unlock the anger, rage, betrayal, and hurt you felt the night you almost destroyed Legend's backyard. The bodies of the people standing in front of you lock up as your powers take control, weaving across their limbs, and shrouding them in the warm purple glow from your abilities, forcing them to their knees with their hands behind their backs. The only one you didn’t do this to was Hughie who is looking at you like you're some kind of monster.

And maybe the old you would have thought that too, but the new you wasn't phased.

Annie's body is glowing now, trying to fight the compulsion of your telekinetic abilities, but you know that she can't break it.

"That's how she knows." Ben says with a smirk. You can almost hear pride in his voice.

"Please let them go." Hughie asks you.

"I will. But first we're going to leave. Rosemary, you, Lou, and Ryan go first."

She walks around the people with Ryan in tow who looks back at Butcher for a moment, before he vanishes through the doors. "Ben take Homelander."

"Like fuck I'm going to leave you-" You turn your glowing eyes on him.

"I will be right behind you, now go."

Ben grits his teeth together, waiting another minute, but finally grabs Homelander around the arm and tugs him from the room glaring at you the whole time and muttering something under his breath.

You glance at MM. "I'm sorry for your loss, I am. I know that nothing can make up for what he did and I know that none of you want to believe me when I say this but, he's changed and he's trying to be better." You sigh. "I didn't want it to be like this."

"Wait you're not going to-" Hughie's eyes are wide and you feel Butcher take a step towards you as if he's going to stop you.

"No. Y'all don't deserve that. And I like to think that I'm still a good person. But-" You let out a breath. "I swear on my life that we won't disappear. I swear that I will do my upmost to help him and make sure that no one else gets hurt. And I'm sorry that it turned into this, but I hope that you believe me." Your expression hardens. "Because the next time you come and threaten my family or me again, I won't be forgiving and you won't walk away."

You drop the hold you have on their bodies when you make it to the elevator where your family and Homelander waits for you and you hope that they've chosen not to follow.

"So, what do I owe you for this one?" You ask Grace Mallory, as you stand on the dirt road, surveying the Upstate New York countryside. The fields on either side of the roads were filled with waist high grass that rustled in the wind blowing from the East, wicking the sweat on the back of your neck.

The sun was rising on the horizon and it had taken most of the night to get out of the city to meet her there. It had been a long drive, but the car you'd stolen was working, for now. Rosemary, Lou, and Ryan, were asleep in the back seat and Ben were standing at your side. When Mallory had received your call she didn't sound surprised. You knew that she probably figured you would need her especially with the revelation of Soldier Boy's reappearance. She knew that you had unfinished business with him and that he'd try to find you.

She looks different than she did the last time you saw her years ago. Her hair is now more gray than blonde, pulling free from the severe bun at the back of her head. Her dark colored suit is sharp, pristene, and freshly ironed.

You'd met her in the weeks that followed Ben's supposed death, when Legend and you were planning your disappearance. You didn't know why she helped you make a fake ID and smuggle you out of the city, but she had. The favor you owed her had been collected when Rosemary went off to college, a little supe problem that Mallory's team couldn't handle. Off the books of course. You hadn’t been recognizable and you knew that no one would be able to find you.

"I'll send you my bill." Her smile is tight-lipped, but it's still there. You knew she hated supes, and sometimes you think that she tried to hate you, but you were too much alike.

"The same I'm guessing."

"Maybe." She shrugs watching the other officers escort Homelander into the vehicle.

His nose didn't look much better, it was swollen and purple because no one had set it, and he was wearing a pair of gym shorts and an oversized t-shirt that said "Ask Me About My Cats" on it. It was all you could find at the gas station Ben had stopped at in the middle of nowhere. Technically all of you had to change, especially Rosemary who's clothes were still riddled with holes and with blood splatter. You had a few splashes of blood from Noir, but not nearly as much as her. You knew that the two of you would talk about what happened to her soon, but not right now.

A bird soars overhead and joins another on the power lines hanging above the street, squawking as it settles down.

"Figures. Can't we just call this a favor for an old friend?"

"I guess I should be thanking you. Taking down Homelander, that's pretty impressive. Can't believe Butcher let you walk away with him like that." Mallory says, pressing her lips into a tight line.

Her eyes flick to where Ben is standing beside you. He hadn't said much since he pulled up, still trying to take in everything that had happened last night. You knew she wasn't ecstatic about seeing him again, the last time she saw him she'd told you about after you'd helped her out with her little supe problem and she'd asked you to join her for a beer. You didn't drink it, but you'd sat with her anyway.

When she'd gotten out of the car as you pulled up you'd heard him mutter "is that captain lesbo?" under his breath and it was the first time you'd genuinely laughed since everything happened at Vought tower.

Honestly, you felt kinda heavy on your feet. The stale gas station coffee had done little to boost your energy level and neither had the protein bar that Ben forced you to eat because he said you needed to eat something.

I better get a long vacation after this.

"He wasn't on board, but I convinced him. His team also took some convincing." You frown remembering exactly what you'd had to do to let you walk away, but you didn't feel bad about it. You knew that it was the way things had to be to keep your family safe. "You're not going to tell him about this are you?"

"Maybe. Not for a while though. I'll give him some time to cool down, have a cup of tea, let things settle." Mallory taps a text message on her phone. "It definitely changes things though."

"What does?"

"A cure for being a supe." She eyes Ben for a second. "Word gets out that's not going to be good."

"Believe me I know." You sigh.

You were trying not to think about the revelation of Lou's powers. You hadn't told Mallory that Lou was the one that took down Homelander, nor would you ever. You'd take that to your grave and if Butcher knew what was good for him so would he. You'd destroyed all video evidence on your way out of the Tower, but you were still afraid that someone, somewhere knew something that they shouldn't. Lou had woken up for a little bit on the drive and seemed more like herself after she drank some chocolate milk and ate some dry cereal, than she had when she used her powers earlier.

She just needs to get used to it. We all went through that when we got our powers. But things are never going to be the same though.

Ben nudges your arm with his shoulder as if he's trying to reassure you that he's there and you're not going through this alone. When you glance up at him, you see the corner of his lips twitch into a smile for just a half-second before going back to his stoic expression.

They really aren't going to be the same.

"Don't worry. I'll try to keep it on the down low as long as I can." She shrugs.

Homelander waves once at Ben and you as he is placed into the black Tahoe. The entire trip upstate he had tried to ask more and more questions while Ben drove, but you didn't want to answer him, didn't want to form a bond with him, not when he was acting completely different. You didn't want to get attached, because one day when he remembered who he was and what he had done you were going to kill him.

Ryan hadn't tried to answer his father's questions. You honestly were surprised that he had come with you willingly, he didn't know any of you, but he didn't complain. Plus you'd bought him a pack of state capitals and abbreviations flashcards at the gas station and he'd busied himself with running through the flashcards as fast as he could.

"Do you think he's really forgotten?" Mallory asks you.

"I don't know." You reply honestly. "I think so. But he was backed into a corner, and this may have been his only way out. He didn't like that we weren't accepting him."

"Hmm." Mallory exhales out a breath. "Just makes all of this more difficult I guess."

"It's always difficult." You sigh just as heavily.

"Yeah. Seems like it."

"At least the fucker doesn’t have any powers." Ben adds. "What are you going to do with him anyway?"

"Lock him up, see if they can jog his memory." Mallory examines Homelander as he looks through the darkened windows of the Tahoe at the three of you, still smiling. "I'll let you know if it comes back."

"Thank you Grace."

"Sure. You owe me though."

"I know." You pull absentmindedly on the end of the bright pink shirt that you had to change in to at the gas station, because your other one had Noir's blood on it. "Try to give me a little time first okay?"

"Of course." She reaches out to shake your hand and then shakes Ben's. Mallory turns to walk towards her car, before she stops and turns around. "What about Ryan? You want me to take him off your hands too?"

Ben glances back at the car where Ryan is fast asleep, his head leaning against the window, hair fanning out against the glass. "No. I think he'd be better with us."

"With Homelander the way he is, Ryan should be safe now." You look back at Grace. "Rosemary has an extra bedroom in her apartment, she can take him."

"You sure your cousin can handle a supe with his kind of powers?" Mallory raises an eyebrow referring to Rosemary as your cousin as she always does. Though you believed she knew better and just never said anything.

"Yeah. I think she's got it. Plus Ben and I live in the city too. I have an extra room in my apartment, but I just need to clean it out before he can stay with us. Ryan will be safe and maybe he'll be able to have a normal life." The thought was comforting. You didn't know too much about Ryan's background, but thought that maybe he would benefit from having a normal schedule in his life and have a normal life away from being a supe. Of course you were already thinking about ways Butcher could be in his life. It was obvious how much Butcher cared about him and how much Ryan looked up to Butcher.

You were going to call him when you got back into the city. You also supposed that you could have told him about Mallory, but when you and Mallory started working together you had both decided to keep it to yourself, saw that it was better this way.

"Alright." Mallory turns back to walk towards the car. "See you in ten years." She jokes.

When the car pulls away and drives down the street, Homelander waves at Ben and you again as you stand there leaning against the hood of the SUV you stole to get out of the city. It was easy to steal cars when all you needed to do was telekinetically turn it on.

"You didn't tell me you knew Captain Lesbo." Ben says.

"Don't call her that." You snort. "I owe a lot to her, she helped me get away from Vought."

"Why?"

"No idea." You lean your head against Ben's shoulder, listening to the cawing of the birds and feeling the wind pull and tug at your hair as if trying to ask you to play. It was a nice day, warm, but not too hot.

"Tired?"

"Mhmm."

Ben presses a kiss to the top of your head, holding you closer to him for a few precious seconds, his arm squeezing around your shoulders. "Come on Sweetheart. Let's go home." He murmurs into the top of your head.

"Home?" You murmur looking up into his green eyes, cupping his bearded cheek.

Ben's eyes are bright in the sunshine, the same color they were the day you painted him at the park all those years ago with paint splattered fingers and skirts. But it doesn't feel like any time has passed. It still feels like him and you walking the streets of Philadelphia together with warm pretzels, him crawling through your window to escape the rest of the world, him and you soaking up the sunshine along the bank of a pond, him and you drinking sour beer in a bar and singing all the way home, him and you dancing in a ballroom with the lights twinkling above, and him and you and falling asleep in the same bed bodies entwined. He's still your Ben even after all these years. You knew every smile line, every frown line, every freckle, every dimple, every dip and curve of his handsome face. His arm is still heavy around your shoulders, comforting and familiar.

"I'm already there Ben."

Ben brings his hand up to hold your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb tracing along the curve of your cheekbone. You were more beautiful than he remembered, leaving him breathless each time you smiled at him. His eyes trace the frown lines, the smile lines, the scrunch between your eyebrows, the smile on your face, and down to the parts of you that you believe are imperfections. Someone so familiar to him that he was sure he would never forget, and yet looking at you always felt like the first time, like he was a drowning man and you were the first breath of fresh air. He still saw the pieces of you he knew growing up, the girl whose hair caught fire in the sun when you painted him by a pond that was probably dry and gone, the girl who smiled at him every time he crawled through her window to escape the rest of the world, the girl who refused to let him be alone, the girl who protected him and defended him, the girl who saw all the parts of him he tried to hide from the world, and the girl who made him feel loved for the first time in his life. "Good, because I'm not going anywhere sweetheart, for as long as I live, I promise to be here."

"I'll hold you to that Benjamin."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

A/N: Whew! Big chapter. Lots to take in I know!! But also really fun last moments that I just loved writing. I'm not gonna lie I was tearing up a little bit in that final scene. These characters have just meant so much to me to write. There is one more chapter coming! I know this one kinda felt a little bit like a wrap up, but the Epilogue is coming next. Stay tuned!

As always, thank you so much for reading and for all the love and support! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know! I know that there's only one chapter of the series left, but I will transfer it to the One-shot fics I have planned for them. 😊

Taglist:

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#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #homelander #soldier boy fic #billy butcher #annie january #hughie campbell

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casually-eat-my-soul · 7 months ago

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Stiles Stilinski and Claudia Stilinski are such an interesting dynamic. Only one person commented on the fact that they wanted to hear about this, but that’s permission to me, so yall have to suffer with me. It’s been awhile since I’ve watched teen wolf so my take may be off, please no hate but I’m open to discussion.

Claudia Stilinski is such an interesting character to me. We know virtually nothing about except how she, especially her death and the way she died affects the Stiles and the sheriff.

Stiles watched her die, the sheriff didn’t. Stiles stayed beside her, the sheriff was at work. Both undergo guilt because of this. This is the exact moment when stiles has to grow up - it fundamentally changed who stiles is as a character, it also defines him in certain moment. To me both characters try and keep their connect to Claudia in anyway they can. This is made apparent with the jeep. That’s Claudia car, stiles refuses to leave it even though it’s unreliable. This could reflect stiles relationship or his idea of his relationship with his mother is unreliable. The sheriff connects to his wife via stiles. Stiles real name - his mother gave it to him, he had the nickname mischief but changed to stiles, I wonder why?? Maybe after his mother died. But they can’t in the end, they can’t let go over her but they can’t hold onto her.

Stiles has a lot of trauma response from this moment. He pretends he’s fine even when he’s not, this is a learned response. He obsessively takes care of his dad, wanting to hold onto the last parent in his life. It also feels like a way to hold onto his mother via taking care of his dad. Literally every way that that stiles acts after his mom’s death is becuase of her death. The way that he loves people after his moms death is an effect of the last months of his mothers life and her death. He cares to a point of obsession (one of the reason I ship sterek, I think they’d balance each other out or just be able to understand each other darkness)

His mother’s disease would have taken precedents over everything else. And even after she died, his fathers feeling would have been more important. The Stilinski’s don’t talk about their feelings, they don’t talk about the times when they hurt each other. It’s almost like they can’t, that there is a disconnect. To me this says that Claudia was the emotional support for both of the Stilinski’s men. Don’t get me wrong, this is not hate on the sheriff. He does try to connect to stiles - they do talk each other about other things in their lives.

In a way I can understand Stiles. My father is a cop. The change in shifts and odd hours would mean that sometimes I wouldn’t see my father for days. Add on the fact that He is the Sheriff, whom the show makes it clear take extra shifts - stiles would be alone a lot. To me this means that his mother was his main source of paternal affection. This was further cemented for me when stiles tells his father “mom would have believed me”

When she dies it almost makes it seem that his care was transferred onto Scott. In most cases this would make Melissa a surrogate mother but in the show it doesn’t feel like that to me. Stiles is extremely independent, when his dad was away at work he would take care of his mother, even after her assaulting him. This would fundamentally change the way he interacts with adults, parents, specifically mothers. So I don’t see him grasping onto Melissa as a mother figure.

But also the way he interacts with Melissa, on one hand he’s almost her equal. He takes care of Scott almost as much as Melissa herself does. In a way their interactions feel like two parents talking to each other. On the other hand, it is clear that Melissa take care of him like he’s her son. But to me the only time when stiles reacts to her authority is when she’s mad, sometimes not even than. And the one time when he’s been possessed he calls her mom.

But also it’s made clear that the Stilinski’s don’t talk about Claudia - like at all. In the first season when the sheriff is drunk he says “I miss your mother”. The absolute shock on stiles face when he says that is so visceral. Claudia lingers over the household, not in a way that is a happy memory. she haunts it. After she dies stiles takes her place. The whole scene “how can I take care of you if I don’t know everything about you / I’m the dad, your the son” Stiles takes care of his dad obsessively, in a way that upsets the the balance of a child/parent relationship.

This is further made clear with the hints that the sheriff got major drunk after Claudia died. And that he threw himself into work once he got sober. Stiles effectively took over the household, putting him in the roles of his mother. We also see how the sheriff reacts to this because Stiles plays both the role of his wife and his son, not reaching the expectation for either. Stiles can never be his mother and yet he is her carbon copy. He wants to be her but all doesn’t at all. This dichotomy between the idea of stiles and the idea of Claudia means that she will always be present in the home. The first parent you will see in stiles face is Claudia. She haunts the narrative via her ghost but also via Stiles.

Especially in season three with the nogitsune, especially when it tricked everyone into believing that he’s dieing the same way his mother did. This is the final act of stiles becoming Claudia. The ghost of his mother has never been as prevalent but in this moment. You cannot tell me that his didn’t absolutely destroy the Stilinski households for months, even after they figured out that it was just a trick. To me this was one of the worst tricks played on stiles, because besides losing his friend this is what caused the Most devastation to him and his father. When he gets the MRI done this is when we see the change between stiles and the nogitsune. The demon has enough power to take over even for a few seconds because of this.

Being his mom especially in this connection is what devastates stiles the most. The nogitsune was in stiles head, he knows what would hurt him the most and what stiles fears the most.

Idk this is just my opinion and take.

#stiles stilinski #the way a child should never be a place holder #sheriff stilinski #the dynamic between a haunted space and the person it haunts #the terrifying ordeal of being known #stilinski’s clan put their loved ones above everyone else #claudia stilinski #i’m just delusional #stiles has mommy issues that’s why he’s the way he is #Stiles Stilinski character analysis #Claudia Stilinski Character analysis #I tried to analysis a character #I’m ignoring my connection to the character #character analysis #teen wolf #relationship analysis #sterek

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honeybeefae · 1 year ago

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Past and Present (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Eris Week Day One: Family

Summary// As you prepare to birth your first child, Eris is taken back to when his mother went into labor with Lucien, especially as the same problem seems to arise. When you reach out your hand for him to stay, will he take it or will he be just like his father?

(The first fic of Eris week is here and I hope you guys love it so much!! It is pretty emotional and shows a softer, tormented side of Eris that I feel we definitely need to see more of in the books!)

@erisweek2023

WARNINGS: Childbirth, Trauma, PTSD, Blood

The contractions were coming in waves as Eris watched you hold onto one of the banisters of the bed, your entire body covered in sweat as you let out another scream of pain. You had been in labor since last night and now that the sun was setting once more, everyone was growing concerned about you and the baby.

“My lord,” One of the healers pulled him aside as your back arched, hand flying to your belly. “My lord, the baby…”

“What about the baby? What is wrong?” He snapped, his nerves on edge as the healer fumbled over his words. “Spit it out. What is wrong?”

“The baby is breech, my lord. He is coming feet first.” The healer explained quickly, dabbing a cloth across his face as Eris glared at him. “We need you to make a decision.”

“It is not his decision to make, it is mine.” You gritted out through your teeth, rocking back and forth as your body began to try and push your child out. The doctor warned you to stop but you couldn’t fight it, every muscle in your abdomen tightening as you looked at your mate, frightened. “Eris, please.”

“Are you asking me to decide between my mate and my child?” Eris whispered, face pale as the healer nodded. As another scream tore from your throat he was suddenly pulled back into a long-forgotten memory, his hands shaking as your body was transformed into his mother's.

“We need to get the High Lord. He has to decide.” The healer mumbled to his assistant as the Lady of Autumn laid on her back, legs spread while guttaral screams tore from her throat. “Hurry, there is no time.”

The healer left the room, poking his head out, only to find a young Eris waiting across the doorway. He immediately stood and walked to the door, palms sweaty. “What is it? Has she given birth?”

“We need your father.” The healer began, voice nervous. “There are complications that-”

Eris jumped when he heard his mother screech in pain, his eyebrows furrowing as he shook his head and tried to get into the room. “My father has left to hunt as he always does. He is not here. What decision needs to be made? Why is my mother not making it?”

“Tradition stands that your father needs to be the one to make the call. How soon can you fetch him?” The assistant pressed, turning when he heard his master calling his name in urgency. “Hurry! The baby is coming!”

“It would take hours. Please, tell me, what is happening?” Eris pleaded, his voice shaking as the assistant looked around for anyone else before sighing and allowing the young man inside. “Mother!”

“Eris,” The Lady of Autumn moaned, her clammy hand reaching out as her body urged her to push. “Eris, the baby…something is wrong-”

“The baby is breech. If it comes down to it, who would your father want to be saved?” The healer bluntly asked, blood staining his hands and forearms. “Who?”

“Should this not be up to my mother? Is this not her body?” Eris asked angrily, holding onto his mother tightly. “It is her decision. Mother, what do you want?”

“It is not-” The healer began but before he could finish the sentence Eris had flames circling his neck, not hot enough to burn but enough to let the man know he had no hesitation in ending his life.

“Do whatever she wants or you will regret it.” Eris threatened, turning to his mom who was watching him with fascination. “Hang on for me. You are so strong.”

She opened her mouth to respond but before she could reply, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she went limp. Eris started shaking her, screaming her name, but she wouldn’t wake up.

The healer jumped into action while the doors flew open, Beron standing in the doorway in his hunting gear as he asked gruffly, “Well? What is it?”

“The babe has not been born yet, my lord. She is having complications and-” The assistant tried to explain but Eris cut him off, slamming his hand on the bed as he looked at his father.

“She is unresponsive. She is losing too much blood.” He spat through his teeth, turning her face towards him in worry. “She’s not going to make it if they don’t get it out of her.”

Beron took a deep breath, watching the flurry of moments of everyone in the room with disinterest, before turning and walking out the door and down the hall. Despite the chaos going on around him all Eris could hear was his father’s footsteps as he walked away from his mother, leaving her to die without a second thought.

As the healer and assistant were finally able to save his mother and deliver the baby, “Lucien” his mother had whispered when she finally came to, Eris swore that he would never, ever become his father.

“My lord?” The healer repeated, Eris blinking rapidly as he was brought back to the present. He turned to look at you, at your large, round belly, and finally at the blood that was dripping onto the floor as you squatted down and wailed.

“You will save both of them or I will have your head. Do you understand?” Eris said quietly, his voice dripping with venom as the man’s face paled and he swallowed thickly. He didn’t wait for a reply before rushing to your side and cupping your face, pressing your forehead against his own as he closed his eyes and breathed.

“I know you’re scared and I know you’re tired, my love. You have been so strong and I just need you to hold on a little longer, okay?” Eris cooed into your ear, wincing as you gripped painfully on his upper arm as the healer instructed you to finally push. “You are an amazing woman and although our child seems to have my stubbornness, I know everything will be alright.”

“Do you promise?” You pleaded, cheeks puffing out as you prepared to push again. “Do you promise everything will be okay?”

“I promise.” He nodded, kissing your cheek before taking your hand and looking to the doctor. “Now push.”

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

“Twins,” You whispered incredosouly as you held them both in your arms, the pillows soft against your back while you rested for the first time in days. “I can’t believe we had twins.”

“We still have to name them…” Eris smiled as he crawled in beside you, careful not to jostle the bed too much as he rested his cheek on the top of your head.

“I’ve already named them.” You smiled sheepishly, turning to the gaze at their sleeping faces. “Say hello to Sienna and Arista.”

“Sienna and Arista,” He hummed, pretending to be in deep thought while you rolled your eyes. “I love it. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You said softly, turning your face to kiss him and basking in the safe haven of your family of four. Eris wrapped his arms around the three of you, squeezing you for a moment before bending down to kiss each of their heads.

“I love you all too.”

#acotar #acotar reader #eris week 2023 #erisweek2023 #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris #eris acotar fic #eris x reader acotar #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x reader acotar #eris fic #eris imagine #acotar fic #acotar fic reader #acotar fanfiction

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mllemarianne · 2 years ago

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Deserving

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Strong!Reader

Part 1: Deserving Part 2: Indulging Part 3: Striving

Summary: When you are betrothed to another, Aemond doesn’t want to address it strangely. Annoyed by his reaction, you reminisce about your whole relationship and everything that led to this very night, during the storm, in a tiny inn room with only one bed…

Word count: 11.5k

Warnings: Angst and tension (so much), fluff and smut (4.5k words of it!) Slow burn, forced proximity, mutual pinning, friends to lovers. English is my second language.

N/A: The way Aemond was portrayed on the show broke my heart. I felt like writing an angsty, emotional and smutty little story about how Aemond’s childhood trauma would affect his relationship with the love of his life. House Strong is alive and no war is afoot in this story. Hope you like it! Masterlist | AO3

“Won’t you say anything at all, my prince?” you asked, your head on his shoulder, looking in his deep violet eye to gauge his reaction.

He opened his mouth hesitantly but avoided your stare. He pressed his lips in a hard line, exhaled loudly through his nose and looked back ahead, concentrating on getting the both of you through this raging storm with Vhagar.

He kept to himself what he was about to say. Again.

You knew you spoke harshly, and you knew how he hated it when you used a formal title to address him. But after all these years, after everything, you thought he was simply aggravating.

You grew up together. You were Aemond’s only real friend, even, so he knew of your short temper and your sharp tongue. He was the same. Yet you could not help but feel heartbroken at the silence he served you this very moment. One thing was certain: you were leaving and it did not please him.

You thought telling him the news after a nice day of flying around and visiting the Stormlands was a good idea. If you were honest with yourself, you hoped he would finally snap and do something. Anything.

It became a nightmare instead.

The storm was terrible and getting worse by the minute. Drenched from head to toe, your whole body was shaking uncontrollably from the cold. It seemed like you would never be warm again, even if you were on top of a gigantic fiery beast like Vhagar, even as your whole front was pressed against Aemond’s back with your arms circling his waist.

Soaring in the sky on your way back to the Red Keep, you yelpt as the dragon nearly hit a mountain hidden in the dark clouds.

“We have to stop, it is too dangerous.” Aemond warned you before the dragon instantly dived for a clearing near a small village. Holding onto him even tighter, you were absolutely terrified of being thrown off the beast’s back when you landed harshly in some meadow.

He grabbed you by the waist to ease your landing as you jumped down the large net fixed to Vhagar’s side. He went near the dragon’s head, pressed a hand to her scales and softly spoke some words in high valyrian to her.

Brilliant. His dragon got more words out of him than you did.

Vhagar seemed to cover herself with one of her large wings as she laid down on the wet grass. When Aemond walked back to you, you raised one hand and adjusted his hood over his head in order to hide his distinctive long silvery hair.

He looked at you with softness in his eye and you heard the faintest of "hm" escape from his chest before he turned around.

You walked fast in the downpour. The silence getting unbearable, you decided to tell him more about your father’s plans.

“The Reach has nice weather, I suppose.” he said, after a long pause.

“...Not as nice as King’s Landing’s don’t you think?” “Maybe you're right…” he replied.

You spoke of never seeing him again and he wanted to discuss the weather?

Tears started to pool in your eyes and you knew your voice would soon start trembling. You stopped talking altogether and walked silently in the heavy rain until you reached what could only be an inn.

“Only one room left, I’m ’fraid. You want it anyway?” asked the innkeeper. Seeing you shivering, he poured ale in two cups and handed you one. Aemond refused. You accepted.

“We’ll take it. And some wine, if you have it.” Aemond answered, dropping a few coins on the counter.

The old man then turned to you.

“How ‘bout you, girl?” he inquired, looking straight down at your soaked dress clinging to your body. "You’re not bad lookin. D’you have time for me later? How much? Love me self some curly hair—.”

“She’s mine,” Aemond growled before you could answer. He moved to shield you from the innkeeper’s wandering eyes and put a hand on his sheathed knife. “And you will not address her in this manner ever again, do you understand?”

He sounded calm. You could not see his face but you knew he looked anything but. Your hand reached for his arm, the one grasping the knife. There was no need for bloodshed, what if there were no other place you could go to in this damn storm? He did not budge, eye fixed on the innkeeper.

“The room, please. Now.” He insisted.

The tension was high, and other patrons began to look your way. The innkeeper seemed to chew on his cheek, definitely not liking the way his customer had threatened him. After what felt like an eternity, the old man grabbed a jug full of wine and handed it to Aemond.

"Upstairs, follow me."

Down a small corridor, you stopped in front of a wooden door. The innkeeper gave Aemond the key and left without a word. Not even looking at you.

The room surely was not as spacious as the one you had in the Red Keep. It was clean, at least, which was a relief in itself as you felt grubby from all the rain and mud. There were two armchairs and a table in front of a large hearth where a fire burned brightly. Gods be good, you thought.

Aemond put down the wine jug on the table and looked around. Then he saw it too.

There was only one bed. The smallest bed your both very privileged selves had ever seen, in fact.

“Take it,” he said under his breath. You see him peeling his hood from his leather clad tunic, leaving it carelessly on the floor. He put down his knife on the table before he slouched in an armchair, throwing his head back and closing his eye.

“Don’t be ridiculous, there’s enough space for the both of us. We used to nap together in the gardens all the time when we were younger, what’s the difference?” you replied.

“It wouldn’t be proper.” he mumbled, to which you chuckled slightly.

You just spent the day clinging to his whole body while flying around on Vhagar’s back. How proper was it when he would let you feel every muscle he had on his chest while you held onto him. How proper was it when you buried your nose in his neck and he sighed. You felt his heart beating faster every time your hands changed spots, trying to warm them. He could not possibly be serious with his talk of propriety.

“It’s only me, Aemond.”

“You are betrothed.” he said in a cold tone he never used with you before.

Now you were the silent one.

You looked at him for a while, frozen in place. In all these years, had he never thought of marrying you?

You were betrothed to another, and he acted as if it was a matter of no importance. You were leaving King’s Landing and he would not address it. All he had to do was say the words you longed to hear. “Stay”, for one...

“You are staring” he taunted, startling you with his mixed signals.

You turned around but still glanced at him from the corner of your eye. Truthfully, you could not stop looking at him. His neck… his jawline… the rain gave curls to his long hair cascading down the backrest of his armchair… You were particularly fond of his hair like that. It was a rare sight.

“Sorry if I was expecting you to be civilized and have a conversation with me.” you sneered. “You know, while we still can. ”

How could he be so calm? Nobody knew where you were. A prince, his dragon and the daughter of the Hand were missing. You imagined your father would be absolutely mortified. Then again, he knew you. You were not one to follow the rules and getting stuck in a storm was exactly the kind of tomfoolery he would expect from you. Somehow, this time, it seemed worse.

Both of you were drenched; confined to one small room; completely alone, in the middle of nowhere.

But as bad as it was, you thought it was the perfect situation. You could both have what you always wanted. So why was he holding back?

She’s mine, he said. His words kept echoing in your head.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Still shivering, you knew the only way to ever feel warm again was to let your dress dry. Only, of all the scenarios you built in your head about your adventures in the Stormlands, undressing in front of him was not what you imagined— No. No, that was a lie.

You imagined it. You imagined it almost every night lately, in fact.

At the hour of owl, while you laid naked on the large bed in your chambers, you imagined his hands roaming free on your body. You would pretend he caressed your hardening breasts, pressed his curled lips on the most intimate part of you… you would even whisper his name ever so faintly when reaching your peak with your fingers…

All of a sudden, you felt like you were burning. You poured yourself a cup of wine and gulped half of it, for confidence if anything.

If he would not say a thing, then you would take charge. You waited long enough for this.

You remembered when it began, when you were 13 years of age...

Both of you felt left out when all the children went to the dragon pit. Not having a dragon was particularly hard for Aemond. His older brother and nephews were bullying him incessantly for it. It made him hopeless, like he was not a real Targaryen. However, the time he did not spend on dragonback, he spent with you.

Every evening, you would be in the library, trading books you enjoyed. Your father was a scholar and knew the importance of giving an adequate education to both his sons and daughters. It also meant you could train in the yard with the other boys.

You were good. Aemond was better.

Sometimes, the both of you would sneak into the kitchens at night to steal pastries and enjoy them secretly in the gardens.

One night in particular, while you laid in the tall grass and looked at the starry sky with bellies full of lemon cakes and candied plums, he propped up on one arm, grabbed your neck and swiftly kissed you.

Stunned, you giggled. He shrugged, embarrassed.

Filled with remorse, you grabbed his tunic, pulled him closer and kissed him back. He seemed shocked, but you found a glimpse of relief in his gaze.

Then you licked half his face in retaliation.

Laughing loudly, you almost woke the entire castle as you chased each other through the echoing stone hallways. You were both so young, but you never forgot that moment. How it had been strange to have him press his lips on yours but also how you secretly enjoyed it.

Or not so secretly. After that, he liked teasing you. Sometimes, when you would least expect it, and in the most inconvenient of places, he planted a kiss on your lips. Everytime, he stepped back to enjoy your reaction; the flush on your cheeks, your surprised stare and most of all, he waited to see if you would kiss him back. Once, Ser Criston almost caught you playing that little game when you were training with daggers. You had the upper hand, but as you were about to say “yield”, he distracted you with his kiss and the next thing you knew, you hit the ground, bested by your opponent.

Then came that night.

You were not there when it happened. While he did something extraordinary and claimed the largest dragon in the world, his nephews and nieces saw it as arrogance and resented him bitterly. The siblings argued that the lady Rhaena should have been the one to claim her mother’s dragon.

But “Dragons are no slaves. A bond can not be forged purely out of legacy,” you remember reading in a book once.

Fists balled up, knives came out and blood was drawn. Everybody gathered in the hall, including you and your father the Hand. Now the adults were fighting too.

You learned that Aemond called his nephews bastards. But that was not all. He also claimed they were your older brother’s bastards.

Even though it pained you to hear such slander, you were more concerned about your friend. You knew something bad happened. You could see blood all over his tunic. Unfortunately, every time you tried to approach him, he turned his head around so you could not see.

Then Queen Alicent attacked Princess Rhaenyra, asking for her son’s eye in retribution. It dawned on you that Aemond lost an eye that night.

He scurried out of the hall with his mother and Ser Criston in tow before you could speak to him. You tried to go to his room but he would not let you in.

Claiming Vhagar was a big deal. He had a dragon now. His most ardent wish came true. You knew he would want to tell you all about it. You even imagined traveling to King's Landing on dragonback with him.

To your dismay, Driftmark slowly disappeared in the fog as you stood on the ship deck. Alone.

You saw Vhagar rise from Driftmark’s sandy beach dunes and fly way up above you. The beast was so large, its shadow made it seemed like it was night for a moment. You watched as the dragon disappeared in the horizon with your friend as well. Then and there, you almost felt like he was stolen from you.

You only saw him again when you got to King’s Landing two days later. He wore a bandage on half his head and you wondered why he had to cover such a large portion of his face.

With hindsight, you realized he did not wish for you to see him at his worst. You knew about the eye, but not the long scar that now marred his face.

His wound eventually healed but some insensitive comments took their toll on him, you assumed.

“They saw me without the bandage. They are scared of me,” he once said to his mother, not knowing you heard from across the room.

“You are not scary, my sweet boy.” replied Queen Alicent, embracing her precious son in her arms. “Ask y/n. If your own mother can’t convince you, then maybe she will. Just be mindful of your words. They can be harsh sometimes. Despite the many rumors surrounding her brother and Princess Rhaenyra, don’t slander her house. She will grow to resent you.”

He nodded. And he showed you his face that day.

First, you noticed the eyepatch. But then you saw the long scar that went from his forehead to his jaw. Oh how he looked at you intensely, searching for any glimpse of disgust on your face.

All he found was sorrow.

You could not even begin to imagine the pain he went through. You almost felt it yourself.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you… does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. It’s numb, mostly. I did try to do something with… you know–” he said, pointing at the leather eyepatch. “– but a few servants saw me and they looked terrified…I’ll have to get used to wearing it.” When you asked what he meant, he reluctantly took off the eyepatch and showed you. Where his right eye should have been was now a gemstone. The biggest you had ever seen, in fact.

“It’s beautiful, Aemond,” you admitted, genuinely. Truth be told, you were mesmerized. It looked nice, stylish even. “It’s a sapphire, isn’t it? I like it, it matches the colors of my house.”

Sadly, your kind words of reassurance did not appease him. Thereafter, you only ever saw him with the eyepatch. Your words did have an impact on him, however.

As you got to the library one night, you found a velvet pouch on the desk you usually sat at.

“You said it was the color of your house.” he spoke, shy.

In the pouch was a silver necklace with dangling pearls and a beautiful blue sapphire in the middle. Seeing how you loved it, Aemond gave you the most genuine smile you had seen him do since the accident.

You tried to kiss him as you so often did, but you stopped the moment you saw the look in his eye. He seemed uneasy. You held his hand instead and thanked him. You never wore anything else.

Then, things started to change.

Soon enough, you both were 18 years of age...

Aemond’s whole demeanor changed, in fact.

You saw how people were looking at him. How they stared at the eyepatch instead of his eye when talking to him. The fake compliments he received and the snickers when they walked away from him.

You knew it affected him greatly but he never let it show. He became calm and collected. He kept his sharp tongue for his nephews and nieces though. You knew he still held a grudge after all these years and frankly, you could not blame him. But for someone so clever and calculating, sometimes he did not think.

“Come. Let us drain our cups to these three Strong Boys,” he said once, in front of the whole Targaryen family, including you, during dinner.

It started a brawl. Again.

Wounded by the harshness of his words thrown about your family, you stood up and left.

Resenting the people responsible for his missing eye was one thing, but did he have to bring your older brother into this once more? If that is what he thought of your house, what could he be thinking of you then?

Realizing all too late he hurt you in the process, Aemond followed you to your chambers and begged for your forgiveness.

You did, for he was your dearest friend and seeing him beg was a sight in itself. You knew he did not mean to cause you pain, but you warned him that you would not have any more of it.

After that, he was very careful with his words around you. Sometimes, he was awfully silent even. Words against House Strong cost him an eye once and resentment from you that night at dinner, afterall. So often he would answer with a simple “hm” now. It was infuriating, sometimes.

You felt his struggle. You hoped you could blow the cobwebs away by planning various adventures with him. You would leave on dragonback and visit neighboring regions. You drank dornish wine in fields of flowers; climbed mountains to enjoy the view; bathed in springs definitely too cold to be bathed in. He seemed more at ease when you were alone. He smiled, he jested. Ah you loved having him all to yourself.

Claiming Vhagar gave him so much confidence. Even Prince Aegon would not dare bully him now that Aemond was taller and stronger than him. He was an even better fighter too.

You still trained with the sword together in the morning. If you were honest with yourself, you liked training in the yard because you got to see Aemond in his training gear. He indeed grew taller. His shoulders were broader. His voice got deeper. He kept his hair long now too. He looked ethereal. You loved watching him practice his knife tricks, particularly how he spinned the handle between his now long and slender fingers.

You also loved to train with daggers because you would get closer to him. Swords kept you away but fighting with daggers and knives was so much more intimate. Sometimes you would let him beat you only to be held in his arms. Something about him pressing his body to yours while commanding you to yield made you feel all sorts of ways.

Your septa told you time and time again that it was unladylike, especially at your age, to spend so much time fighting with boys.

You never listened.

There were also rumors that the princes were frequenting brothels in the street of silk. You believed it of Prince Aegon, but you knew Aemond was not for he spent his days in your company. He did have princely duties from time to time, but otherwise, even his evenings remained yours, in the library or in the gardens for a midnight stroll.

The only thing he never did again was kissing you.

You always acted surprised when he did that but in reality, you thoroughly enjoyed it. As the years went on, you began to think it was only a children's game.

Still, you would catch him staring at you quite often now. Once, you caught him glancing at your bosom while you were both reading in the library. He blushed so hard, you thought he stopped breathing all together.

It was you teasing him now.

Deep down, you knew how he felt about you. You felt the same way too. Maybe he just needed some encouragement.

You started with new dresses. They were tighter, low-cut and showed much more of your now adult body. You also decided that, from time to time, you would show up to your evening reading sessions in the library in nothing but your best nightgown and the necklace he gave you now resting in the valley between your plump breasts.

The first time he saw you so inappropriately dressed, you were delighted by his reaction. He did not blink once. He looked you up and down, greeted you and then never averted his eye from his book. He was holding onto the binding with such force his knuckles turned white. Even as you looked in his eye, there was no movement.

“Whatever is the matter, your grace?” you teased, using a formal title.

The prince was so shocked he could no longer read the wise words of Maester Octavis on warfare during Maegor The Cruel’s reign. He cooled down after a while…

…but it was your turn to burn now.

You pretended to be absorbed in your readings on the free cities of Essos, but you were only looking at his hands. The way his veins popped when he flexed his fingers; how he pinched the corners to turn a page; the slight stimming…

You were grateful your father never pressed the matter of marriage with you. As it happened, you reminded him so much of your late mother that he loved having you around in the Red Keep. He told you once he would wait for the perfect match and nothing else. Part of you hoped Aemond would eventually step up and ask for your hand.

Suddenly, the lords of the realm wanted to dance with you at balls and asked for your favor at tourneys. The attention you got overwhelmed you quite a bit. You tried dancing with potential suitors, but you weren’t remotely interested in any of them. Only your prince.

Aemond often swept in to make sure you were okay and that no lords were bothering you. Every time, he dared dance so close to you, you did not know how proper it was.

But did you care? Not really.

You could smell his hair. He smelled of amber and sandalwood. Each time, his scent would drive you mad with lust. The things you imagined him doing to you… and you to him. Not that you were well versed in the art. You had only ever touched yourself… thinking of him.

Thinking of his fingers trailing on your skin; his lips leaving burning kisses on your neck; his hands everywhere on your body but especially between your legs; you holding him close, so close you could feel every part of him, get lost in his scent, in his heat…

Despite your blatant inexperience… you had seen things.

One day, Aemond let you sit in front of him on Vaghar while you got back from one of your adventures near Gulltown. Riding Vhagar was an exhilarating experience in itself, but your mind was focused on the dragon behind you.

While you held the reins, Aemond held you. Tight.

You felt his breath on your neck. He nuzzled your shoulder. His warm hands sometimes caressed your sides, so close to your breasts… you could be wrong, but you swore he sighed at some point.

When you got back, Aemond had princely duties and could not join you in the library that evening.

You were rarely left to your own devices, it was unusual. The castle being so large, you decided to explore the wings you never go to to pass the time.

The east tower was barely lit. It was late and its corridors were deserted even though you were close to the ever so busy servants quarters.

Then you heard noises. Voices, maybe? It kept echoing on the stone walls and vaulted ceilings.

You walked quietly to locate where it came from and happened upon two servants entwined in the throes of passion. Or at least, that is what you thought it was for you could barely see them in the dark. You were so curious, you could not help but peek.

Well hidden in a corner, the woman leaned against a wall, bunching her skirt up to her waist while the man seemed to devour her cunt. One leg over his shoulder, she was shuddering and mewling under his ministrations, completely lost in her pleasure. It was only after she moaned even loudly that the man let go of her shaking thighs, stood up, cupped her face with both hands and kissed her longingly.

Your whole body froze when you recognized the man’s long silvery white hair.

He turned her around and snaked his arms around her waist while he left searing kisses on her neck and shoulder. She bent over as he hurriedly unlaced his pants, kicking her feet so she spread her legs more.

You could not see from your angle but from the sounds that escaped her mouth, he took her.

Hard.

And she loved it.

You heard the lewd sound of flesh slapping while he pounded into her. He grunted as his fingers dug in her waist. His hair was untied and messy like you had never seen.

When you started panting yourself, you looked away. You knew you were witnessing something you should not. You made sure they could not hear the sound of your steps as you left the scene.

You did hear one more thing, though. Something that left you in quite a state.

He moaned your name.

You felt such a heat in your belly that you thought you were on fire. You never looked at him the same after that. You knew he burned for you as well. But why was he seeking pleasure in the arms of others when you were right there.

That night in your bedchambers, even as you gripped your sheets, writhing, moaning and coming for the third time… you thought your fingers would not do anymore.

You wanted more.

And you wanted him.

A little before your twentieth name day- yesterday, in fact...

Your father told you about your betrothal. The eldest son of Lord Martyn Tyrell of Highgarden was young, handsome, kind, educated, great with the sword and heir to his father’s title and castle. Your father had finally found you a match he deemed worthy of you. You were also to leave King’s Landing in a moon turn to meet your future lord husband and acquaint yourself with your new home. You felt your world shattering under your feet.

“Aemond is the man I wish to marry,” you declared.

“It’s Prince Aemond, to you. Don’t forget your place,” he corrected you. “And you know I can’t abuse the power the king conferred on me as Hand to arrange a match like that. My sweet girl, I know the prince is dear to you… but it is he who should ask the king for permission to marry you. Not me.”

That evening, you did not go to the library.

You cried in your bed until your head hurt, clutching the sapphire and pearl necklace Aemond gave you. When you heard him knocking on your door later, you felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m fine,” you said through the door, trying to calm your shaky voice. “I was simply tired. Goodnight, Aemond.”

“Goodnight, y/n… see you in the training yard then.”

You did not go to train with him the next morning either.

You dreaded the moment when you would have no choice but to tell him. The sun was not high in the sky when he knocked on your door again. This time you answered. He looked you up and down, surprised to see you in a riding dress. “I missed you at training,” he confessed. “Going somewhere?” “Let’s leave the city for the day.” You said. “Do you think Vhagar would like to visit the Stormlands? I hear the water is so clear in Tarth they call it the sapphire isle.” “With all due respect, ‘tis I who decides where I fly my dragon, my lady,” he replied playfully, but you still felt a little ashamed of your boldness. “But yes, as you wish.”

And here you were. Struck in an inn, somewhere in the Stormlands, with a silent prince...

He almost seemed asleep in his armchair in front of the fire. You could not bear the silence anymore. If he had feelings for you, then you would make him speak plainly.

You downed the last half of your cup before you started undressing. First, your cloak.

As you hung it on a hook on the wall, you peeked at your prince. To your surprise, he did not move an inch. You can only see one of his hands stimming slightly on the armrest.

Your boots were next— a real agony considering how soggy they were and how painfully long it took to unlace them. Leaving wet footprints on the floor, you walked to the hearth and let them fall loudly in front of the fire. Your eyes flutter again to Aemond.

No reaction.

At this point, you did not know if you were annoyed or downright infuriated. You looked at the small bed again and you could only think about him taking you like he did that maid.

You shook your head. You had to focus.

Tugging at the strings at your waist, your skirt pooled at your feet, thus revealing your legs. Thankfully, you had a small linen shift underneath, barely covering you down to your knees. You were putting down the skirt on the wooden table when you noticed it. Finally.

Even if the room was dark, only lit by the fire and the moonlight, you spied one violet eye gazing at you intently.

For a moment, you feared he could hear your heart beating frantically. His silence affected you greatly, but you found comfort in the fact that he could not resist looking at you undressing. Men seemed to be simple creatures, afterall.

You tried to unbutton the bodice of your dress but the stiff fabric made it hard for you to reach back. Why did clothes have to be so complicated to put on and take off. It dawned on you that you would need his help to get out of this wet mess of a dress.

Turning around quickly, thinking you would catch him staring, you saw his head facing the other way. You approached and stood between him and the fire. The shadow you casted made him look at you.

"I need your help. Would you unbutton my bodice please." you managed to say calmly.

His stare was hard to decipher but he seemed conflicted. First he looked into your eyes… then his gaze fell down to your bodice… next it wandered to the silhouette of your legs. He could see every curve of your body, the fire behind you glowing through your white shift. You felt naked under his stare.

He looked serious. So serious his left hand stopped stimming. Slowly, he rose from the armchair and waited for you to turn around.

And you did. You were waiting for him to make a snarky comment or jest about what a proper lady you were, but again, you were cursed with silence.

There were at least 15 buttons that went all the way down to your lower back. You felt his calloused hands brushing against your neck as he parted your long hair. A small sigh escaped your lips.

He went through each button at an excruciatingly slow pace. You hoped he felt the goosebumps appearing where his fingers touched you. The frisson was almost unbearable.

When he got to the last button, he froze momentarily. You could not take it anymore.

You turned around quickly, got up on your toes, reached for his neck and crashed your lips onto his. Just as he used to do when you were younger. His lips were unexpectedly soft. Not what you remembered, but better. You wished the kiss lasted longer, but now you waited for his reaction.

He only ever looked at you without blinking. He exhaled loudly, looking down at your bodice dangling off your shoulders, revealing the rest of your shift. His eye darkened and you were now worried you angered him.

“Y/n, please,” he pleaded. He sounded desperate and vexed all at once.

The dam burst.

"I am sorry Aemond. I know I spoke harshly when we were on Vhagar but this is ridiculous. I need to know how you feel about me leaving King’s Landing. I’m to leave for The Reach in a moon turn. I’m leaving, Aemond.” You said over and over to make sure he heard you loud and clear. “I understand if you hate me right now but I can’t stand the silence. I won’t have it. We will discuss this."

“I could never– hm– hate you.” he replied, startled mid sentence as you snatched the bodice off of you and threw it on the table behind him. Only wearing the shift and the necklace he gave you, you stood tall even if he towered over you.

“I’M LEAVING.” You repeated, losing patience.

“I KNOW.” He growled, losing his legendary calm and jolting you.

“Then say something!” you pressed, grabbing his tunic with both hands. “I don’t want to go to The Reach, Aemond. I want to stay in King’s Landing with you. I want you.”

There, you said it. Eye wide open, he looked down at you, then at your hands tugging at his clothes.

“Your days are mine already,” you said, pulling him to you, pressing your whole body to his. “I wish to claim your nights too.”

He seemed hesitant but mostly, he looked panicked. He clenched his jaw and his lips twitched as though he was about to say something so incriminating he feared putting it into words.

His hands found your waist, rumpling the fabric of your shift. You slowly melted into his warm embrace. His breath was ragged. You waited for his answer. Your heart was about to burst from the anticipation.

“Say it. Say you want me too.”

And you waited some more. You could not draw breath. He tensed, opening his mouth to speak but not a single word coming out. Feeling the tears coming, you bit your lip to stop your chin from quivering.

Just like you knew he would, he stayed silent.

“Fine,” you abdicated. “Then I bid you goodnight, my prince ”.

You let go of his tunic but he held on to your arms. You angrily twisted yourself to get out. You held each other's gaze while you unceremoniously took off the necklace he gifted you and threw it on top of your discarded dress. You climbed in the bed, pulled the covers and turned to face the wall.

It is said that silence is louder than words, sometimes. Well this time, it was deafening.

From his shadow on the wall, you saw he did not move an inch. With cheeks wet from fresh tears, you curled up, desperately looking for warmth but the damn stone wall was so cold. It made you even more angry. In all your life, you had never felt so exasperated.

The silence stopped when you heard him pour wine in a cup. He drank it all. Then he started to undress.

You heard the thudding of his boots hitting the floor, one after the other… then the clinging of metal clasps… the creaking of his leather tunic… the clattering of his belt and pants hitting the floor…then silence again.

Unexpectedly, the sheets moved, sending cold air on your shivering body. You felt him hastily lying down on the bed next to you. You don’t know what came over you, but you said it anyway.

“I thought it would be improper”, your sharp tongue throwing his own words back at him.

“You are freezing,” he muttered.

He pressed his whole front to your back and rubbed your arm with his hand. When he buried his face in your neck, some of his long hair fell in front of you and you got overwhelmed by his amber and sandalwood scent. His breath on your shoulder sent shivers down your spine and almost made you arched your back into him. You were awfully confused, tears on your cheeks but desire brewing inside you.

You wished you had the will to pull away but you craved his touch. His hands were on you. Touching you, rubbing you, caressing you, now down your side.

For a daughter of House Strong, you sure were weak this instant.

He chose this moment to finally speak.

“You don’t want me, y/n.”

These few words gave you the strength to turn around and look him in the eye. His mixed signals were simply baffling. It almost drove you mad.

Though, when your gaze fell upon his face, you thought he looked defeated. You noticed he kept his undershirt and his eyepatch but wore nothing else.

“Is that an order, my prince?” you asked defiantly, tears still in your eyes.

“Just look at me.” He said harshly.

“That’s all I’ve been doing for years, Aemond.”

“You can’t possibly want this.” he said, making a gesture at his head.

You cupped his face with your dainty fingers. Distressed as he was, he still welcomed your gentle touch. Then your hand traveled upwards and you hooked a finger beneath the leather band of his eyepatch. You waited for him to give you permission. “Let me see all of you.”

After a few seconds, he nodded. Uncovering his sapphire eye, it glinted with the light from the creaking fire. He closed his good eye when the pads of your fingers grazed his marred cheek. And when he felt your lips on the bottom of his scar, his breath caught in his throat.

“Why do you think I’d wear a damn nightgown to the library when it’s in the coldest part of the castle?” you asked in his ear, your cheek resting on the scarred side of his face. He sighed. One of his hands found your waist, pulling you slightly to him.

“Why do you think I was kissing you back when you teased me?” you added, reaching for his hair tie. His long silvery-white hair fell around his face.

“Aemond, I’ve been throwing myself at you for years now.”

“I know… I’m missing an eye, I’m not blind.”

Then you get it.

“Is that why you grew so distant? Do you think me so feeble that I would begrudge you for missing an eye?”

“Everybody does,” he admitted with a bitterness that crushed your heart. “Why do you think I train with the sword, study history and philosophy, and ride a huge fucking dragon daily? I have to be all of those things so people can see me as a man.”

“I don’t care about all that. Two eyes, one or even none, I don’t care. I just want you.”

“I don’t want that for you, don’t you understand?” he snapped, cupping your face with both of his hands, forcing you to look him straight in his eye. “You want to be married to the court’s freak? Is that what you want? To be the lady wife of the scary one-eyed prince? Hearing people snickering behind your back? See them turn around when you are coming their way with me at your arm? The nosy court ladies asking if I keep the eyepatch on all the time, even when I fuck you? You want that?”

At the sound of his harsh words, you circled your arms around him and held him close to you. Your words failed, but maybe your actions would prevail.

Your face buried in his neck and hair, you knew he needed the embrace more than you did. You felt his arms caging you in, even a leg wrapping around yours.

You knew it was bad, but you had no knowledge of how bad it really was. He never spoke about these things.

“There will come a day when you will resent me for casting this burden upon you and I could not bear to see you grieve a life free from relentless mockery.” He said in your ear. “I didn’t encourage you… because I knew you couldn’t possibly be happy with a cripple for a husband.”

“Stop it.” you whispered in his ear, silent tears streaming down your cheeks again.

You stayed like this for a long time. He nuzzled your shoulder, breathed in your scent, clinged to your whole body with his fingers stroking your hair and back. He craved your touch. He needed comfort. He spoke of sparing you, yet he undoubtedly desired naught but you.

You fell asleep in each other’s arms. It was far from what you imagined it would be like, but at last, you claimed one of his nights.

It was almost morning...

When you woke up, the sky was light but the sun had yet to rise. The storm passed and warm fresh air flowed in from the open window. It seemed like a beautiful summer day was about to begin.

All warmed up in Aemond’s embrace, you realized he never let go of you throughout the night. Now facing away from him, your legs were tangled, his arm laid limply around your waist and his face rested in your neck. His breath fanned your shoulder soothingly.

You felt at peace, a smile curling your lips. But despite his comforting heat appeasing you, your mind could only focus on one thing: his manhood.

Long, hard… and keenly digging in your backside.

You wiggled a bit. He only grunted and you felt his hand coming up to hold one of your breasts. Arching into him instinctually, you pressed yourself against him even more. You could not help yourself, you began to rock your hips slightly.

Sleep could never be found again, not while you were so intimately entwined.

“Stop doing that,” huffed a husky voice behind you. “Doing what?” you probed, your hand now gently rubbing his hip though his undershirt.

He let go of your breast and went for your neck instead, squeezing it lightly with his slender fingers.

You were definitely awake now. Awake and burning.

“I’m trying to stay proper, but you make it really hard,” he said gruffly.

“That I know” you answered with a chuckle, ignoring his warning and still rocking your backside against his stiff cock. “What a poor choice of words.”

The hand gripping at your throat went to your hip instead to stop your sweet torture.

But with your skin so soft, your scent so enticing and your nearly naked body obviously craving his touch, he started grinding into you too.

“Yes, very proper of you.” you taunted him.

You felt every inch of his through your linen shift. He seems big, you thought. The prospect of finally having him left you in such a state. You desired him so ardently you clenched your thighs together to prevent your slick from dripping down your leg. He nuzzled your neck, bit it too, making a mewling mess out of you.

It took all your will to stop him. As much as you were enjoying this, you felt like things were not settled yet. You sat in the bed and gazed upon him, a questioning look lingering on his face.

“Let me say it again, so you will believe me this time. You feel like you have to spare me somehow, but I won’t even entertain the idea. I’m a strong lady, am I not?”

He looked at you attentively.

“You are the only man I have ever desired. I want you. ” It took a moment, but from his lips came your salvation.

“I was always yours,” he confessed, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers.

You felt it through your bones. His intense gaze went to your mouth, fixed on the plump of your lips. His hand reached for your face and cupped it gently, his thumb brushing your cheek lovingly.

He knew you would not accept any more arguments from him. The fact that you wanted him in spite of everything was baffling, but he lacked the strength to fight it anymore. He surrendered himself to you, for he was undeniably yours and you were inexplicably his.

“Then claim me.” you pleaded, yearning for his touch.

“I’ll make my demand to the King the minute we get back. I’ll speak to your father as well. The Tyrell boy can go fuck himself.” he said, brushing away your hair from your face. “You will be mine. You have my word.”

You were overcome with relief. King’s Landing was your home. It was where you read books, trained with the sword and where your prince was. And now, Aemond Targaryen wanted you to wife. Gods be good, it was everything you had ever wanted… but…

“The gods know I waited a long time for this… but I wasn’t talking about that…” you confessed, looking at him seriously. Holding his gaze, you moved to straddle him..

“Y/n!” he yelped, astonished yet incredibly aroused by your audacity. His hands went straight to your hips to stabilize you. You felt his cock brushing against your folds and you almost lost it.

“I-I saw you once,” you confessed, looking down at him. “...with a maid… In the east tower.”

He froze at your statement, but that did not stop you. You grabbed the bottom of his undershirt.

“I heard you scream my name.” you said, pulling on the fabric to tease him. He clenched his jaw.

His hands fisted your white shift as well. He looked at you with fire in his eye, and not one you can easily extinguish. His composure hung by a thread. Lips parted, he looked at you like you were a goddess. You almost had him. He throbbed against your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine.

You bent down and your hardened nipples brushed against his chest though your linen shifts. Your mouth ghosting his, you inched up every time he tried to close the gap. You went to kiss the underside of his jaw instead. He growled, snaking his scorching hot hands on your back, under your shift.

“Don’t you want to know what I feel like?” you said in his ear, gnawing at his lobe. “Hear me scream your name.”

He exhaled loudly. You were most impressed at how good you were at making him unravel. He always loved your feistiness and how strong you were (with no trace of irony). You gave him back the same fiery energy. It was irritating and entrancing in equal measure.

And if you needed to be crass to finally get what you wanted, then so be it.

“I touch myself every night thinking only of you,” you hushed without any shame, tormenting him with a sudden rolling of your hips. “I want to know what you feel like too.”

He cursed under his breath. You could feel his walls crumbling around him. You pressed your forehead against his, keeping your lips awfully close to his. And now, the coup de grace…

“Kiss me… see what I do in return, this time.”

And you had him.

He sank into your touch, grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his lips on yours in a bruising kiss. He devoured you, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease. You hummed into it, feeling the heat flood your whole body. His lips were insistent, desperate to taste you as much as he craved your touch.

You felt his hunger, his despair and his desire all at once. You gave him unreservedly what he denied himself for so long. And he could not get enough of you.

You were his. His to take. His to touch. His to love. And he was yours. Yours to keep. Yours to feel. Yours to cherish.

You attempted to sit back up to rid yourself of your shift but he stopped you.

“Hmm, no. You’ve done enough now.” He muttered.

Without warning, he shifted you– manhandled you, more like– so you were under him. Kneeling between your spreaded legs, he took off his undershirt while you watched eagerly. You bit your lip as you admired his delicate ivory skin, his large shoulders, his toned chest, the V shape of his hip bones…He was divine. His manhood was also revealed to you and your doubts were confirmed. He was well-endowed indeed. Precum leaked from the tip of his long cock and ran down your thigh already. For the first time, nervousness got to you but you did not let it show.

Then he grabbed your shift and proceeded to rip it in half with his bare hands. “Seven hells, was that really necessary?” you asked, knowing full well you woke the dragon.

“I believe so, yes. You’ve been insufferable, my lady.” he reproached you, throwing what was left of the garments across the room. He looked down and took in the view of your naked body laying under him without touching you.

“Insufferable, really?” you smirked, extending your fingers to touch his abdomen but he slapped your hand.

He came down and crushed you under his weight. He kissed your neck, licked it, bit it, sucked at it, anything to leave behind bruises you could hardly hide with your low-cut dresses now. You felt your own wetness leaking down to your backside.

He made known what roused his ire.

“Insufferable, yes,” he said in a low voice, pulling your hair to expose your neck even more. “Missing the morning sparring practice, for instance. Your absence was so distracting, Aegon almost skewered me.”

You chuckled, poking a finger in his side. He slapped your hand again.

Oh he’s actually angry, you thought.

“Dressing inappropriately in the library so I can’t read a damn word of my book,” his tongue flicked your erect nipple while his hand caressed your other breast. “Every time, I went back to my chambers with damp trousers, a hard cock and only my hand to see to it.”

Never had you heard him speak so vulgarly. He grinded into you to show how hard he was for you, brushing against your clit with every thrust. His breath fanned over you and goosebumps popped all over your chest.

“And just now? Coaxing your prince into marriage? Grinding all over him while he tries to stay proper? Very unladylike, but then again… you don’t want to be treated like a lady, don't you?”

His teeth grazed against the column of your neck and he came up to bite your bottom lip.

“I have always liked your insolence, y/n, but I think you are in serious need of discipline.”

“You are no better,” you said, smirking in his kiss, your hips meeting his movements, your bare cunt brushing against his hard cock. “You let my hands roam all over you when we fly on Vhagar. I always end up in your arms when we train with daggers. You glance at my bosom every chance you get, and not so subtly might I add. Don’t you dare claim the moral high ground, my princ— ”

You could not finish your sentence, for his lips captured yours again. He kissed you with an angry passion you did not know he had inside of him. Gone was the calm and quiet prince you knew him to be. You were his, now. And he intended to take everything you would gladly give him.

He reached down and slid a hand between your bodies. You grabbed onto the edge of the bed, gripping it firmly when you felt his thumb parting your wet folds. You moaned into his mouth when he found your clit. He broke the kiss and clicked his tongue.

“Still wet from the storm or is it all because of me?” he inquired, his lips curling in a wicked smile as he made circles around your clit.

“Oh just fuck me, will you.” you cried back, losing your mind under his ministrations.

“Such strong language, I don’t recognize you,” he teased again, loving the way he made you lose your composure with only one finger. “But I need to prepare you for me.”

He pressed his lips to yours, his thumb showing no mercy and your legs quivering. You felt that coil in your stomach. That itch that needed to be scratched so badly. He wanted to take his time. Honorable, but…

“…I-I lost my maidenhead years ago,” you admitted.

He stopped his assault on your lips and your mound all at once to look at you incredulously.

“No, it’s not like that. When Vhagar landed roughly in the rocky valley near Riverrun. These things happen. It’s why I insisted on bathing in the springs, I wanted to get the blood stains off my dress.”

He recalled the both of you bathing fully clothed in a very cold spring somewhere in the Riverlands.

“Still, I want to make sure that you... Enjoy. Every. Second. Of. It.” He said, pushing a finger past your folds, going in and out with each word he said.

You tried to kiss him again but he denied you. You had teased him so much that he wanted nothing more than to punish you with the same torturous treatment. He took pleasure in watching you go insane under him. Just as you drove him mad with desire.

“I like the desperation on you” he said, picking up the pace.

His hands. His damn hands were on and in you. He added a second finger and curled them inside you, the heel of his hand pressing on your clit. You teetered on the brink of madness. He was relentless.

Your thighs started to shake as the pressure built in you. He knew you could take more so he slipped a third finger through your cunt and pumped into you in a steady rhythm. You whined as he tore your walls apart with fingers much larger than yours. You were getting close to your release under his expert hands, for not having control rendered things much more intense.

But as you were close, so close, he pulled out his fingers, your needy cunt clenching around nothing, desperation clear on your face.

“No, no!” you scowled.

He got off the bed and, for a second, you thought he was going to leave you like that. You were no dragon by any means, but you sure felt the rage of one.

“Patience”

He kneeled on the creaky wooden floor and pulled you to the edge of the bed in one swift tug. You watched him hook your legs on his shoulders and lock his arms around your hips. You blushed slightly at the sight of his face so close to your cunt, feeling so exposed as you could not get out of his embrace.

“I wanted to feast on you for years.”

And he carried on his exquisite torment. You threw your head back, lips parted in an O shape as Aemond’s mouth ravaged you eagerly. His nose teased your bundle of nerves while his tongue entered you. Heavy breaths escaped your mouth as you weaved your fingers into his silver hair and pulled his face in closer, not wanting him to stop.

He moaned into your soaked warmth and the vibrations made you arch your back instantly. Pleasure came back to you at great speed, back to where he left off. His tongue went to your clit while he fucked you with his fingers again. You fisted the sheets and writhed violently as you felt yourself going over the edge. Immeasurable pleasure washed over you as you reached your peak, screaming his name for all the inn to hear.

He held you down tightly as your legs shook uncontrollably on either side of his head. Unable to move, you had no choice but to take it. Waves of pleasure hit you one after the other, his fingers still moving in you, allowing you to ride your high till the end. He licked your juices for his own pleasure until you whined and tried to squirm away.

He looked so proud of himself. He loved this power he had over you, to make goosebumps appear all over your skin while ravishing you, to have you jerking your hips as you unraveled on his fingers.

“Fuck. You are… so good.” you told him between pants, heat rising in your cheeks at the mere thought of what he could make you feel with is cock.

He proceeded to leave kisses everywhere on your inner thighs.

“Aemond, I beg you.” you said, pulling on his shoulder. You knew he enjoyed himself immensely, but you were desperate for him to take you.

“Begging? You?” He gasped, not recognizing his Strong Lady, always in control, now wanton and desperate as he laid on top of you again.

Your hand slithered between your bodies and you wrapped your fingers around his weeping cock. You had no idea what you were doing but it had its effect on him. He growled, astounded by your sudden touch. He looked fired up and ready to fuck you through the mattress and the floor.

He grabbed your wrist, indicating you to let go of his manhood. You grabbed his arse instead. He dragged the head of his cock between your folds to spread your slick along his length.

“There is no going back if I take you.” He said, your clit pulsing every time he brushed against your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your heels dug in his backside while your hands held onto his broad shoulders. His long hair fell all over you in a whirlwind of amber and sandalwood. “You will be mine, foreve—”

“I said claim me ”

And he did.

He sheathed himself slowly, gritting his teeth as he sank down, holding himself back from slamming into you all at once. Your eyes widened as he stretched your walls to a point you did not know was possible. You looked down to see he was only halfway in you. He cupped your chin with his rough hand, forcing you to look upon his face instead.

He watched you intently as you took all of him. He slid himself in your cunt inch by inch until he was deeply inside you. Pressing his lips to yours, he muffled your cries.

“I know, I’m sorry. Tell me if it’s too much.”

He stopped moving to let you adjust to his sheer size and he deeply sighed against your cheek. Even with your fingers, you had never reached so deep within you. It did not hurt as much as you thought it would but you felt overwhelmed at the sensation nonetheless.

He cursed under his breath.

“You’re so tight. You clench too hard, I won’t last”, he confessed as you panted in his ear. You felt him pulling back but you locked him in place with your legs and arms.

He gently rubbed your thigh with one hand. He kissed you passionately like the starved man he was, and you eventually relaxed. The pain faded and anticipation took place. You know what must have been minutes felt like hours for him by now.

“Move, I’m fine”

He went slow at first. He searched for your hand and interlocked his fingers with yours. He was so patient with you. After a few thrusts, you started to rock your hips to meet his pace, the familiar feeling of pleasure getting back to your core once more.

“You are so big” was the only thing you could say as your whole mind could not concentrate on anything else.

“But you are taking me so well, my love.”

My love. My love. My love.

He was everywhere all at once. His praise in your ears, his hands on you, his scent all around you, his hair falling on you, his cock in you. Everything was him and you loved every second of it.

When he heard you panting in his ear, he picked up the pace. You whined loudly and he almost lost control of himself. He groaned against your chest, biting one of your nipples for purchase.

You felt yourself quickening already as he rubbed against that one spot that made the fire inside you burn more brightly each time.

You felt self-conscious about the ungodly sounds you were making and bit your lip to muffle your screams. He hit you with one hard thrust in retaliation, hitting so deep you cried out and went numb for a second.

“Don’t you go quiet on me, you said I’d hear you scream my name.”

Gods, what have I done?, you thought. You never imagined him saying these kinds of things to you. He was right. You had been insufferable. You teased a dragon and now, you were paying the price. He liked having control over you for once, holding you down as he fucked you senseless. He claimed your body relentlessly with strong strokes that had your heart racing, his balls hitting your cunt hard each time.

And you loved it.

Your core was tightening with each of his powerful thrust. You were close. So close…when he suddenly left your embrace.

“Don’t you dare stop again!” you yelled at him, your arms desperately reaching for him.

But he only sat on his heels, grabbed one of your legs and hoisted it high against his chest. He wrapped his arm around your ankle and hammered his cock into you, hitting an even deeper angle.

“Fuck,” you wailed, eye widening and tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. You clawed at his hip, overwhelmed by the searing heat growing in you while he filled you to the hilt.

He reached so deep within you, you thought he was in your stomach. It knocked the air right out of your lungs, even. You moaned his name incessantly, the only thing your fuzzy brain seemed to remember this very moment. A veil of sweat appeared on his skin, he was glowing in the morning light now flooding the room.

“You're mine.” he said possessively, his fingers just shy of bruising your skin as they dug in your thigh.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Say you are mine, y/n”.

Head thrown back, eyes closed, you barely registered what he asked of you. His hand went to your lower stomach and he pressed down, making you squirm and cry out.

“I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.” you repeated over and over, trashing under him, overcomed by pleasure.

He worried he was too rough with you but when he heard a pleading “Harder!” escaping from your lips, he forfeited the last thread of sanity he was barely holding onto already.

You held on for dear life while he lost himself completely and slammed into you at a wild pace. He pulled out almost entirely before sliding back in again. His cock reached your cervix. Every. Single. Time.

He growled loudly as your nails left marks on his hip. His breath was erratic, he was close as well. You clenched around him and he cursed loudly.

“Look at me. I want to see your face as I make you come.”

“Come closer.” you managed to say between pants.

He let go of your leg and was over you again, your nipples brushing against his chest. One of his arms was on the side of your head, the other finding your clit to draw circles around it again. Your nails scratched his back, you pulled on his long silvery hair and rocked your hips to meet his unrelenting pace.

“Co-come for me, my love.” he stammered.

And you felt it deep inside you, from your womb to the base of your spine all the way through your whole back, legs, arms and head. Pleasure spreading like dragon fire within you, you reached your peak and it was not like anything you had felt before. Jaw hanging open in pure ecstasy, you could not even draw a breath. Your eyes rolled, your back arched and your whole body shaked.

“Aemond!” you screamed, tears down your cheeks as your orgasm did not stop. His dark eye watched you as you fell apart, praising him.

As you promised him, he heard you scream his name.

He continued with his merciless pace, letting you ride your high. Clutching his shoulders, you pressed your face to his chest and groaned against him.

You barely had any energy left to keep your legs wrapped around his waist. Your whole body went numb and your mind almost blanked.

“I’m close” he said, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. “Do you want me to—”

“I said claim me,” you reminded him, completely overstimulated but feeling pleasure creeping upon you again.

He let out the most tantalizing growl you had ever heard him make. He buried his face in your neck and he came roaring your name. His thrusts got sloppy but he did not stop. He breathed the faintest of “I love you” as you felt his muscles spasming and his cock throbbing.

He filled you with his seed with a few erratic thrust. Combined with the sudden heat deep within you, it was enough to make you see stars one more time.

Heavily panting in your ear, Aemond’s movements slowly came to a halt. He left kisses on your forehead… your cheek… your lips…

“You were perfect,” he murmured.

“So were you, my love.”

You stayed like that for a while. Him still buried in you, crushing you under his weight, and you loving the fullness, mindlessly stroking his hair and back.

You could hear birds outside, the wind in the trees as well. You embraced the peacefulness of it all. Now that was a silence you did not mind.

You slowly caught your breath, observing the pearly sweat on Aemond’s porcelain skin. You felt both his cum and your slick leaking down your cunt. What a mess you made, you could feel how damp that mattress was.

You noticed a low rumble coming from downstairs, a sign that the village was waking up and you needed to return to the Red Keep. Still, you both indulged a little more, not ready for this moment to end.

He left small kisses on your shoulder, listening to your quiet groans. He drew shapes on your arms with his fingers and observed the goosebumps erupting. He frowned when he noticed little scars scattered everywhere from years of sword training with him. You too had scars. A lot of them even. He never knew. You never said.

“Are you ok?” he asked, raising his head to look you in the eyes.

His sapphire eye caught the morning sun flooding the room and made hundreds of small specks of blue light dance all around you. The sight of him like this, all of him, was spellbinding. You answered him with a blissful smile.

“I’m fine, my prince. ” “Stop it with the formal titles.” “It wouldn’t be proper, or so I’ve been told.” You tugged at a strand of his hair.

“Propriety has always been lost on you, I’m afraid.”

He laced his fingers to yours again and brought it to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“So… No regrets?” He asked, not sure if he would like your answer.

“Only that you robbed me of this pleasure for years.” You said playfully, kissing the bottom of his scar. “You?”

He chuckled.

“I didn’t expect you to swear like a bravosi sealord.” he said, leaving a lazy kiss on your lips.

“Only because of how aggravating you were.” you quip.

He surprised you with a thrust to shut you up and, maybe, tempt you into a second round.

The bed itself was also surprised as its legs gave out and you both fell with the mattress on the creaking wooden floor in a loud bang and small clouds of dust engulfing the room.

“Ooh the innkeeper is going to kill you,” you giggled.

“He liked you, maybe you should tell him about it.”

Back in King's Landing...

Your father and Queen Alicent were mortified at the sight of you walking through the doors of the Red Keep nearly a day after you were supposed to come back. Clothes still wet, messy hair and a strong smell of dragon to top it all off. They had spent the night looking for you everywhere.

Queen Alicent seemed oblivious of what transpired during your little adventure in the Stormlands, but your father was no fool. He knew you. He saw you holding hands before you went through the Mud Gate from the beach. The look you exchanged before parting all but confirmed his suspicions. Not to mention your bare arms sticking out from underneath your hood indicated that you were missing a white shift under your dress.

Your prince asked the King, the Queen and your father for an audience immediately. He insisted your betrothal to him was not a request, for he would not take no for an answer.

Your father could not refuse a proposition from a Prince of the crown. Especially when he knew how dear he was to you… and whatever you were up to in the Stormlands.

You married before the moon turned.

At long last… you claimed his nights.

NEXT: Part 2 (Indulging) or see my masterlist.

Thank you for reading!

Leave comments if you wish, I’d love to have feedback. English is my second language.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x reader smut #aemond one eye x reader #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd

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writingsfromhome · 10 months ago

Text

Dos and Don’ts of H Styles

A/N: this story was literally born out of the wifi incident happening to me. It was a weird experience lol but of course it inspired me to write a story around it. Basically you used to work for Harry as a PA and your life was hell. You bump into him in the present but before it unfolds we need to know what happened in the past.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

——————————————

I watch as Winnie types into her phone the number of the guy who’d just hit on her.

“And that’s with a y?” She looks up at him with doe eyes.

“Yea,” he falls for it. He was cute, and she worked a lot I didn’t blame her for taking who she could get. His accent also helped. “What’re you doin’ now?”

“Well,” her eyes slide to me. “Hanging with my girlfriend here.”

He nods at me and I smile, holding up the almost empty glass. “We were just about done for the night though.”

“We were?” Winnie checks in with me.

“Mhm,” I give her an encouraging nod.

Both Winnie and I were employed by musician-turned-actor Oretta Smith. Winnie was her nanny—or childcare companion as she called it, and I worked as Oretta’s executive assistant. It was full-time and demanding as hell but ever since Oretta had her first child a couple months back I’d gotten a lot more breathing room as she minimized her public life and stayed close to home.

This long weekend Oretta was staying with her in-laws and asked us to take it off. I’d already requested the weekend off knowing we were in London but being off at the same time as Winnie was impossible so we’d gone out to celebrate and let loose—9pm and only 2 drinks in, both of us had already started talking about the comfort of our beds. Until flirty dude came up to Winnie.

“What do you say?” Winnie’s new date asks her.

“Aw shucks alright,” Winnie flashes her beautiful smile and hops off the stool. I don’t even see her drop the bills onto the table as she hugs me goodbye and leaves until it’s too late. She’d covered for both of us. Well I’d get her back next time.

I finish the rest of my drink, eyes flicking to the reruns of tonight’s soccer game. This wasn’t the fanciest bar—it was quite homely compared to the ones Winnie and I often found ourselves at. But it was one I used to go to when I worked in London just over a year ago. Being back in the city, despite all the awful memories, pulled me towards the nostalgic comfort of it.

I remember the many dates with my now-ex, the random nights I’d actually get off, and drown myself in drink to forget about my awful employer. Or the birthday and milestone celebrations—especially the ones I started to miss near the end.

I consider walking the few streets over to my old flat. Coincidentally the job I’d gotten wasn’t far from home. The upside was that it made dealing with “emergency” texts from my employer a lot quicker but the downside was it grouped all the traumas I experienced in this beautiful city to a few blocks. I didn’t miss it.

I cut my memory lane rabbit-hole short and decide it was time to order an Uber and get out of here; I had an early train to catch tomorrow.

The bars on my phone flicker up and down as I open the app and continue to refresh it over and over. But my signal remains unstable.

“Stupid phone,” I mutter. I had to update my provider while I was here asap.

“‘Scuse me?” I wave down someone serving drinks. “Have you got wifi here?”

“Yep we do!” She smiles. “Name’s The Violinist and the password’s capital p….”

Her voice grows far away as my blood runs cold and I stare at the list of available wifi networks. I feel myself nod a thank you when she stops talking and she leaves taking the password with her while I’m stuck staring.

My networks:

🔗H’s iPhone

I want to duck down and run away, not spend another second around anything to do with that era of my life. But I also want to hunt him down and show him how much better I was doing after him, despite.

The second instinct wins. Kind of.

I don’t hide away. I scan the dimly lit room and try to spot the familiar head of hair but it’s on the third try that I spot him. And it’s probably because his hair is barely an inch long.

He must’ve cut it recently, I’m surprised. Him without his hair was like Harry Potter without his scar.

The feelings are instantaneous though. The loathing and the need to cry. My heart continues to race as I burn a hole into the side of his head.

He was the devil incarnate and I had thought about him for a second too long just now. And now here he was. What the fuck was a guy like him doing here?

I remember the awful times; the casually cruelty and the late nights he would make me work. His constant criticism. The way my life fell apart because of him. The way I could wring his neck with very little incentive at any given moment.

He had turned my whole life upside down. He ruined me.

Harry Styles wasn’t the sweetheart everyone painted him out to be.

And yet, a flash of a feeling, a fleeting memory I try to keep locked away pushes to the front of my mind.

“Fuck no,” I tell myself. There was no room for fondness when it came to the devil.

About 2 years ago:

I straighten out the blazer, wondering if I should be chic and roll the sleeves up a bit or just keep them down. My reflection shows a nervous mousy girl that’s trying too hard. I throw my hair into a ponytail instead and feel a more like myself. Just as the elevator doors ding open.

I’m in the penthouse suite I would be working out of for the next however long; it was my first day on the job and I was still sorting out my nervous to excited ratio.

After looking for months, I’d landed a PA gig for up-and-coming rockstar Harry Styles. It was a dream come true and everyone was ecstatic for me, most of all my boyfriend who’d helped me land the role.

My boyfriend, Grayson, was a personal trainer to a lot of big names and he’d been keeping his ear to the ground for me. We met a few years ago at the gym of course, I’d still been a student and he worked part-time at the student gym. Back then he was still working to get a better client list.

We’d clicked pretty quickly and Grayson, who was anything but shy, asked me out. Soon after he was telling me he had feelings for me and I’d felt them echo back the same. He was my biggest supporter and when I told him I wanted to take this career path seriously he’d been the first to show me what steps to take to get there.

My true dream was to become a publicist and work with celebrities, but fresh out of post-grad everyone told me I’d need to dive head first and get my hands dirty. And I’d have to do that by finding a PA role for a publicist or an industry person.

“Y/n?” My name interrupts my thoughts. It comes from a disembodied head peeking out from a doorway. “You are y/n right?”

“Yes!” I hurry over. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes. I’m Mr. Styles’ exec assistant, I’m only here for the next,” he looks down at his watch. “Half hour perhaps? So let’s get you sorted before I head out.”

“Oh okay. Sure,” my ears ring, I was going to be alone on my first day. I didn’t even know he had an executive assistant. What was the difference between him and me? What if I screw up and this guy was part of the fallout plan? Shit. “Is Mr. Styles in?”

“Not at the moment, he’ll be in before noon. He has a few appointments this morning. Typically you’d be going with him but he left before you arrived so…next time. Make sure you get any paperwork he received from the appointments and file them in here-“ he points to a room with a filing cabinet. Like an actual cabinet. This was a tight ship. “You sound American. Are you American?”

“Yep,” I debate whether to tell him I stayed after doing my degree here but decide to keep the yapping to a minimum.

I continue following the EA—who I should get the name of, as he points out rooms and overlaps it with info about Mr. Styles’ schedule and routines. A lot of info. My brain felt like it was barely holding on.

I think about the man I was now working for, the one who came into the interview for a brief 10 minutes. Surely that laid-back guy wasn’t the anal mystery man I was getting all these instructions for.

The interview itself had gone pretty smoothly apart from the fact that I nervous-laughed a few times too many. I had gone silent when The Harry Styles had walked into the office. He’d sat beside me at the round table, slouching slightly and flashing me a reassuring smile—I had felt my shoulders dip down immediately.

“So it’s y/n right? I’m pronouncing that correctly?” He’d said in his perfectly charming accent.

“Yes, it’s so nice to meet you officially.” I had to tamp down every urge to gush over him. I was a professional. I was zen.

“So y/n,” he says my name so casually and yet I feel myself lean closer to hear him say it again. “I’ve seen a couple of you come in here for the PA role. What makes you different then?”

Think think, just be calm and think!

“Well I’m a very passionate person so I put my all into everything I do. That would include this job, and in turn you’d benefit by getting peace of mind knowing I’m tackling whatever behind the scenes items that need to get done to get you where you need to go.”

“Well said,” he says with a smile that says he knew he was very good looking. “Now trust is a big factor in this relationship.”

As he talks I forget his manager is even in this room. I’m swept up in the hazy green of his eyes.

“We’ve done the background checks and all that—right?” He looks to his manager who was interviewing me and gets a nod. “But how can you reassure me. My staff gets approached by the media daily for any info on me. What’s to say you don’t sell out.”

“I would never,” I didn’t even think of that being an option. “Confidentiality and trust is the biggest pillar of this role and I take it very seriously. You’re like, the biggest celeb of the last year but I know you’re also a person and I wouldn’t betray that. On a person level.”

“So even if you had a really bad day, say I had gotten you to do some impossible tasks. And you’re heading out head full of steam and you get approached by a reporter. £5k for an exclusive.”

I shake my head. “As tempting as it would be, professional ethics reign over any of that.”

“I believe you y/n,” his eyes flicker down to my file. “Good references. We’ll be in touch.”

Now my eyes roam around the small room I’m meant to work out of. It’s the size of 1.5 supply closets with half the walls filled with shelves and cabinets. There’s a small desk but I wasn’t sure how often I’d be sitting at it. All the PAs I’d ever connected with always complained about the amount of time you spend on your feet. That’s why I’d opted to buy myself runners when I got the job.

“Any questions—mind you I have 1 minute for them before I’m off? There’s a suit I have to sort out.” The EA turns to me when we circle back to my office/supply closet.

“Oh,” a million race through my mind. Nothing that would fit in a minute. “I um, I guess I didn’t catch your name?”

He seems surprised at that, and then he laughs. “Oh you’re a doll. This place is gonna eat you alive. I’m Riley and tip for you—don’t be so eager to please. Do your job. Do it well. But you’re not here to be liked or make friends alright?”

He laughs again when he looks at my face. He hands me an iphone and tells me it’s programmed with everything and everyone I needed, then waves goodbye leaving me in a confused spot.

I wasn’t naïve, I knew what working in this industry was like but I was could swear I’d landed a good gig with Harry Styles. And meeting the man himself in the interview had confirmed it.

Maybe Riley was just jaded by too many long hours.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. A text from Grayson: good luck on your first day babe. let me know how it goes.

I only have time to heart it when I hear the elevator open in the foyer. I rush out just for Harry to brush past me and his manager following, chattering away about something.

I follow from behind and watch as he heads to the kitchen. Riley had shown me what he laid out on the island and how I should do it going forward. And like two magnets Harry reaches for the exact bottle Riley mentioned. He downs the smoothie and then collapses onto the barstool.

“But don’t forget what she was saying about the single needing to be global. Sure your fanbase would love it but would the people who hate you have to admit it’s good.”

“I make it for my fans not for the wankers that hate me,” Harry says and his voice is rich like caramel.

“You know what we mean.” His manager suddenly turns directly to me. “Can you contact the studio and let them know to push Harry’s 1pm to 3?”

“Oh,” I didn’t even know they knew I was here. They gave no acknowledgement until now. “Of course. Um, could I just get the paperwork from this morning too? The appoint-“

“Yep,” his manager unhauls the items in his hands. The whole time Harry stares out the window. I’m handed a stack of papers and I carry them to the office.

My hands are shaking when I put them down and I feel a lump in my throat. What was wrong with me? Why was I reacting this way?

I find the studio contact in the phone Riley gave me and let them know. They’re suspicious at first but accept the reschedule. I leave the paperwork for later, figuring I might be needed now.

But the rest of the morning I’m unacknowledged save by a few requests from Harry’s manager. I spend some time looking through the calender in the phone that’s pre-programmed with Harry’s entire life. It’s packed except for this Sunday. I wonder if it was actually free or just hidden from me since it was my one day off.

“You’ve got a passport haven’t you…?” It’s the first time Harry’s spoken to me. He’s changed into a hoodie and shorts, his manager is nowhere to be seen, and I’ve just bitten into a granola bar—the first thing I’d had since my morning coffee.

“Y/n.” I try to swallow the bite whole but at the last minute push it to the side to try to answer. “Erm yeah. I haven’t got it on me though.”

“Right. Y/n. Start carrying it. I’ll need you with me on Thursday I have a morning meeting in Léon and since Riley’s going to be sorting out something for my New York trip in a couple weeks he can’t make it.”

“Yes. I will. Do you need me to prepare anything else for the trip? I’m not sure if you’ve packed or-“

“It’s just a meeting.” He cuts me off. He pulls out his phone, dismissing me.

I swallow the knot in my throat once more.

I go with Harry to the studio since his manager is meeting us there. Alone in the car with him, the silence feels stuffy.

“I never got the opportunity to say thank you by the way,” I try to open up a conversation. All he was doing was looking out the window surely I wasn’t interrupting anything.

“What?” He stares right through me.

“Um, I’m just saying thank you. For the job.”

He nods.

I stay silent for the rest of the ride.

The studio is quiet, which makes sense when I think about it but upon entering an actual room I change my mind. The noise assaults my ears and I nearly jump at the volume but my hand gripping the doorknob keeps me in place.

People swarm around Harry.

“I need my tablet and my notebook,” Harry says amidst the small chaos.

What the fucks was he talking about. “Sorry?”

“My tablet and notebook,” His face darkens and so does my mood. Nobody told me! But maybe I should’ve asked oh my god.

“I don’t have it,” I say lamely.

“Any time I’m in the studio I need those two things. You need to get me my tablet and my notebook.” He speaks like a robot.

“I-I’ll head back,” I get my bag again. “Tablet and notebook, is there anything else?”

He looks angrier than I thought. He sticks his hands in his pocket, shuffles something in his hand before handing it over. “You may as well get lunch. Keep that card on you for business costs.”

I open my mouth to ask what he might want but he turns away as soon as I take the card and I’ve already fucked up royally so I decide to wing it.

In the car I consider googling what Harry Styles ate for lunch and instead will the ever living shit out of myself not to cry.

I scroll through the phone, debating if calling Riley for help would be a mistake. Going through every app for help I realize the countless notes in the app.

Morning Routines, says one. It lists things I should do when the mornings were spent at home, in studio, abroad, in a hotel, or if I walk into a “morning-after” morning. Jeez.

Another has checklists for what to do when travelling, how-to for routine appointments I should be booking, routine people I should be calling.

Why didn’t I look at this before. Right there is one called Studio Days and in bold it says what to bring.

I was an idiot. A big fat idiot.

I try my luck and search lunch. Sure enough a note with possible lunch places in cities across the world pops up.

It was a How-to guide for Mr. Styles.

Whoever put this shit together was an angel. I owed them my life.

I decide to be proactive, sorting lunch out to be delivered to the studio while the car drops me off. I run to the room Riley had said was the home studio. Sure enough I spot the tablet and a few notebooks, I grab all 3. I also grab the charger and ignore the bag of weed chilling on the arm of the chair.

What to do when he’s too drunk / What to do for Interview Days / What to do when he won’t answer the door or the phone / Day-off checklist / Social media checklist.

The dos and don’ts go on and on as I scroll through on the ride back. This was going to be my homework and by the end of the week I was gonna be a genius.

I swipe away and check if I had missed any folders containing precious info. Just the trash.

Out of curiosity I open it and there’s only 1 sitting inside: the donts of working for Harry Styles

I open it:

-don’t let one nice day fool you into forgetting he’s an arse and your employer

-don’t expect any gratitude from a narcissist

-don’t fall for his charm

-don’t shit where you sleep. no matter how tempting

-when he pisses you off which he will, don’t mouth off. what happens next is worse than being fired. which he won’t do because he’s the devil and he will want to keep you around after treating you like shite

-don’t think he’s chill. he’s anything but. follow the checklists and the rules.

-don’t have a life. actually this is a CAN’T. YOU CAN’T HAVE A LIFE WORKING FOR THE DEVIL. LEAVE AS QUICKLY AS YOU CAN UNLESS YOU HATE YOURSELF

I close the phone immediately, my heart thumping in my chest like a steady bass in the background of a song. What the hell did I get myself into.

***

It’s 8pm by the time I head back with Harry. The car is once again silent.

I had spent the day reviewing emails and the checklists, fielding calls and texts. His personal chef had texted to tell me dinner was prepared and in the oven to be re-heated so I figure that’s the last thing I’d do before I head home.

I’d eaten lunch standing while watching Harry sing background vocals to the album he was working on. It was hard to deny how intoxicating it was to see such a talented man work his magic. And it really was magical seeing how a song got put together.

That is until he’d sent me to get tea for the room and I’d nearly spilled half of it on myself getting enough back to the room. I was getting an electric kettle next.

I made a new note then: Reminders to do so you don’t get fired

The notes were my saving grace.

“My head is killing me,” Harry groans.

What to carry at all times: #4 paracetamol and #2 water

Checkmarked after going to the pharmacy while he was in the studio. I’d created an emergency makeup bag with essentials I could throw in my tote. I considered it a win today.

I hand the painkillers to him and he seems surprised. He replaces them with his phone.

“I don’t want to look at a screen for the rest of the night.”

“Okay.” I leave his phone beside me and try not to think of everything on it.

It vibrates a few minutes later and I leave it, not wanting to invade his privacy but he glances at me.

“Well?”

“Oh!” I lift it but it’s locked.

“1021.”

I type it in. “Um, Jeff wants to know if you’re still at the studio-“

“Reply to him.”

I do as I’m told.

“Um Mitch wants to know if you’re-“

“If it’s scheduling questions you can probably answer them without bothering me about it.”

I look up and he’s tipped his head back, eyes closed. Right. Of course I could.

I go through his schedule and find his studio time on Friday and relay it to Mitch. I respond to another text from someone asking if he was going to a gala in a couple months—his schedule said he was in LA so no. I wondered if I would also be in LA in a couple months. I wonder what Grayson would think.

Grayson, I’d had a short call with him a few hours ago and tried not to cry hearing his voice. It felt like home when the whole day felt so foreign.

I stare at the final text. The contact photo is the side profile of a gorgeous woman.

“Kimberly wants to know if you want um,” I feel my cheeks burn. “If you’re inviting her in tonight because she has a party she really wants you to go to.”

“I can’t be arsed for a party I feel like shite.” Harry says, eyes still closed. “Tell her to be at mine after 10.”

“Ok.” I type the words with a racing heart. I remember the morning-after checklist for this exact scenario. It wasn’t going to be weird soon I guess.

I heat up dinner for Harry while he showers and leave letting him know what time I’d be in tomorrow. He doesn’t even say goodbye.

I get home around the time I reckon Kimberly gets to Harry’s. The first thing I do when I see Grayson is shed a waterfall and he holds my exhausted body tight against him.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” He whispers to me in bed after a shower and sandwich—I couldn’t stomach anything more.

“I need this job Gray. It’s gotta get better.”

“I reckon but it’s a steep learning curve,” he says as he traces the curve of my nose.

“I know,” I snuggle closer to him and yawn. I don’t know what he says next as I tip into sleep.

***

If the notes app manual with the dos and donts of being Harry Styles’ PA was a physical thing, imagine me swallowing it.

Every spare second I had—which I didn’t get a lot of, I was reading that thing. My fingers searched tirelessly before every scheduled and unscheduled event. And yet, I’d fucked up so many times.

It was Saturday and I was looking forward to my day off.

He had been hot and cold all week but ever since getting back from Léon he’d been nicer and I’d actually been getting home before 8.

Maybe things were going well, despite the fact that the learning curve was like climbing mount everest.

“What’s my morning look like?” Harry asks. I was sitting at his kitchen table trying to book a dinner for him next week with a friend that was in town. A friend who also happened to be big back where I was from—I hoped to catch a glimpse of her myself.

I glance up and look back down just as quickly. After a week of seeing Harry in all sorts of undress I should be used to it, but my face still flushes. Today he stands at the table in running shorts.

“Pulling it up,” I say and scan his schedule even though I had it memorized. “You’ve got a meeting at the bank in about 40 minutes and lunch with Michael.”

“Can’t my accountant take the bank meeting?”

“She’ll be there. She’s meeting you downstairs to discuss the meeting on the ride over. You need to sign off on some stuff.”

“Stuff,” Harry repeats.

I look at him, careful to train my eyes on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at my lack of elaboration or just teasing me.

“Documents.” I correct, still unable to tell.

He look amused. “Great. Documents. I thought I’d be signing body parts.”

Was he joking? He was joking…I think.

“Right. No, we’re saving that for the tattoo shop booked for 6.”

He raises his brows, a slow smile spreading across his face and like the sun coasting over the horizon he looks brighter and prettier.

“That’s mad, that people would get a random man’s signature tattooed on them isn’t it?”

It’s inevitable really, my eyes skim over his torso brimming with tattoos. He notices and laughs. It’s a wonderful laugh.

“I meant they don’t really know me.”

“They admire you and it’s a piece of you,” I shrug. “At least it’s not a portrait of your face.”

“I’ve seen that floating around the internet actually.”

“Really?!” Now that was mad. I pull it up on the laptop and cover my mouth.

“I know.” He hangs his head and we laugh. God, things were finally getting better. This was the kind of relationship I thought Harry would have with his PA.

I scroll through comments and it’s impossible to wipe the smile off my face. I’ve considered myself a fan for a lot of artists but tattooing their face…that was another level of commitment I couldn’t do.

I look back to Harry who has grown quiet. His eyes are on me.

“What happened to your blazers?”

I’d decided to wear a skirt today, it was my lucky skirt—the one I had been wearing when I got the call that the job was mine. It being the last work day of the week I thought it might make me feel good.

I’d paired it with a tank top and a comfy cardigan. I’d finally felt like myself compared to all the button ups and blazers I’d been parading in. But apparently Harry had noticed the wardrobe difference. Shocker because he barely acknowledged me this week.

“I thought I’d dress for a Saturday?” It comes out meeker than I’d hoped. Ugh. “I hope that’s alright. If you want me more professional-“

“That’s alright,” his eyes roam down my body and I feel hot all over. Oh god, I shouldn’t have worn this. “It looks good.”

“Thanks,” I cross my cardigan over my body and try to get back to work but he doesn’t let it end there.

“Did you make that yourself?”

He continues to surprise me, “I did actually, is it obvious?”

“Yeah there’s a big hole down the back,” he teases. I know he is because his eyes are smiling, light.

“Damnit,” I relax a little. He was only interested in the sweater. “I’d finished it late it looked okay in the dark.”

“I have a friend, she made one of those for me. With the patches. Very comfortable.” He’s weirdly intense while looking at me and I feel like squirming again.

“It is. Very stretchy.” My vocabulary seems to shrink.

He leans over to touch the fabric and I feel like a cactus has been stabbed into my neck, I feel hot and prickly. Jeez, I had to chill out. My employer was just interested in my sweater. Super interested. Maybe I should just give him the damn thing. It would definitely fit him.

“Wool,” he smiles. He’s basically perched above me and I think I’m going to have a heart attack. I went from complaining about the fact that he acted like I wasn’t in any room he was in to not even being able to hold a conversation when he did.

I’m caught looking up into his unfairly gorgeous eyes and he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. Which I was in this instance, but still.

I’m saved by a loud voice coming out of the elevator.

“Harry you car is waiting downstairs.”

Like a book slammed shut, his expression retreats until all that’s left is the cover page with no summary. The friendly Harry from before is gone.

“Oi Harry! I had to come all the way upstairs because I’ve been sitting in that stupid car waiting! Do you not pick up your phone?”

“Lee,” Harry says as he walks across his living room. “If you can’t reach me you call my PA I’ve told you a million times.”

“And I’ve told you a million times not to keep me waiting. We have a lot to cover before we get to this meeting and I need every minute. God why are you shirtless go put on something appropriate!”

Harry miraculously does as he’s told—given I had already laid out an outfit for him. He’s ready in no time. His accountant, Lee? Simply smiles at me and goes back to typing on her phone while we wait.

“Why is that so wrinkled?” Lee judges Harry who walks out in a completely different outfit.

“I don’t have time to change again do I?” Harry bristles.

Lee looks over at me and I’m not sure if she’s accusing me of something or looking for support.

“Mr. Styles I did leave an outfit out for the m-“

“I don’t wear silk.” He cuts me off and walks out ahead. Lee shrugs my way and follows him. I trail behind, feeling worse than ever.

For a miserable hour and a half I sit in one of the most uncomfortable chairs of my life, organizing Harry’s life while I wait for his meeting to end. As hard as I try to concentrate, I keep agonizing over what I might have done wrong to flick his switch. I swear things were going better. And I know I’ve seen him in silk before. Why the hell else would it be in his closet? Why couldn’t I go a single day without screwing up?

I finally spot Harry walking out of the office and gather my things quickly to meet him. I trail behind as we walk down the hall into the lobby, Lee is nowhere to be seen.

A gasp catches my attention and suddenly a girl younger than me rushes up to Harry.

“Oh my…Harry Styles?”

Harry’s face morphs briefly into annoyance, his gaze flicking my way, before pasting on a smile for the girl.

What to do when a fan approaches H (in the wrong moment): be the bad guy, divert, get Harry to wherever he needs to go to and do it quick.

“Hi,” Harry smiles sweetly at her and the friendliness throws me off guard. But this was unexpected and I should get him away…I think.

“Oh my god could I get a picture? My mate is never going to believe this. She loves you so much, so do I-“

“We really have to be going.” I say and the girl looks at me, surprised to find me there. I look around and spot and older woman watching us. Must be her mum.

“Could I just get a picture?” She glances between us.

“I don’t think Mr-“

“It’s fine,” Harry hands me her phone. “Get a photo of us.”

Just another layer of humiliation to add to the rest of the day. The rest of the week. God was I just awful at reading cues?

I snap a couple and then we’re walking free.

He doesn’t say anything. The car ride to his lunch date is spent in awkward fucking silence and I hate myself more with every second I spend in it.

When the car stops at his destination he holds his hand up when I go to open the door for him.

“Listen -what's your name again?" He asks.

Shame and humiliation drip over me like blood on Carrie’s prom night. I repeat it for him. Just like I had daily since I was hired.

“Right. Y/n. You came highly recommended from a friend so I trust you know how to do this job. This job, is to keep my life organized and keep me on track. Make sure I'm not distracted or side tracked by anyone. Including you. It’s not to be my publicist or my fashion advisor or my personal security. Let's stick to the job description okay?"

His words land bitterly to my ears. Not personal. Just a job. Just a job. Just a fucking job. And yet it was starting to feel like my whole life.

“Yes of course.” I hear myself mumble. And like the big clown I had to be, I push open the door and get out so he can too. He walks to the restaurant without a goodbye and I crawl into the car, heading back to his place. Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to let them out. Refuse to admit just how badly this job hurt.

***

“I’m not doing this on purpose,” I hiss into the phone. “You know I’d be there right now if I could!”

“Babe I get it’s your job but you haven’t come to anything in over a month since you started your job!”

“That’s unfair,” I cup my hand over my mouth. “Gray c’mon I’m going to be there just late.”

“That’s what you said last weekend.”

Last weekend, one of our good friends invited a few friends for dinner in their new place and Greyson had had to go alone. Everyone had messaged me to say I was missed but Gray had been stony, pretended to be asleep when I got home and then given me the silent treatment until I wore him down the next day. It was exhausting begging for affection.

“It’s my job Grey I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Me neither, you know my parents want us over for weekend roast some time but I’ve been avoiding giving them a date because I don’t want you to stand them up.”

“I-“ a shadow shifts in the corner of my eyes and I look up. Harry stands in the doorway. “I have to go we’ll talk later.”

“Whatever y/n,” Grey hangs up and my chest squeezes with all the hurt I was causing. But he saw the state I’d been in since I started this job a month ago and he knows this is just my life right now. Why was he suddenly acting like it was brand new information?

“Are you done your personal call?” Harry asks. He hovers in the doorway, I’d never actually seen him in this little office space. Then again, if he did step in there wouldn’t be much room for either of us to walk around each other.

“Sorry,” I hate myself for apologizing. Here and everywhere else in my life. But I have no other choice. “Can I do anything for you?”

“When are you heading out tonight?” He asks. His eyes glued to my face. I know my eyes are teary and I try to blink it away.

“Um, soon. In an hour or so,” blink blink blink. “Did you need anything from me before then?”

“Yes, I have a friend coming over tonight. Can you order us something for dinner. Something light. And get a bottle to chill for us—champagne. And can you push Monday’s cleaning service to tomorrow afternoon?”

“Consider it done.” I tell him, hoping he would just leave me alone in the dark here.

“Do you have evening plans?” He continues. Why did he never ignore me when I wanted him to!?

“Kind of yeah,” I try to keep it short. “A birthday.”

It was Grayson’s sister’s birthday. She had invited us to a local fave called The Violinist and of course I would only make it to the dessert course if I was lucky. These days, making it to dinner at all was a luxury. I lived off of sparkling water, leftovers, and coffee.

“Well best to finish up what you’re doing so you can head out.”

He leaves and I’m annoyed. Why couldn’t he be nice and just tell me to leave after doing what he asked. But here I sit folding fucking pamphlets for some idiotic pledge he had signed on for. Fuck me.

I’m miserable by the time I leave. I’d managed to finish everything in a half hour so I’d touched up my makeup and changed into a simple dress I had kept in the office closet on Riley’s suggestion.

“A simple black number that could be used for any last minute event.” He’d said. Unfortunately that now counted for personal events too.

“G’night Mr. Styles.” I call out as I walk to the foyer, just so he knows I was going out earlier than I said.

“G’night,” he answers surprisingly. He always ignored me but tonight he sits on the couch. He rises to see me off but I notice him pause and take in my outfit. “Fun night?”

“I hope so.” I unfold the blazer in my hand, suddenly wanting to disappear with his gaze on me.

His long legs walk to me and he takes the blazer I’m fidgeting with from my hands. He actually holds it open and if I wasn’t this exhausted my jaw would definitely be on the floor.

“Oh. Thank you,” I slip it on and turn to face him. As if helping me put it on wasn’t surprising enough, he proceeds to untuck my hair from the blazer.

“That’s alright,” he says in a low seductive tone. “You look nice. Are you dressed up for someone?”

The question is dangerous, toeing a line I’m not sure I want to erase. I try to ease things with a joke. “The birthday girl I guess.”

“A friend?”

“My fiancé’s younger sister.”

Was it just me, or does he bristle when I mentioned my fiancé?

“I didn’t know you were engaged,” he mumbles, glancing down at my hand. I wore a number of rings and I guess the small diamond Grayson had proposed with back when it was the most he could afford, blended in.

“Yeah, nearly a year now.”

“Wow,” he crosses his arms. “Have a date set?”

“Not exactly,” I smooth my hair behind my ears. “We’re thinking next year but we’ve just been so busy with out schedules-“

“What does he do?”

“He’s a personal trainer,” I say proudly.

“Oh,” Harry tilts his head back. “Oh. Now I understand. Now I get the connection. My mate Liam put in a good word for you when I needed a new PA, he said he knew you through his personal trainer. He never mentioned how.”

“I see,” I’d have to thank Liam next time I saw him. He’d been one of Grayson’s first big clients and had become a close friend to us. I’d have to thank him with dinner. If I got any nights off, that is.

“That’s who you were talking to on your personal call?” He asks, his hand tracing my shoulder seam down to my elbow. My heart races from the ghost of his touch.

“Erm yeah, sorry again. I had to take it since it was time sensitive.”

“Best to get going then.”

I take a step backwards and then rush to the elevator all at once. Once I’m on and the doors start to close I turn and catch a glimpse of his handsome face watching me go.

I let out a breath. That was weirdly heavy. And kind of intimate. But weird. That was weird.

I wonder briefly who he was having over tonight. If it was Kimberly, who I’d had the misfortune of meeting in her panties one morning. Or his other “friend” some brunette named Maya or Amaya something. I’d had the misfortune of meeting her when I dropped off a late package to Harry one evening. All were awkward encounters.

I shake away the thoughts and am grateful when Harry’s driver waves me down on the sidewalk. I guess Harry had told him to take me to where I needed to go. My heart is warmed ever so slightly, although I do accidentally nap on the 15 minute drive over.

I make it for the end of dinner and Gray looks relieved to see me even though his eyes hold a hint of something unspoken. I try to ignore it tonight.

“Oh you look beautiful!” I hug the birthday girl, and we sway from side to side. I used to see her a lot before she moved away for uni. “When did you stop being a baby, Josie Duran let me get a look at you.”

“Josefina tell her what you did for your 21st.” Gray says.

“Can you let it go!?” Josie scowls.

“What?” I whisper.

“Mom will kill you,” Gray warns.

“That’s why she doesn’t have to know,” Josie bites.

“Hey,” I put my hands up between the two. “No fighting with the birthday girl. Anyway. Josie, you look beautiful, I’m so sorry I’m late but it’s so good to be here.”

“Aw no don’t worry about it,” she goes in for another quick hug. “I’m just happy you got to come. Gray said the bloke you work for is a nightmare. Tell us do we know him?”

“Ah,” I wasn’t really supposed to talk about him according to my nda. “I dunno if you would. Anyway I’m going to try to steal some of Gray’s leftovers until dessert comes.”

I sit beside Gray where the seat had been left empty and smile up at him, hoping for forgiveness. He sighs and kisses my forehead, pushing his plate towards me.

“Go ahead, have you eaten?”

I had a banana and a yoghurt for lunch but I don’t tell him, just making a vague answer for yes and scarfing down what’s left.

“She got a tattoo,” he says in my ear later as the restaurant finishes singing happy birthday and a cake with sparklers is set down. He’d gotten tipsy and I can tell because he wants to talk about his upsets.

“She’s a grown woman Gray,” I know he was protective and a little traditional—that’s where half of their sibling fights originated, but I always told him he had to let loose a little. “She’s allowed to get it. If I remember you have some tattoos of your own.”

“It’s different y/n.”

“She’s getting older faster than we can keep up with huh?” I lean my head against Gray’s shoulder and let out a big sigh. It feels good, sitting with him here surrounded by friends. It had been a while.

Gray leans his head against mine and doesn’t answer. We watch her friends take pictures like proud parents, watching her cut and then distribute the cake. I should help, but I just could not lift a finger.

“Hey y/n, is that your phone going off?” Josie’s friend beside me points to my facedown phone.

“Is it?” I sit up, my heart doing a number in my chest.

I pick it up, 2 missed calls from Harry and 3 texts. Fuck.

“Leave it,” Gray must be looking over my shoulder. “You’ve gone home now just screw him.”

“I can’t,” I didn’t want Gray getting mad—I know he was kinda drunk and he could make a scene like this. I didn’t want to ruin Josie’s celebration. But I couldn’t ignore this. This is the first time Harry’s messaged me after I’ve gone home. “I’ll take it outside.”

On my way to the door I open the messages. A picture of a bucket filled with ice. A row of question marks. And then: call me

What? What was so urgent about a bucket of-

Oh.

Fuck.

I thought I did everything but I hadn’t. I’d filled the bucket with ice and meant to ask the Italian restaurant around the corner to deliver a bottle like they usually did for Harry but I hadn’t gotten to that part.

I feel like I’m going to vomit any dinner I just had.

I crouch down. Do I call him? Do I pretend I didn’t see this until too late? No. I had to face up. I fucked up.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

I call with shaking hands but it rings and rings and goes straight to voicemail. I try again.

I had to get back, get him the champagne. Fix my mistake.

“Y/N,” Grayson’s suddenly outside. “Aren’t you coming back in?”

“I can’t. I…” how do I explain this to my fiancé without it sounding minor as hell. “I forgot to mail some important documents and I need to get back-“

“It’s Saturday fucking night.”

“Yeah but-“

“And guess what?! Tomorrow’s Sunday! The mail’s going nowhere! Fuck that wanker and come back in.”

Gray holds out his arms and I want to go back in but I need to fix this mistake.

I grasp his hand and he smiles, misunderstanding why I held it, “Gray I have to go-“

He pulls his hand away, a sneer on his face. It hurts when he looks at me that way, like I betrayed him.

“I showed up! I celebrated, I got here Gray I just have to-“

“You were barely here! Do you know how upset she was when I said you couldn’t make it?”

“Well why did you say that!?” I demand. “I told you I was only going to be late!”

“I can’t trust that!” He shouts and I try to pull his arm so he quiets but he doesn’t seem to care there are people around. “Your time is all his, every single fucking second! And when you’re not there your brain is going a million bajillion times over about him and his life. Even when you’re with me! What the fuck! What’s up with that!?”

“Gray I’m sorry look I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I swear. I’ll make it up to your sister I-“

“I don’t care y/n,” Gray slips his arm out of my grasp. “Do whatever you want. Nothing I say matters anymore anyway right?”

“Gray,” tears streak my face as I watch the man I love go back inside without another look my way.

Fuck Harry.

I try to call him again but voicemail. Again. Fuck!

What to do when you make a mistake: admit to it—Harry appreciates accountability. FIX IT! As much as you can. FIX YOUR MISTAKES OR FACE CONSEQUENCES.

An alert that my uber was here pings my phone—I take the ride to the restaurant and grab an already chilled bottle. I book it to Harry’s building and ride the elevator up, every floor causing a further dip in my stomach.

The doors open to a dimly lit space. There’s music playing, something jazzy, and it smells like…vanilla? Vanilla roses?

“Hol-hold on,” I hear Harry chuckle. A head pops up from the other side of the sofa.

“Y/n?” He looks as confused as I am.

Oh my god, I realize as a giggle comes from the floor. They were on the fucking floor of the living room? They were on the floor of the living room f…what the fuck did I walk into?

“Just back with this,” I squeak, holding up the bottle.

“Harry did you invite someone else?” The voice asks from below with another laugh. He sighs, disappearing again. I hear a very distinct wet noise before he pops back up again, I look at the doors of the elevator trying even harder not to give in to the panic attack that was looking more and more tempting.

“What are you doing here?” Harry approaches me with a softened voice. Wearing a robe. A silk robe. I knew he wore silk.

“You called—the bottle I’m sorry it totally slipped my mind I-“

“I told you to call me?”

“I did, you didn’t pick up! I thought I should swing by-“

“I thought you had a party?” His forehead scrunches.

“I…” the pieces come together. Did I take this too seriously because Harry didn’t even look angry? Great. I was an idiot and proving to Harry I had no life. “It ended. Early. I…I wanted to fix my mistake and bring the bottle.”

He takes it from my hand, still confused. “Y/N.”

I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. And lord, in this climate with him in just a robe hearing my name on his lips is not okay. I was going to pass out.

“I’ll leave.” I go back to the elevator but he starts talking again.

“I asked you to call me so I could ask-“ he stops when I turn back around to listen. He closes the gap between us again with a sigh, and I don’t realize my face was still streaked with tears. It was probably more noticeable in the elevator light. He takes his finger and swipes across my cheek, his brows furrowing.

“Sorry,” I swipe my cheek to remove the remaining evidence. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He clears his throat and takes a step back. “Thank you for coming back.”

I nod.

“If you’re going to leave early next time, make sure you finish everything I’ve asked you to do. Don’t skip out like this again.”

“Yes yeah of course,” I stutter, relieved to fit back into our usual roles. For a second there, I thought Harry was going to be kind. And that would have been way worse.

“Good night Y/N. See you Monday.”

“Good night Mr. Styles.”

Gray’s not home by the time I get back. I wake the next morning to his side untouched.

So I do the only thing that felt good these days, I curl up into a ball and cry.

***

Taglist - leave me a message if you’d like to join it :)

#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #asks #harry styles angst #harry styles series #musician!harry #dos and donts #ahhh #i didn’t edit this too much it all kind of came out at once #so ignore any errors #hope this is fun to read #it was fun to write

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bitchinbarzal · 11 months ago

Text

waiting | R Mcgroarty

summary: song fic for waiting by norah jones

Hush now watch the stars fall Into a fire wall

I am waiting here Waiting for you to come home

You stood shivering on the side of the road, wrapped in that foil blanket the firefighters had given you.

You watched with watery eyes as they finally pulled him from the car.

It felt like an out of body experience watching his lifeless body lay in the street before they finally covered it up.

Luca screamed your name from behind the yellow tape until the police let him through, the rest of the team still there watching.

He ran to you, standing infront of you and taking your eyes off Rutger for once this evening.

“Y/N, what’s happened? What’s going on? Are you-“

You mumbled softly “He’s dead… he died Luca, Rut is dead” before dropping the foil blanket to show him your blood stained hands.

He held your shaking hands “It’s gonna be ok”

“He’s gone…”

Melting icy snow l am waiting here, Waiting for you to come home

As the semester carried on, the world continued to spin around you.

You went back to that intersection everyday.

You sat on the bench across from where it happened, you could still hear the tires screeching and the yelling. You can feel that blood soaking your hands when you fired to shake him awake.

You sat at the intersection just hoping he’d roll up to that stop sign and call for you to hop in.

You felt sick.

You’d been feeling sick lately, tired and moody too. The doctor said it wasn’t out with the norm for victims of trauma to suffer these side effects even two months on.

You didn’t like sleeping because it would happen all over again infront of you while you slept.

The boys took turns sleeping on your couch to keep an eye on you. Majority of the time they’d end up in your bed holding you as it was the only way to sleep, when you’d wake up you’d forget for a split second that it wasn’t Rutger holding you.

Those few seconds were the best few seconds in your day.

Now, they were holding back your hair as your projectile vomited into the toilet bowl.

Mark’s hand rubbed small circles in your lower back, coaxing you through “You should see a doctor”

“I did, she said it was fine”

“This” he gestured to you “isn’t fine! This isn’t grief, I mean if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were pregnant”

His comment made your body run stiff “What?”

“I said-“

“I know what you said Mark! What if I’m- I think you’re right” realization settled over your body when you slumped down against his leg to think of your missed periods, sickness, mood changes all were excused as grief.

Your head dropped onto Mark’s knee while you sniffled softly. His hand combed through your hair “You good?”

“I really, really wish you were Rut”

When will I ever learn that If I wait it doesn't mean you will return

You sat in the damp grass with your head leaning onto the side of the stone.

“She thinks you’re a little weird for not coming to the appointments” you commented, shifting to get comfortable “How awkward would it be if I told her where you really were”

It felt weird to joke and not hear his laugh in return.

Sighing, you pull the envelope out of your jacket pocket “find out together, eh?”

“I miss you baby, so much” you start, hands shaking with the envelope in them “This is so scary going through this, I really want to just hold your hand Rut… I’m waiting for you to just come home”

You paused for a moment as if waiting for an answer and when it didn’t come you continued opening the envelope.

“Okay… three, two, one-“ you pulled the paper out, the blue writing confronting you head on.

A tsunami of emotions hit you at once and you began sobbing

“A boy, our boy… your boy, you’re coming home to me Rut”

“Come home”

Now all the stars have gone, cracks of dawn

Towards the end of your pregnancy things got better. You spent less time at the intersection and more time painting his room.

You smiled now which nobody had seen in a long time. You were excited about things and it made everyone so happy.

You called his sister everyday to give updates on babyboy, listening to her as she’d tell the bump stories of his dad.

You also told him stories. The ones where you fell in love, the things you wanted him remembered for.

“Your daddy is the best person ever, but you already know that he’s keeping you safe before he sends you home to me”

I'm waiting here, Waiting for you to come home.

He came early.

The baby wasn’t due in March, he wasn’t due yet.

You panicked, crying for Rutger to hold your hand and sobbing when you realized that wasn’t an option.

“I want Rut!” You cried, squeezing Luca’s hand

“I know, it’s ok”

“It’s not ok! This isn’t-“

Luca pulled your phone off the table and fiddled about with it until he pressed play.

“Hey pretty girl, just calling to check in” it was Rutgers voice, a voicemail he’d left when you were studying late one night “I love you, you can do this! You can do anything”

When his voice stopped you cried “What-“

“You heard him Y/N, you can do it… he trusted you”

You heard his voice the whole night coaxing you through it, you just thought of him.

He finally arrived, perfect and healthy. Like he was right one time. Heaven sent.

Rutger McGroarty Jr

30 March. 06:25am

You held him in your arms, rocking him back and forth.

“You came home to me, you’re finally home… I’ve been waiting for you”

#rutger mcgroarty x reader #rutger mcgroarty imagine

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fandomzwriterk · 4 months ago

Note

This my first time ever requesting anything on this site, so please bear with me 💀 I have a request for any of the Mortal Kombat 1 characters (preferably Lin Kuei and/or earthrealmers) with a special other that ats like either Deadpool or Wolverine? I've been hyperfixated on both, and would interested to see how you portray it!! Thanks 💚💚 (also, love your content btw.)

A/N: yes absolutely yes! I act like Deadpool a lot so this is gonna be fun for me😂😂 Also reader with be based off of both Wolverine and Deadpool🤣🤣😂😂 Brought to you by: Ashes by Nathan Sharp

Bi Han

-> When he first met you, which was a mission to bring you back alive, your first words to him were “come at me daddy” as you pulled out a pistol

-> Confused the man right then and there, making him freeze

-> Answered back with “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

-> As you pulled the trigger, Bi Han straight up froze it with a wall of ice

-> Of course, after you shot, you came running up with your claws unsheathed, stabbing right through the ice almost hitting him

-> “There’s a lot of things wrong with me! Where should I begin? I got tortured… A LOT. Oh I was basically a lab rat for a guy, may he rest in peace, that shot me up full of drugs to stop my cancer and now I can self heal which means I can’t die which means I’m forced to live the rest of my life knowing someone took my humanity away.”

-> Bi Han is just fighting you with his mouth wide open

-> He has no idea what to even say to you

-> “Come on bub, I’m not gonna waste my time fighting you. After all I just told you I can’t die.”

-> “Can you… suffer from other things?”

-> You answered with “yes but I grow anything back that gets cut off”

-> You pulled out a katana as he came to strike down on you with an ice blade

-> There is a lot of back forth… mostly you just trauma dumping on him

-> Bi Han is just thinking to himself “I swear to the Elder gods if she doesn’t shut up I’m gonna kill her- Crap.”

-> The fight ends with him plunging an ice blade through your chest and up making you fall to your knees, pinning you there

-> “Oh I’m not new to this. I like where this is going”

-> Bi Han just crossed his arms in front of him, standing proud as a fiery portal opened up

-> “Oh great thanks dude now I’m apparently going to hell.”

-> You tried to cut the ice with adamantium claws, still stuck in your chest considering how fucking cold it was

Kuai Liang

-> Met you on accident… really! On accident!

-> He had been walking through town when he saw you flip a 6 foot dude onto his back while the rest of the bar was going wild

-> He saw your steel like claws, cutting through everything in its path

-> He HAD to meet you

-> But you were gone as soon as he went to track you

-> “Not my first time being stalked but I will say, you my friend are terrible at it.” You answered sitting on the balcony above his head jumping for him

-> He pulled out his weapon, lighting it on fire as he swung towards you, pulling onto the rope that was holding it

-> You backflipped over his head, making his back get turned to you

-> “Ooh… kinky. Not my first rodeo with that though.”

-> Just stopped in his tracks as he turned to fight you, confusing the hell outta him

-> “I You are very strange”

-> “Eh. I’ve heard that one a few times.”

-> “From who may I ask?”

-> You showed him your bloody claws that had been retracted back into your skin previously

-> You lunged at him, making him roll to the side

-> “Oh come on I hate it when the fun is-“

-> He had cut you, seeing your blood light aflame as it spew from your arm

-> But instantly, it healed, sending Kuai into a state of worry

-> You still felt the skin slowly close

-> You did have no intention to fight or kill him

-> You were mad your sleeve had been cut

-> “Oh come on this was my favorite one!”

-> Your mood changed instantly, seeming to forget he was there as you pulled off the sleeve

-> “I uh… I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to attack you. I wanted to-“

-> “No need to apologize, I just fight everyone I come across. After all I don’t know if you were trying to kill me there. Speaking of which how in gods name did you light that on fire? I’ve been trying for years and never understood.”

-> He put away his weapons upon hearing you start to ramble about random things

-> That fight ended but he asked you to accompany him to his home base

-> And of course… you agreed. Why not have fun all the time since you can live forever?

Tomas Vrbada

-> Weirdest place he met you?

-> At Johnnys house where you had been training him in weapon combat

-> Tomas had an immediate liking to you

-> You were even stronger than Raiden, who had been there with Kung Lao

-> He was entranced by your adamantium claws, your precise aim when it came to guns, and your incredible healing

-> Not gonna lie, when he first trained with you, he was so scared when he cut you deep on your arm

-> You being chill about it and going on about your day like it was nothing freaked him out

-> “You can heal yourself?”

-> “Umm… yeah? Thought Mr Playboy Billionaire would’ve told you that.”

-> “Johnny is-“

-> “Unreliable? Difficult? Stubborn? Ignoring all my advice? Yep that’s the Johnny Cage I’ve always known.”

-> You walked off with no worry, just cleaning your katanas with a soft cloth as you went to sit down next to a small pool of water

-> It took him some time, but Tomas eventually found out who you were

-> Surprise surprise, Tomas found out you’re the legend herself, the great and mighty Wolverine

-> Johnny told him that they wouldn’t allow a female to play a dominant role even though he fought against it, making some male actor the lead and changing some of the story

-> All this time thought you were maybe Wolverine’s daughter

-> But… your personality was more like Wade’s, a friend of Johnny’s who played your other “crude” half Deadpool that was actually really you as well

-> You could be two different people, and he liked that

-> So you were real, and Tomas wanted to always have his eyes on the legend herself

-> Soon enough, about some months later and after visiting the Shirai Ryu enough times, you talked to him about your trauma

-> He told you he knew about it, but he’s not one to judge what you went through

-> After all, he lost family too

-> Secretly wants to find out what exactly you can live through

All Brothers

-> Tomas is protective of you, Bi Han wants to push you to your limits, and Kuai is the one who makes sure you do the right thing, even if you feel like a bad person

-> Tomas very much admires you and I’m sure he, Johnny, and Raiden have made a fan club about you

-> Bi Han is the one who punishes you for wrongdoings, even going as far as to hurt you to make you listen

-> Kuai Liang is the one who takes care of you on your rougher days

-> All three understand they have no place try and understand the torture and pain you went through

-> All three have thought about you fighting them in a 3v1

-> You become the most important person to them for various reasons

-> Bi Han makes you important by telling you and reminding you of all the things you’ve fought so far, how strong you are to still be alive

-> Tomas always has your back through anything, specially missions or when it’s just him and you

-> Kuai always reassures you that even if you’ve done some bad things in the past, that’s not what you always will be defined as

-> However, they know you’re technically immortal and that even if you are and they aren’t, they’ll still treat you like a normal person

-> If you ever have nightmares, each brother does a different thing depending on who’s around

-> If it’s just you and Bi Han alone, he’ll immediately come to find you if you’re having a panic attack or a flashback of awful things you’ve done and said before

-> He chills you down when you’re thrashing in your sleep and burning up

-> He knows you’re not a shitty person like everyone said you were, you’re just a broken “hero” who’s been screwed over so many times

-> If it’s you and Kuai, Kuai always stays nearby with anything you need and if you need alone time, he’s still around with food or comfort

-> Always enforces that you will always be a “hero” even if you don’t feel worthy

-> Is the one who will watch your “movies” with you

-> If it’s Tomas, he’s always by your side, never wavering or leaving

-> He’s the one who’s protecting you, making sure your bad days will be good ones in any way he can

-> He’s the one you talk about your past “transgressions” with

-> Tomas always has some sort comfort thing for you wether it be a blanket or a food you like

-> When they’re all there and you’re having a breakdown or nightmare, they’ll each find a spot to be near you with all three of them cuddled against you like you’re a child

-> You’re all snuggled together like a family even if you’re all different

-> They’ll all stay till you’re comfortable, focused, and ready to keep fighting ahead

A/N: as you can see, I’m very partial to Tomas I’m sorry🤣🤣🤣 Anyways I’m back from vacation now (my bf and I went on a trip)

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apollyonsdarksecrets · 11 months ago

Text

The Fall

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warnings: David being a tease(?), blood, dog attack, robbery, Typical CM violence. Hospitals, (let me know if there is something I missed)

A/N: so these next two chapters are long because I had to take a SUPER long chapter and split it in two. So be thankful I could have just kept it all in one part 😂.

Present Day

The first few things you notice, as your conscious slowly pieces itself together, is that your face is unbearably cold. The AC unit under the window is humming loudly as it pushes the air around, chilling the room like you’ve left the window open. The next thing you gather is that every other part of your body is warm, almost burning. But with the soft pillow under your head, the weight at your back, and how your body has shaped into the mattress, you could care less. This is the most comfortable you have been in years, every ounce of tension smothered away by the heaviness above you.

Then that heaviness moves.

Your eyes snap open with the flood of last nights events, overly aware of who exactly lays behind you. Aaron’s head is pressed against the back of your neck, little puffs of warm air skimming your shoulder, his heavy arm wrapped around your waist and a thick thigh pressed in between your own. His breath is even and deep, seemingly still asleep, and you silently thank whoever is out there for the moment to collect yourself and figure out what you should do next.

What you should do is get up.

What you should do is get the hell out of this room with your tail between your legs.

What you should do is call everything off, the embarrassment you’ve endured enough to last you two life times.

You close your eyes, sucking in a deep breath, because as much as you should move you can’t force your body to do so. The smell of Aaron’s cologne is filling your nose with each breath, then just underneath is a hint of musk that is undeniably all him. It’s intoxicating, it makes you want to bury your face into the pillow and never leave.

“You’re doing a terrible job of pretending to be asleep.” Your entire body jumps at the sound of his deep voice, making Aaron chuckle behind you, a chaff kiss pressing to your shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He mutters warmly.

“It’s-it’s fine… I was just-.” You push the covers down, starting to get up when Aaron’s arm tightens around your middle, holding you in place as his lips find the smooth skin of your throat, right where your shoulder meets.

“Aaron…”

He nips at your skin and you suck in a breath, his hot tongue soothing over the tender spot before he repeats the process further up your neck. Aaron sucks at the soft skin just above your necklace, just where your pulse is and you whimper at the sensation, your eyes fluttering closed. “We-We need to get up… it’s probably time to-.” Your words are swallowed by a thick moan, your head falling back as he finally finds that sensitive spot just bellow your ear. Aaron takes advantage of this new discovery, sucking and nibbling gently as he rolls you onto your back. His large frame settles between your thighs, trapping you in.

Your hands find his arms, squeezing the tense muscles as his weight presses you down into the mattress, your mouth opens in a silent moan, your eyes fluttering against the pleasure clouding over your mind. “Aaron… we can’t do this.” Your words are half hearted, contradicting your actions as your palms travel up to his shoulders, pulling him in as his plush lips pepper the underside of your jaw.

“Why can’t we?” He mumbles, resting his weight on his forearm, his other hand finding your hip. His fingers dig into your skin, his palm pressing into your bone angling your hips to his liking. Aaron lifts his head at your lack of response to find your lips parted in a quiet pant, your eyes closed as you drink in the feeling of him. “Hmm?”

“We could… so much trouble if we keep doing this…”

Your breath catches in your throat as his hand slips under your shirt, smoothing up your side and spreading wide along your ribs. Aarons thumb just barely brushes along the bottom of your breast, all of your senses zeroed in on the small area as the digit rubs back and forth.

“Then stop me.” His voice is laced with a growl, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that can only be described as feral. Your front teeth clicking together, noses bumping, moans filling each other’s mouths as your hands find home in his hair, tugging at the short locks desperately. Clauses smooth over the hard peak of your nipple, sharp hips grinding down into your own, and his erection presses firmly into your mound.

Aaron groans loudly, the noise reverberating through his ribs and into your own. Your thighs squeeze his hips with each slow canter, dragging himself along your soaked core. Every sensation is building into a frenzy under your skin to the point you feel like you will burst into a million little pieces.

The shrill ring of a phone sends everything to an abrupt halt. Aaron is off of you and picking up his phone before you can even take your next breath. “Hotchner.” You blink drizzly up at him, the sudden change in everything leaving you with whip lash. Aaron stays seated between your thighs, one hand kneading and squeezing the soft fat, stroking your leg as he speaks. His voice nor his face give anything away of what just transpired, leaving you astounded as you’re left trying to catch your breath. The way he flips script so easily almost a little unsettling.

You can faintly make out David’s voice on the other end on the line, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding blowing through your nose. You draw your leg up with the intention of leaving the bed but Aaron squeezes your thigh and he shoots you a glare, silently telling you to stay where you are.

Reluctantly you drop your leg back against his pajama clad thigh, tuning out most of his conversation with the older man as you fix your shirt, pulling it back down over your stomach where it had ridden up. “Right. We’ll be there in an hour.” He ends the call, tossing his cell onto the bed leaving his hands free to explore the outside of your thighs with a gentle touch.

“We need to get up.” Your voice is soft, low and thick, your eyes darting down to where his hands have come to a stop.

“Who did this?” His eyes, unusually dark, catch you by surprise when you look up at him in confusion. You’re about to ask him what he means when you feel his thumb rubbing back and forth around the jagged raised scars on your thigh.

Aaron watches how you mentally shut down, your features once soft and dopey now are stony, your gaze turning sharp as your eyes narrow. “No one.” You force yourself to sit up and move away, your back pressing into the cold, wooden headboard.

“You don’t fit the profile of someone who would have hurt themselves.”

You roll your eyes, your nose scrunching with disgruntled anger. “How would you know? Besides, Derek says we aren’t supposed to profile each other. So don’t.”

Aaron moves closer, the bed dipping in making you slip towards him as his hands land on your knees, balancing himself with a soft squeeze. “Those are Derek’s rules, not mine. You don’t seem like someone who would have hurt themselves because you continuously push through your problems, you tuck them away so that they don’t affect what you have set your mind to.” His hand slips down your thigh again, going for the scars that plague you endlessly. “So, I will ask you again. Who did this?”

Your pulse picks up, your breath sticking in your throat like a candy you forgot to chew, as his fingers brush your numb skin once again. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You push his hands away, and Aaron sits back on his heels as you scoot to the edge of the bed with a wince. The memories of last night aren’t the only reminder of what happened, a deep seated soreness is there too.

Aaron sighs, a bit of annoyance latching onto his words as he speaks. “How is any of what we are doing supposed to help if you won’t open up to me? It’s not a sin to show vulnerability, or emotion.” His fingers brush your wrist but you jerk away, spinning on your heel to level him with a rough glare.

“Yes it is. Showing those things, when you are a person like me who came from nothing, gets you no where in life. My emotions are not the reason I pulled my life around in high school, they are not the reason I received valedictorian in college. No amount of tears earned me my work ethic. That was done by me without any of those things. I was fine keeping my mouth shut, my emotions locked away, and going about my life as I should. It was you who decided otherwise!”

Suddenly your voice isn’t your own, it’s hauntingly familiar, piercing the back of your mind like talons from a bird who has caught its prey. You don’t see the room around you anymore, just the never ending darkness that suffocates relentlessly.

The brackets around Aaron’s mouth soften, his eyes turning pitiful and you think that’s the worst part of it all. “Baby…”

“I want to go home, Aaron.” It takes great effort to not let your voice crack as pressure bears down on your chest, making it hard to breath. You’re sure if you keep standing here it will all be for nothing.

“Okay.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

You’re the first to board the jet, the cabin is only a few degrees warmer that the air outside, making you pull the sleeves of your purple turtle neck down to cover your hands. Despite hardly saying anything else to each other Aaron still made it a point to pick out the clothes he wanted you to wear, then helping you carry your bags to the car. The ride had been silent and uncomfortable, the boundaries that you thought were in place are now blurred, and a new type of nervousness has burrowed into your bones.

You pick the couch at the far end of the plane, pulling out one of the blankets JJ keeps in storage for weather like this. You ease into your seat, a long sigh escaping as you drop your head back against the wall, mentally and physically exhausted.

“Well, good morning.” David’s chipper voice fills the cabin and you force yourself to lift your head and meet him with a smile. Aaron is on his heels with a new folder in hand. His work never finished.

“Morning, how was seeing your friend?”

“It was good.” David nods his head, stopping in front of you, smiling crookedly. “We had just enough time to catch up on life until the next time I am in town.”

“That’s great.” You say genuinely, your head tilting slightly. Your smile falters as his brown eyes narrow, your back stiffening as David reaches out, gripping your chin between warm fingers. He tilts your head up and hums softly, his grin returning at full force as his eyes gleam with knowing.

“Well, now isn’t that a pretty sight. Make sure not to get that snagged on anything, gattina.”

Unbridled embarrassment fills your stomach, spreading to the top of your head and down to the bottom of your feet. Your jaw slackens in David’s grip and he chuckles, squeezing your chin before stepping back. Aaron looks up his eyes darting between the two of you. “It took her a minute to agree to wear it. I think she likes it though.”

Your head snaps in his direction, your cheeks reddening with rage but David speaks first. “Oh I’m sure it did. The feisty ones always put up a little fight.”

The fact that they both are speaking as if you aren’t sitting feet from them has you seeing red. You jam the necklace under the collar of your shirt, pulling the blanket up to your chest with a huff. Your narrow eyes bore into Aaron’s who holds your challenging stare, an eyebrow cocking in question. You curse yourself repeatedly as you drop his stare, refusing to acknowledge him or David again for the rest of the trip.

When David sends Aaron a smirk he finds the raven haired man staring at you with a mixture of amusement and possessiveness.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Two and a half uncomfortable hours later you are finally dredging your way back into the bullpen. Your extra bags are packed into your small silver car, refusing the help of the two men, and as you surround yourself with the familiar sounds of rustling papers, ringing phones, and jumbled chatter; you finally feel some tension ease away.

Dropping into your chair at your desk you stretch out your arms, noticing the stack of folders on the corner by your computer. No matter how much you do, there is always more paper work.

“Hey, sweet cheeks.” Derek Morgan drops into his own seat across from you, dressed in a too tight white t-shirt and an impish grin on his face. He rests his elbows on the desk, his muscles flexing as he watches you drag your eyes from him to the folder in front of you. There was no denying he was a very handsome man.

“Good morning.” You singsong back, flipping through the manilla folder, eyebrows creasing as you scan the text.

“How was Jenny after we left?”

You take a second to respond, carefully choosing your words. “She was really good. She was open and talkative, I don’t believe there will be any psychological impact that will affect her life. I’m sure as she grows older and understands more and more of what happened she will seek someone to talk with but for now… she is doing very well.” You prop your head on your fist, your eyes rolling up to meet his. Morgan nods thoughtfully, rolling a pen between his fingers as he leans back in his chair, rocking slightly.

“That’s good. I couldn’t stop thinking about her after we had left.” Right there. That was what made Morgan such a good profiler to you. Not only was he the power of the team, no door standing a chance around him, but he also held a big heart which overflowed with compassion.

You nod, dropping your attention back to your folder when another voice joins in. “That’s new.” Garcia suddenly appears behind you, her bright red fingers plucking at the arm of your sweater. Everything in you stills for a moment, before you force yourself to react, licking your lips and turning to the bubbling blond with a smile.

“Oh uh yeah, it is.”

“And so are those pants! They look good on you.” Garcia’s smile has always been the most infectious thing, despite what comes across her many monitors daily, she always a is a ray of sunshine. Her quick wit and humor making it impossible to dislike her in the slightest. The cheerleader you all need.

You nod again, feeling your cheeks heat under both of their intense gazes. “I kinda did a little shopping after the case was finally wrapped up.”

Morgan makes a noise and Garcia shoots him a leveling glare behind her pink glasses. The color being the main theme of today’s outfit, from her pink 50’s styled dress to her pink heels and makeup.

“What? I’m surprised is all. But good for you, Y/n. You needed to treat yourself.” He holds up his hands in surrender, waving them slightly.

"Y-Yeah you aren't wrong." You amend, glancing up to the landing behind him as movement catches your eyes. Arron is watching the three of you with a slight smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The day felt as though it had dragged on and on, more and more profiles of children and young adults to sort through. Deeming who is top priority for therapy based on the severity of their cases. Finally you are able to close out your computer, leaning back in your chair with a groan. The office is shrouded in darkness, a few emergency lights humming lightly and the amber glow of the offices above you the only lighting.

You can’t help finding Aaron’s office, the door is open and so are his blinds, but there’s no way of seeing him from where you sit. You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering if you should just leave or if you should go to him. You had never discussed how things were supposed to be in the office asides from being discreet. Nothing can be more discreet than just leaving as usual.

Your cellphone suddenly vibrates on your desk, and you aren’t left to wonder any longer. A text from Aaron pops up on the small screen and you find yourself hesitating to answer, your eyes darting around the office to ensure your privacy.

Aaron Hotchner: “How was your day?”

You roll your lips together before typing back a quick reply, something fluttering in your chest.

Y/n Smith: “Same as always when we are in the office. Just paperwork.”

It’s not a forward answer and you find yourself chewing at your cheek again.

Aaron Hotchner: “Did you eat lunch?”

Fuck. Y/n Smith: “I didn’t … but I was planning on having a big dinner when I get home from picking up Bruce.”

You swallow thickly, your eyes flickering to his windows where you can practically see the pinched set to his dark eyebrows, his eyes narrowing as he reads your message.

Aaron Hotchner: “Make sure that you do. Remember some of our rules extend to the work space and that includes eating three means a day if you are able to. Now, are you going straight home?”

Your face flames with heat, again glancing around to make sure no one can see your mild embarrassment from being reprimanded.

Y/n Smith: “No, I’m going to go pick up Bruce first.”

Aaron Hotchner: “Call me when you get home.”

You take a breath, one you didn’t know you were holding and begin to gather your things.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Nearly two hours later you are finally pulling into the driveway of your small one story home, your car shaking with the force of Bruce’s excitement. You laugh as he whines, his tail wreaking havoc on the seat back behind him. You grab your keys and phone, leaving everything else for later. “You ready? Who’s ready to be home?” The high pitched toddler talk you reserve souly for your over grown puppy makes Bruce bark, the car shaking more as he shifts on his paws. “Let’s go then!”

You step out and he instantly follows, circling you before going ahead and running back, like he’s asking you to go faster. You both make your way to the front door, bantering one-sidedly as you unlock the door as you debate dinner.

“Chicken noodle?” He whines as you push the door open, letting him go in first. “No? Well then how about a pasta bake?” You toss your things onto the door side table, closing and bolting the door behind you. Bruce yips, his tongue lulling out the corner of his wide mouth, almost grinning as you lead him into the living room. “Ooo what about fish sti-.”

You stop abruptly, halting in the middle of your living room, as your focus lands on a man lumbering at the entrance to your kitchen. He’s shrouded in the darkness of the small area, his clothes different shades of grey and his face is obscured from a ski mask. In one hand he holds a large trash bag, in the other what appears to be your silverware.

Bruce’s growl snaps you from the impromptu staring contest you’re having with the man, the hairs on his body standing on end as his posture shifts. His stance widens, shoulders dropping , ready to protect. Though fear sizzles through your blood like acid you react before the intruder does, your hand snapping for the gun at your hip only to fumble over air. The realization that you have left it in your car knocking the air from your lungs. The man steps forward and Bruce’s growl intensifies, placing himself in between the two of you.

“FBI. You need to vacate before you do something you will regret.” You force the words out, your voice loud and stern, even as your tongue stick to the roof of your dry mouth. You hover your hand over your bare hip, hopping it will psych the man out as his eyes flicker between you and the dog.

He takes a step forward and you fall back one, Bruce retreating with you, the knowledge that you know he will attack on command giving you courage you don’t have. The giant holds up his full hands, his eyes darting behind you as he speaks. “We aren’t here to hurt you lady.”

“We?”

You don’t have the luxury to ponder what he means when something crashes over the back of your head. The sound of glass shattering fills the room, your knees hitting the hard wood floor soon follow. Black swims over your vision as you fall forward, barely catching yourself on your hands, the sting of glass cutting into your palms making your cry out.

A hair raising snarl rips through the room, Bruce launching himself at the man who just ambushed you from behind. Your ears start to ring and you gasp, trying to clear your vision as you sway on your hands a knees, you bloody palms slipping on the floor. A gut wrenching noise fills the air, teeth shredding through fabric and meat and a scream that makes you flinch.

Rough hands grab at your arms, hauling you up and the world around you swims and tilts, your head falling limply against your chest. There’s a thud and a whine that makes bile rise into your throat as you’re dragged towards your linen closet, mumbling negatives as you try to fight back.

“Shut the fuck up.” The man holding you shakes you by your shoulders, rattling you and your consciousness slips farther away. “Get the fucking door Mac.”

Mac. Mac. Mac.

Your sluggish brain chants the word as you’re hauled over to the dark closet, your body dragging across the floor. “Don’t… please…” With a loud sneer you’re stuffed in, unsure if the darkness surrounding you is from the door slamming shut or the last of your consciousness slipping away.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Aaron stares down at his phone where it sits on his desk, silently willing the screen to light up as he taps an uneven tempo with his pen against his thigh. The final folder he needs to go through is laying untouched in the small metal basket, his attention fixated on the out of date cell Garcia is constantly hounding him over.

It’s nearing three hours since you left the office, and an anxious feeling is bubbling in his chest, squeezing his lungs and heart. You should have called by now, the text he sent an hour ago never answered. Were you ignoring him? Had something happened on your way home? A million different outcomes are ricocheting off of each other inside his skull.

“Hotch?” David’s voice makes him jump, spinning around in his chair to face David leaning in his doorway. “Everything alright?”

Aaron rubs his thumb across his fingers, a comforting tic he developed many years ago when he still lived with his father. Sighing Aaron drops his gave back to his phone. “I think something is wrong.”

David’s eyebrows inch up and he takes a few steps into the blandly decorated office. The only personal touches are the awards lining the dark walls and a few pictures of Jack. “What do you mean?”

Aaron takes a deep breath, “Y/n… She hasn’t called and I’ve already messaged her once…” Aaron bites his lip, shaking his head. “My gut tells me there is something wrong and I can’t get rid of the feeling.”

David only takes a moment to contemplate, nodding his head as he grabs the door. “Then we need to go.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

"HELP!" Your fists pound into the door, desperation and fear cracking your already strained voice.

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? The darkness surrounding you gives no answers away, and no matter how hard you push and pound on the door, there is no give.

It's all of those lonely dark years all over again, suffocating, hindering, debilitating. You scream for Bruce but there is no answer on the other side, no noises to let you know he is okay.

You’re cramped in the small space, the shelves above you preventing you from standing, the space becoming more and more claustrophobic. Tears choke your labored breathing, curling into yourself, deflating into sobs.

"Please... Please help me..."

*~*~*~*~*~*

It didn't take long for the two men to find your small white home, the faded numbers on your teal mail box still visible in the dying light of the setting sun. Aaron is overly aware of how the large black SUV stands out among the lower class suburb, but there doesn't seem to be a soul around to notice as he and David step out into the cold air. The house is dark on the inside, the front porch illuminated by the single strand of soft glowing Christmas lights that wrap the banister.

Aaron had called you once before leaving the building then again when they pulled onto your street, that creeping feeling of dreed now worming its way through the deepest parts of his guts. David glances to Aaron before leading the way to your door. It's painted the same sun-kissed color as your mailbox, but when David knocks it swings inward under his heavy fist.

Both men automatically draw their weapons, David glancing to Aaron who gives a curt nod before he pushes the door open all the way. In front of them is a long hallway, three doors on the wall to their left, an archway at the very end and another to the right. David gestures to the doors and Aaron veres to the right, noticing the small table with your cellphone on top. He turns the corner sharply, gun level and narrowed eyes scanning the dim room, the only light filtering in through sheer drapes.

The living room had been turned over, furniture pushed around or completely toppled over, once neatly placed books now litter the floor. There’s a pile of glass at his feet that looks like it had once been a vase, everything in his immediate vicinity is speckled with blood. A broken lamp lays on its side, the bulb flickering hauntingly, casting shadows about the room. Aaron can hear David on the other side of the wall, his steps just as measured and cautious in case someone is still lurking.

He makes it across the room, the trail of blood growing in volume, right at the entrance to your kitchen. It’s staining the walls and checkered linoleum floors, and Aaron can smell the copper tone in the air. His heart beats unsteadily, fear gripping him as he scans the trashed room spotting the blood soaked door. Making his way over he peaks out the window, finding a small, dark back yard.

“Clear!” He tells to David, who parrots the word back. Aaron’s heart is thumping wildly, his thoughts crescendoing, but as he is about to move away from the door a soft whine reaches his ears. He pears out the glass once more, this time a dog comes into view. He’s large, black and brown and Aaron can see blood covering the dog’s muzzle as he paces back and forth on the small patio, staring at Aaron expectantly.

Swallowing thickly Aaron looks around, grabbing a dish towel off of the counter and using it to turn the sticky door nob. The dog bursts through the door before Aaron can fully open it, bolting into the living room, David comes around the corner in time to see Aaron following the furry beast, his phone in hand ready to call the police.

The dog leads Aaron to a door tucked in the corner of the room, where he is pawing and whining at the white wood. There’s a china cabinet pushed tight against the door, bloody handprints smeared across the side and Aaron’s stomach drops with the realization. “Dave!”

The two men rush to the piece of furniture, heaving it away, Aaron’s hands slipping against the side of it. Once there is enough room Aaron throws open the door, his gaze meeting stacks of blankets and towels until his eyes drop to the ground.

You’re curled into the small space at the bottom, your arms thrown over your head, your shoulders shaking with each heaving sob. Instantly Aaron is taken back to just a few days ago when they found Jenny tucked into the crawl space. Bruce makes a gruff noise behind Aaron and the man drops to his knees in the doorway, relief and anger pooling in his soul as he takes in the state of you.

He reaches out, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder making your entire body jerk with a startled scream. Your head snaps up, eyes wild and unfocused as you press yourself further into the wall. Aaron holds up his hands, his voice taking on a soothing whisper. “It’s me, baby. It’s just me and David.” Tears relentlessly spill down your ruby cheeks, your chest rising and falling so fast and uneven that Aaron is afraid you are are going to hyperventilate.

Before he can say anything else though, you are scrambling towards him, throwing yourself against his chest with so much force you knock him backwards. His arms wrap around you and you let out the loudest sob he had ever heard, your fingers digging into his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline and you were stuck in an endless dark sea. Bruce tries to nudge his head between your bodies, his tail wagging slowly, as David takes a few steps back dialing 911.

Aaron gently strokes your hair, his eyes close as relief washes over him. “You’re safe, everything will be okay. We’ve got you.”

A strangled noise leaves your throat as you press your face in closer, your fingers shaking around the fistfuls of his shirt. “I-I… I got jumped.”

“Shh, it’s okay, you don’t have to talk right now.” Aaron whispers, Bruce moving around to the other side, laying his head on Aaron’s thigh. Aaron drops a hand to the dog’s head, scratching him softly. “Good boy, you’re a good dog.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The neighbors began to a merge when the police lights filled the night sky, whispering amongst themselves and speculating what could have happened to their most quiet neighbor. Inside, the house is consumed with near chaotic energy. Bright flashes of lights from cameras, men yelling back and forth to each other across the house. People getting samples of the blood left, picking up pieces of your home, your life, to place into evidence baggies.

And in the center of it all sits you. You’re curled up on the couch, Aaron’s arm wrapped around your shoulders as Bruce lays on your feet, a middle aged EMT checking your blood pressure in front of you. You hadn’t stopped shaking since you left the closet, the adrenaline pumping through your system making it impossible to sit still.

The woman in front of you, her black hair slicked back into a small pony tail, her flawless dark face scrunched in concern; shines a small light into each of your eyes. “Your pupils are dilating like normal, but I would feel more comfortable if we loaded you up and took you to the hospital for further evaluation.”

You stare at her blankly for a moment, trying to focus on her words as the rest of the officers clatter around behind you. Aaron squeezes your hand, making you look up into his pinched face. “Oh… yeah, yes.” You mange, looking back to the woman. She gives you a gentle smile, a smile she has probably perfected with her job.

“Alright hun, let’s get you up.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

It’s no secret that the entirety of the team hates hospitals. The fact that they are walking into the unknown of a sterilized building, with its overly bright lights and white walls, sets their nerves on edge. Everyone had gotten the same phone call from David, explaining that you had been attacked and were being taken to the hospital for further examination. Every single member of the team dropped what they were doing to get there, to get to you.

Morgan and Garcia are the first to arrive, having been just a few streets over at a local dive bar. The clicking of Garcia’s heels is loud in the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Morgan’s large hand rests on the small of her back as they follow the directions of the receptionist, the instant relief they felt learning that you were in a common room like a flood of cold water on a hot day.

As they round the next corner Morgan’s eyes land on an open door just down the short hallway. He drags Garcia to a stop, his mouth falling open in stunned silence. “What?” Garcia’s snaps, the incredulous look she gives him wiped away when he points.

Just ahead they can see you perched on the edge of a hospital bed, a white sheet pulled across your lap, your forehead resting against Aaron Hotchner’s sternum. He’s rubbing slow circles against your back with one large palm, and they are able to make out the slight movement of his lips as he speaks with you in a hushed voice. Your arms are thrown around his waist, bobbing your head to whatever is being said before you lean back to look up at the older man. Aaron leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and Garcia nearly collapses on the spot, her hand flying to her mouth to keep any noise from escaping.

“What in the…” David steps out of the room before Morgan can finish, pulling the heavy wooden door closed behind him as he spots his coworkers. A small smile tugs at his lips as he ambled over to them, meeting them halfway in the hall.

“What was that?” Garcia hisses, rushing up to the older man as fast as her heels will allow.

“That… was none of your business.” David says nonchalantly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans.

Morgan scoffs, keeping his voice low in case either of you were to open the door. “That was most definitely something. How long has this been a thing? And with Hotch of all people?”

David finds it difficult to hold in his chuckle at the incredulous look the male gives him, even harder still when Garcia slaps Morgan on the arm. “Be nice.”

“Look. It isn’t my place to say anything, but,” He pauses to gage their faces. “It’s quite new. Now, coffee anyone?”

David strolls away without letting them get another word in, whistling a tune from an old opera. Garcia turns to Morgan with a bright smile, her excitement barely contained making her shoulders and hands shake. Morgan rolls his eyes and gestures to the door.

After Garcia is able to calm herself down Morgan pushes the door open with a soft knock. Aaron is now seated across the room, and you’re slouched on the bed with an ice pack pressed to the back of your head. You look up as they enter, your normally clear eyes red and puffy, your hair disheveled and your nice new clothes wrinkled. You looked shocked to see them, glancing back and forth between the pair.

Garcia rushes you, dropping her bag on the bed and swallowing you in a tight hug. The discomfort you would have felt just this morning at the sudden embrace isn’t there as you hug her back just as tight. “Oh my gosh… are you okay?” You nod as she pulls back, her eyes scanning your face.

“Yeah… just a slight concussion. They are bringing me my discharge papers soon.” You smile weakly up at Garcia, your eyes jumping to Morgan.

“Heya, sweet cheeks.” He says softly, Garcia moving to the side as Morgan takes a seat on the edge of your bed by your legs. He reaches up and touches your chin softly as he scans your face, looking for whatever it is he needs to be reassured you’re okay. “What happened?”

You fiddle with your ice pack for a moment, a knife of embarrassment slashing through you as your shoulders slump forward. “I got home and there was a man robbing my home. I… I left my gun in the car and since I was so focused on the man in front of me I didn’t see the other guy come up from behind. He knocked me over the head and…”

Aaron watches as you shift in your spot, your throat working as you swallow, trying to force the memories and emotions down. “I passed out. I know Bruce got one of them though, my house is covered in blood.”

“Bruce?” Asks Garcia.

“My dog.”

“That means he will be headed to one of the hospitals, a dog bite can be nasty and they might not be skilled enough to take care of it on their own depending on where he got bite.” Morgan nods his head thoughtfully, turning to look at Aaron.

“I already have the local police canvassing the nearest hospital and urgent care phacillities. We will have a blood match if he goes anywhere.” Aaron’s face is lined with worry and anger, a mutual feeling growing in Morgan’s chest.

“Good. Do you remember anything at all about the two men?” Morgan turns back to you, watching as you pick at the itchy blanket in your lap. It’s unnerving seeing your normal stoic persona cracked in half, and yet he’s relieved to know that there is some emotion underneath.

“I only saw one of them, and even then he was wearing a ski mask. His hands were white, his voice plain, he was very tall though, took up most of my foray into the kitchen… one of their names was Mac.”

“We can work with that.” Garcia reassures you, her hand rubbing your back. You nod, the door to your room opening at the same time to reveal a worried looking Reid, JJ, and Prentiss.

As well as they can, they try not to swarm you; each of the women giving you tight hugs and words of relief. When Reid finally makes his way to you, you pull him in for a hug, the shock on his face enough to make most everyone chuckle.

By the time the nurse comes to discharge you, she’s met with a room full of FBI agents. She smiles a little nervously at everyone as she makes her way to you.

“Here you go. Now, get a lot of rest, that means both mentally and physically. Come back immediately if there is any sudden change in your condition, vomiting, dizziness, strong fatigue.” Everyone is nodding along to the nurses instructions, as if they will be the ones making sure you follow doctors orders.

“Thank you.” You take the papers flipping through them as she leaves. Aaron watches you, your body still taught, despite the defeated set of your shoulders. He wants nothing more than to get you alone and finally talk about everything that had happened. To see if you will open up to him.

“Do you need a ride?” Garcia asks, standing up from her chair.

“Oh um no thank you. Hotch and Rossi drove me here, they said they’d take me back to my neighbors house who offered to let me and Bruce spend the night.” The lie that rolls off of your tongue is so believable even Aaron is questioning if that’s what you think will really happen once you’re out of here.

Garcia only nods, throwing an arm around your shoulders and hugging you once again.

*~*~*~*~*~*

ONE LAST CHAPER YOU GUYS 😭😭😭 it’s coming very soon. Like probably tomorrow or the day after I’m crying. 😭😭😭

Tag List: @kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs @morgthemagpie @zaddyhotch @little-miss-cherry-cola @fandomawesomness @heart-breaker8 @aad1993 @obsessed-oops @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @rosiehale23 @emptybagofchips77 @icarusgloom @imr0nni3 @cashtons-wife @mojo366 @mrsgweasley @hotchners-wifey @lelevs @normaltuesdaynight @tgskitten @char-jlhewitt @shinebrightlikeafanbase @emobabeyy @bunbunbl0gs @turtleshavesoulmates @mrs-ssa-hotch @balariie @eveyez-exe @nachofriess @aangell333 @wisdomcrys

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toournextadventure · 1 year ago

Text

movie night vi

Summary: A theatre full of paraphernalia and a date night with your godmother. What could possibly go wrong?

Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: swearing, Scream-typical violence, grief mention, scar mention, mentions of past Ghostfaces/attacks Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii) (pt.viii)

“Where are we going again?” You asked as you jogged awkwardly to catch up with Gale.

“Just come on,” she said before continuing to speed walk down the streets of New York.

The day had been chaotic before you had even woken up. You had vaguely been aware of Tara laying completely on top of you, almost like a weighted blanket, and it had been nice. But then you heard yelling, and shouting, and heavy footsteps, and the loud crack of your door being thrown open and slamming into the wall. Both you and Tara flinched, with her pressing down on one (all) of your wounds, and she stood up quickly while you rolled onto your side and tried not to show how badly it hurt.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Dicky said with an annoying smile that quickly turned into a frown. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“Didn’t Ma ever teach you to knock?” You asked, doing your best not to groan when you pushed yourself up to your feet.

“Time for coffee,” he said. “Made a cup special for you, Tara,” he said with a smile before backing out of the door. “Don’t keep her waitin’!”

It was a quick rush through coffee, a berating from Ma about how you “made” Tara sleep on the floor, and then a moment to say your goodbyes before Gale ushered the four of you out of the front door of the brownstone. You pretended not to notice Tara and Sam looking around and trying to figure out where they were.

You all followed Gale through the streets until ending up in an alley that Sam and Tara had been hesitant to enter. Not that you blamed them, they didn’t exactly have the best luck with sketchy situations. It wasn’t an unwarranted fear; you had been jumped in alleys plenty of times, and that didn’t even hold a candle to their trauma.

“How did you even find any of this?” Sam asked when Gale searched at the end of the alley.

“It’s called investigative journalism,” Gale answered with a smile. “Now come on in,” she said, “you’re going to want to see this.”

“Well now you’re sketchin’ me out,” you grumbled when you passed her, forcing open the door she was struggling with. It was heavy and a bit rusted, but you managed just fine.

And if you hoped Tara saw your muscles there for a second, well, that was nobody’s business.

You stood aside as all three women walked into the building that you presumed was abandoned. Honestly, it reminded you of the building you had taken Tara to all those weeks ago. Except hopefully no one barged in unannounced this time. Last thing you needed was three trauma survivors losing their shit.

Again, it was warranted, but you could only do so much to help.

The door slammed shut behind you, leaving the sound to echo in the empty hallway. If you had been alone, you would have gone exploring. There was nothing more exciting than an abandoned building in the middle of New York, especially one you hadn’t been in before. God, think of the possibilities of what could be in there? There were definitely some treasures to be discovered, no doubt about it.

“Hey Tara,” you said as you finally caught up with the group, “this kinda reminds me of our movie redo.”

“What?” She asked, her voice a little quieter than usual.

“You know, when you put on Titanic and we thought we were gonna get disappeared?”

“What?” Sam asked, and you all froze.

“Nice going,” Tara whisper-shouted at you.

“Uh-” you looked around frantically, “-what’s that up ahead?”

You smiled bashfully at Sam as you pushed past her, doing your best not to let her glare kill you. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought up the date, that was a bad decision on your part. Sometimes silence was your best friend. And unfortunately, you continuously pushed that best friend aside until you got in trouble because… well… sometimes you were a little stupid.

Gale walked in tandem with you as you led the way through the rest of the hall until you reached the open theatre. Sam and Tara stopped in their tracks once they caught up. The quiet gasp from your left side was devastating. The deafening thump in your chest nearly drowned it out; you wish it had.

“What the fuck,” Sam said softly before hesitantly moving forward to check out one of the many glass cases in the abandoned theatre.

“Are these props?” Tara asked with a shaky voice.

“They’re real,” Gale said as she, too, moved toward one of the cases.

Tara left your side to go to Sam, the both of them studying each case. You watched her carefully. Watched the way she hovered her scarred hand over her midsection, almost protectively. Watched the way her eyes darted all around the room, almost as if looking for the ghosts that haunted her even though she tried to push them out.

Your heart waged a war with your head as Tara continued to walk around, her hand lightly running over the glass, or almost-but-not-quite touching one of the items. Did you go over and reminisce with her? Or did you let her process everything on her own, without fear of your judgment or pity? If it were you, you weren’t entirely sure which you would prefer either.

In the end, you decided to let her process everything with Sam. They had both gone through the same thing and had already survived two Ghostfaces together, they could be there for each other. You watched her for just a few more moments before shaking your head slowly and walking over to where Gale was still standing in front of a specific glass case.

“That’s Dewey,” she said softly, her eyes glued to a notebook with drawings in it. Beside it was a knife.

Your jaw clenched.

“He had wanted to meet you,” she said, looking up at you with teary eyes and a sad smile. “Before everything.”

You nodded slowly. “I hear he was a good man.”

“The best,” she confirmed.

“Is that the knife?” You asked as you uncrossed your arms from your chest.

“Yeah,” she said with her own nod. “They used it on Tara too.”

You both turned slowly until you were looking at the stage, where both Sam and Tara were standing and looking at the Ghostface costumes. The blood in your veins boiled, leaving behind a deep ache that you couldn’t quite explain. With a forced huff through your nose, you turned back to look at the knife.

Amber had used it. She had used it on Tara. How could she do that? How could she try to kill her own girlfriend for, what, clout? To be known as the one who took down a Legacy? It made you furious and left your whole body shaking. Your family had done many things, but killing someone you loved had never been one of them. It took a real monster to do such a thing.

You had no sympathy for monsters.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Gale said. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her staring at you. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.

“I don’t want her to see it,” you said slowly.

There was a second of hesitation. “Be quiet about it.”

Gale walked away to go stand beside the girls, and you waited until their backs were to you before you dug around in your pocket. It was a simple tool, one Joel had gotten for your birthday way back in the day. With the practiced ease of a professional, you picked the lock to the glass case and opened the lid. You looked back at the stage to make sure they weren’t watching before you reached in and grabbed the knife.

It felt heavy in your hand. You weren’t entirely sure if it was from the actual weight, or the knowledge of who’s blood it had spilled. Whatever the case, you carefully slid it into your boot, being careful not to knick your ankle. It wouldn’t do you any good to hurt yourself while trying to be sneaky.

The cold steel of the blade was jarring as you finally started making your way up to the stage. All three women were still standing there, looking at all the different costumes stuck in their displays. It was haunting, like they were all staring down at you. How could the three of them be perfectly fine just standing in the middle of them? The feeling made your head spin.

“They’re creepier without anyone in them,” you mumbled. You hadn’t intended for anyone to hear, but everyone turned to look at you.

“That’s because you haven’t seen them kill your friends yet,” Sam said with a roll of her eyes before she stalked away.

“I didn’t-”

“-I’ll go talk to her,” Gale said. She patted your unhurt shoulder before walking off to join Sam on the other side of the theatre.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you immediately said once you were left alone with Tara. She turned to face you with softened eyes.

“I know,” she said before walking over to sit on the edge of the stage. Her legs hung off the side and you noticed her shoulders slump.

You quickly moved to sit on her left, being careful not to jostle your stitches a little too much. It happened anyway, but you tried to keep your pained huffs to yourself. Fortunately, Tara didn’t seem to notice; she was far too lost in her own thoughts.

The score from one of the Stab movies quietly echoed throughout the enormous room. It wasn’t loud enough to truly draw one’s attention, but you heard it. Whatever psycho had created the shrines must have kept a running loop of the movies. What kind of sicko would keep shrines to a murderer? No, scratch that, to multiple murderers?

No one understood murder paraphernalia quite like your family; you knew what kind of money you could get off selling them. Whoever had created the shrine must have dropped massive money on all of the items. Or, which could be likely for all you knew, they knew the owner of most of the items. Which would mean they were a suspect for this next Ghostface crew.

Wait. That might be right on the money, actually.

“You need to go home,” Tara said quietly, drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned to look at her, but she wasn’t looking at you.

“What?” You asked.

She turned her head slightly. “You need to go home.”

“Why would I do that?” You furrowed your brows. That statement didn't make any sense, what did she think you were, a coward?

“They’re after Woodsboro,” she said. “You’re not Woodsboro.”

“So?” You asked with a shake of your head. “Out of this current predicament, I’ve got more stitches than all of you combined, save dear Anika.”

“Which is why you should leave,” she continued. “No sense dying over something that isn’t your fight.”

“What makes you think I’m gonna die?” You asked.

Tara went silent and finally looked at you full-on. There was almost a resignation in her eyes. What could possibly be going on in her head that would have her saying such ridiculous things? You weren’t a coward and you certainly weren’t going to die. Vitales didn’t die, they got their revenge. And you were just one Ghostface call away from losing your shit.

“The love interest always dies,” she finally said with a shrug. It wasn’t very convincing.

“So I’m the love interest now?” You asked. If she didn’t lighten up soon, you were going to lose it.

“I’m not playing this game with you,” she huffed.

“Tara.” You reached out to grab her left hand, but she quickly recoiled as if you had shocked her. Her scarred hand quickly found a new home in her lap. You did your best not to show how badly that simple move had hurt you.

“I don’t want to get hurt again,” she said softly. “So leave before I make you.”

“Then make me leave,” you said. Her head turned sharply. “Because I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

She wanted to argue. You could see it on her face that she wanted to refute your statement. Maybe she would have said something hurtful, something to make you regret associating with her. Or she would go low, insulting you and pushing you away until you wanted to leave. She was more than welcome to try; it wouldn’t change your mind.

You heard her swallow harshly. She looked at you for a few more moments, holding your gaze. Her eyes darted back and forth between yours, and you did your best to keep your features soft. Her insistence on you leaving was still raising your blood pressure, but you weren’t going to let her know that. She had enough on her plate anyway.

A soft, almost silent sigh fell from her slightly parted lips. It was a sigh you often heard from your Pop when he was going over reports for the week; a sigh of resignation and acceptance. Extremely heavy underneath the silence of it all. You wished you could take it all away from her, take all the weight off her shoulders.

Tara let her body fall to the side until her head was resting on your shoulder, and you both just looked out at the Ghostface paraphernalia. What did she feel when she saw those things? Was it a fear that she would be attacked again, that maybe she wouldn’t make it to the end again? Or was it anger at the whole situation, at whoever was trying to attack her this time? Or maybe it was just a mix of everything, you weren’t sure and quite frankly, you knew better than to ask.

You were simply angry. Pure and simple.

“You’re really not leaving?” Tara asked, her voice fragile.

“I mean,” you shrugged with one shoulder to avoid disturbing her, “I’ll have to leave to pee at some point.”

“You’re such a dick,” she huffed as she sat up.

“But aside from that you’re stuck with me,” you said with a smile.

“I hate you,” she shook her head and looked at you.

“Sure you do,” you said. Her eyes flickered to your lips, and you leaned down to-

“-ahem.”

You both sat up quickly, separating yourselves as much as possible. Sam and Gale were standing in front of you. Sam very much didn’t look happy and, quite frankly, almost looked like she would rip your head off if given the chance. Which she probably would. Gale, on the other hand, was barely even trying to hide her little smirk.

“Done reminiscing over your daddy issues?” You asked Sam.

“Just shut up,” Tara whispered.

“Done harassing my sister?” Sam asked back.

“Not harassment if she likes it,” you shot back.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Tara said loudly. “What’s our next move?”

“You and I stick together,” Sam said. “We need to go check up on Anika and the twins.”

“Productive,” you said with a nod. “While you go socialise, Gale and I will solve this case.”

“It’s not some murder mystery game,” Sam said with a pointed look at you. “These guys are lethal.”

“So am I,” you said slowly, drawing out each word. “And I’m gonna figure this shit out before someone else gets hurt.”

“You’re already hurt,” Tara said quietly with a frown.

“Before someone gets more hurt,” you corrected. “I’ll find your guy in 24 hours or your money back, guaranteed.”

“Can you ever take anything seriously?” Sam asked with a tilt of her head.

“Not at all,” you answered with a smile.

“We’re really separating?” Tara asked. “Do you really think that’s the smartest thing to do?”

“You’ll be with the trio,” you said. “And Gale has survived, what, 11 Ghostfaces?” She nodded in the affirmative. “So I think we’re okay.”

“Then let’s get going,” Sam said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “This place is starting to give me the creeps.”

Both you and Tara slid off the stage until you were standing with the other two, all looking at each other and waiting for someone to make the first move. When no one did, you decided it would have to be you. Pop had taught you to be a leader, you supposed. If they needed someone to keep them safe and lead the way, you would take that responsibility upon yourself.

The sun was still blindingly bright when you all walked out of the abandoned building. Everyone blinked rapidly, trying to ease their eyes back to the amount of light. It was almost like when you walked out of a movie theatre in the middle of the day; logically you knew it was still daytime, but you weren’t expecting the sun. If everyone hadn’t been so grumpy and serious, you would’ve laughed at them.

“Keep your phones on,” Sam said once you all made it back to the street. “And call if you hear anything.”

“Yes, mom,” you huffed. “God, I almost preferred it when you hated me.”

“I still do,” she said quickly. But you could see the slightest softening of her eyes.

“Seriously,” Tara chimed in, looking directly into your eyes. It was almost uncomfortable. “Call.”

“We got it, damn,” you said, “chill out.”

“That’s not something you say to people trying to keep you safe,” Gale mumbled into your ear.

“Anyway,” you said pointedly, “go check on everyone. We’ll call if we need something.”

“Or if something happens,” Tara emphasises.

“Or if something happens,” you repeat back to her.

She wasn’t very happy with you, it was more than obvious. Not that you could exactly blame her, again, you understood her situation. Well, you mostly understood her situation. If someone had been going after your loved ones - aside from the obvious situation at hand - you would have been paranoid and extra worried too. She had every right to be concerned.

But you knew your shit.

“Okay,” Tara finally said softly with a single nod. “Yeah, okay.” It was as if she was trying to convince herself that you would be fine.

You had this.

“Get goin’,” you teased Tara when Sam and Gale started to go their separate ways. “Sam might go all Ghostface on me.”

“I’m serious about being careful,” she said as her fingers absentmindedly brushed against one of the bruises on your arm.

“I got this,” you said. “I’m Italian, remember?”

“You’re insufferable,” she said even as she gave you a little smirk.

“You like it,” you said with your own smile.

You looked around for a second, just to make sure Sam wasn’t watching, before leaning down and kissing Tara. Her lips were soft, just like they always were. It wasn’t a long kiss; there were too many things going on and, quite frankly, you were both rather distracted. But it was comforting, and you wanted to remind her that you weren’t going anywhere unless the devil himself came and dragged you down to hell.

“Be safe,” Tara mumbled against your lips when she pulled away.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered.

You pressed one more chaste kiss to her lips before standing up. She walked backwards for a bit, keeping her eyes locked with yours. When she finally spun back around to catch up with Sam, your stomach dropped. It didn’t feel right for her to be walking away. That foreboding feeling settled deep in your stomach and you frowned.

“You coming, Romeo?” Gale called out, and you spun quickly to see her standing a lot closer than you had thought.

“Can you be a normal person for just five minutes?” You asked as you both started walking off to her apartment.

“You like her,” she said, the both of you falling into step with each other. A power team for sure, you had no doubt.

“A lot,” you said quickly. “I’m not throwing the L word out just yet, but you know.” You shrugged.

“But it’s likely,” Gale teased. You refused to look at her, but you could hear the smile in her voice.

You paused. “It’s likely.”

The rest of the walk to the apartment was nice. It was just turning into spring and the weather was starting to warm up, and the streets didn’t smell so much like rotting garbage. Hell, the air was practically crystal clear! You had never breathed so clearly in your life! The world was looking up, that was for sure.

You both waved hello to Michael the Doorman when you walked into the apartment complex. He smiled back and waved, bidding you both a good afternoon. You had always liked Michael; he was sweet. And in a fight? There was no doubt he was lethal, you didn’t have that many muscles purely for aesthetic, not in New York. You trusted him with Gale’s life.

That was a hard trust to earn.

“You should tell her,” Gale said when the elevator doors closed and started heading up to the apartment. “Once this is over.”

“Tell her what?” You asked even though you had an idea.

“That you “likely” feel the L word for her.” Her words were teasing, but her tone said something different.

You didn’t say anything in reply. The elevator doors opened and you both quickly made your way to her apartment, and you listened to her lock all the locks while you walked over to the kitchen and threw open the fridge door. If Gale had asked you what was in it, you couldn’t have told her; you might have been looking but you weren’t seeing.

The thought of telling Tara how you felt had you cottonmouthed. Sure, you were fighting against a serial killer together, but that wasn’t near as terrifying as talking about your feelings! How were you going to explain any of that to her? She barely even tolerated you at this point (at least she pretended to). You were catching on that it was a defense mechanism, but still. It was enough to give you pause.

“What do we have for dinner later?” Gale asked, popping up beside you once again. You didn’t even flinch.

“I don’t even know,” you admitted before closing the fridge door. “Wanna just order takeout?”

“That Korean place on the corner?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, already salivating at the thought of that stunningly beautiful seafood hot pot. Oh, now you definitely couldn’t wait until dinner.

You and Gale separated for an hour, using the time to refresh yourselves and rest. It was a wonderful routine you had both come up with back in the day when you would sneak into her apartment after nearly getting into some deep shit. You had only needed to surprise her the first time before she learned, and she made sure to keep spare things for you.

And thankfully, you had stashed away some of your things too.

You finished tightening the bulletproof vest before heading back to the living room. It was old, a little worn, but it was still good. There was no expectation for gunshots, but you knew it could keep you at least mostly safe from a knife. If those fuckers were going to come for you, you were going to be prepared. The painful stretch of stitches reminded you how important that was.

“I’m going to go ahead and order dinner,” Gale said when you plopped onto the couch and started setting up your laptop. “The usual?”

“Yes please,” you called out. Your fingers flew across the keys, desperately searching for something that you weren’t prepared to see.

Wait.

“Did you just order three meals?” You asked, turning around and throwing your arm over the back of the couch.

Gale froze. “Yes I did.”

“Don’t you dare bring your boy toy in here tonight,” you said with a pointed finger. “I’m not in the mood to play nice.”

“We all need our stress relief,” she shot back, walking around the room until she sat next to you on the couch. “You should try it, you know.”

“There’s a killer targeting us and you’re bringing him?” You groaned. “He’s going to get us killed.”

“There’s strength in numbers, Y/N,” Gale said softly. You sighed and leaned back.

“I’m not afraid to push him in between you and Ghostface,” you finally said.

“I know,” she said with her own small smile. “What are you looking for?”

“My motive,” you said as you turned back to the laptop.

“Is that security footage?” She asked, leaning closer to look at your screen.

“Of Tara’s house from last year,” you explained.

She jolted back as if shocked. “You’re going to watch the attack?”

“I have to, Gale,” you sighed. “I have to see it.”

“You won’t ever get those images or sounds out of your head,” she said.

“I’ve seen attacks before,” you said with a shrug. It didn’t ease the shake in your hands.

“Not on someone you love,” she said far too softly. It was cutting.

“I have to watch this and the hospital,” you said. “I have to.”

“Why?” Gale asked. “Why do you have to put those things in your head?”

“Because,” you said, finally turning to look her in the eyes. You didn’t think you had ever seen her look so sad. “I need to guarantee I’m pissed enough to kill the fucker.”

The sadness on Gale’s face slowly morphed into something else. Her eyes trailed away until she was staring at your laptop screen once again. You wouldn’t dare watch the hospital if she was in the room, not when you knew Dewey had been killed there. But hopefully she would understand.

You knew the images and sounds would haunt you until the day you died. There was no way you would ever be able to get it out of your head. Yes, you were no stranger to death, but to watch someone you… appreciated getting tortured and used for nothing but sadistic joy? It set off something primal, an anger you didn’t think you had ever felt yet.

Those fuckers would have it coming.

“Come get me when you’re done,” Gale said with an absentminded nod. “And stop if you need to.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said just as softly.

She barely let you finish before she got up and left. You didn’t blame her. But when she was finally gone, you weren’t so sure you wanted to watch the footage anymore. Could you handle such a thing? Could you genuinely handle watching Tara get hurt? You weren’t so sure.

But you needed to be sure you could kill if needed.

You didn’t give yourself time to change your mind before pressing play on the footage. The vest dug into the tops of your thighs as you leaned forward to get a better look. Her house was nice; why she was alone, though, you had no idea. You would need to ask her about it. Shouldn’t she have been out having fun with her friends?

Just like Pop had taught you, you ceaselessly searched every inch of the screen for some sort of warning. Tara wouldn’t have known that, of course, but you wanted to see where she had missed Ghostface. If you could find where the fucker usually came from, you could prevent it from happening again. Yeah, they were different people, but they seemed to follow some ridiculous movie pattern anyway.

They needed to be more original.

The moment you saw the fear on Tara’s face and heard it in her voice, you knew the footage had done its job. You saw red before Ghostface even appeared. To watch the struggle, hear her screams, see her blood smeared around the house… it was more than enough. Your stomach twisted in knots and you felt sick.

And yet, you clicked on the next clip to watch the hospital.

That one almost made you even more furious, which you hadn’t expected. Tara was already injured and weak, and yet the bastard came back for more? For what, an added little “fuck you?” You quickly understood why Tara had that almost unnoticeable limp.

You turned the footage off before Dewey was killed. There had already been enough destruction, you couldn’t watch the love of Gale’s life get murdered in cold blood. It was all too much, you couldn’t handle another one. And besides, Gale was right. The sounds of Tara’s desperate cries and screams were already bouncing around the inside of your skull.

Your phone rang on the table beside your laptop, and you subconsciously picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Sick to your stomach yet?”

Fuck.

You slammed your laptop closed and stood up, practically sprinting to Gale’s room. She was sitting on her bed reading a book, and for a moment you just looked at her. She looked so peaceful. There was no stress of a news story, nothing about a new book, she was just… your godmother Gale again. You missed seeing her like that.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You paused. He had used that exact phrase before. Maybe the same suspect was the caller each time.

“Gale,” you whisper-shouted. She looked up at you with a smile before seeing the phone in your hand.

“Is it him?” She asked.

You just nodded.

“I’m not afraid of a little blood,” you said into the phone, waiting until Gale was right beside you before heading back to the living room.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Not at all,” you said. You quickly reached down to pull the Ghostface knife from your boot. “You’re just a coward in a mask.”

“How did you like the film?”

The knife was heavy in your palm as you stood back-to-back with Gale. “Last movie I watched was Titanic,” you answered. “It was okay.”

“That’s a lie.” A creak had you turning your head to face the balcony. Empty. “You watched Pearl on your date night with Tara.”

How did he know that?

“I was watching Tara, not the movie,” you said. Where was he? “It doesn’t count.”

“I mean the one where dear Tara was the star.” A shiver went down your spine. “She might be the next Scream Queen.”

You saw red.

“The villain was below par,” you said. Another phone rang, and you felt Gale move behind you. “Let the Opening Kill turn into a Final Girl.”

You turned your body slightly to see Gale put the phone on speaker and wait. It was agonising. The static coming through the speaker was like mosquitos near your ear; constant and irritating with no way to stop it. As much as you despised them, you would hand it to them; they knew how to make things hurt.

“Hello, Gale.” The blood drained from her face. “You both look lovely this evening.”

Keep him talking, you mouthed to Gale, who nodded.

“I was wondering if you would ever call me,” she said as you turned back around to look out at the room. “I was starting to feel left out.”

“I figured you were.” You hung up your own phone and texted Tara. “After all, I’ve called your little godchild twice already.”

“Want to ask your question?” She asked. You slid your phone into your back pocket; you didn’t need an answer. “Or are you just going to shoot the breeze?”

“I don’t have any questions for you.” You reached your free hand back until you could touch Gale; you needed to keep track of where she was at all times. “I have one for your little guest, though.”

“Ask away,” you said without taking your eyes off the room. “I’m an open book.”

“How much would you sacrifice for your dear, sweet godmother?”

Behind you, Gale stiffened.

“I’d sacrifice my left nut,” you chuckled. “Maybe my right tit too.”

“How about your life?”

Your blood ran cold. Gale’s hand reached back and grabbed your forearm, squeezing it tight enough to bruise. Her nails dug into your skin when she turned around and stood beside you, looking out at the room. The air was heavy, suffocating.

The sound of boots hitting the wooden floor was deafening.

Your stomach dropped when two cloaked figures stepped into the room, walking in tandem until they stood in front of you.

Sam was right. They were more terrifying with people underneath the masks.

“Let’s play a game.”

“This isn’t Saw,” you said quickly.

Neither of the Ghostfaces in front of you had a phone to their ear. The call was too clear for a bluetooth headset.

There was a third killer.

“Drop the knife and step forward.” Gale’s grip on your arm tightened. “Or I’ll pay your dear Tara a visit.”

The phone vibrated in Gale’s hand, and you both looked at the screen. It was an image. An image of Tara sitting in the hospital room with everyone else, including an awake Anika, laughing at something. Her phone was upside down on the table beside her.

She hadn’t seen your text.

You looked at Gale. She was already shaking her head, but you couldn’t just let that creep get Tara. The whole gang was there, but two of them were injured and it was a hospital. Honestly, the last time Tara had been in a hospital, it hadn’t ended well. And with two of them, you weren’t going to keep Gale safe on your own.

It was a zero-sum game.

“Still have that birthday present I got you?” You asked when you handed her the knife. She nodded once. “Don’t forget it.”

You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before turning around and heading to stand in front of the two Ghostfaces.

“Turn around.”

“You’re a bossy motherfucker, you know that?” You called out, but did as instructed.

A sharp pain went through your leg when one of them kicked the back of your knee. Another shot went up your spine when you fell into a kneeling position.

“Let’s play a game.” Gale locked eyes with you. “I’ll ask you a few questions. Every wrong answer leads to a stabbing.”

“And every right answer?” She asked.

“No stabbing.”

You exhaled shakily and your jaw tightened.

“Simple enough,” she said. “First question?”

“I’ll start easy.” You nervously licked your lips. “Which movie is Jack Torrence in?”

“The Shining,” Gale answered quickly.

“Very good.” One of the boots behind you started tapping against the floor. “Who was the very first kill of the Stab franchise?”

“Before the film plot? Or during?” Gale asked. You hid your smirk. She was far too smart for her own good sometimes.

“During.”

“Casey Brecker,” she answered quickly.

“Ooh, not quite, Gale.” Your stomach dropped. “It was actually-”

“-Casey’s boyfriend!” She shouted quickly, snapping her fingers near her temple. “Steven. Steven, uh, Orth!”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. You both locked eyes with each other. Was he going to accept it? She had corrected it before he had, it counted, right? Jesus fuck, is this what he put Tara through??

“I’ll accept it this once.” You both sighed. “But with a small price.”

You hissed when a sudden pain radiated from your thigh. Looking down quickly you saw blood already starting to soak through your jeans.

“Next question.” You looked back up at Gale quickly. She better get the next one right; these fuckers weren’t playing around. “How many kills has Ghostface gotten?”

“I don’t know,” Gale whispered. “I don’t know.”

“Tick-tock, Gale.” Boots thumped on the floor behind you. “Or we’ll add another one to the count.”

“Just give me a second,” she rushed. Her lips were moving as she counted, doing the mental calculations.

You could feel someone standing directly behind you. Not to the side, but so close you could feel their body heat against your back. Could he see the bulletproof vest? Oh god, you hoped not. Oh please don’t see the vest, please don’t see the-

“-time’s up.”

Gale’s eyes went wide before you felt something hit your back with enough force to send you forward onto your hands. Something hurt, but you couldn’t tell if it was the knife or the sheer force of the stab. The room was silent.

You froze.

“It seems you’ve cheated.” You looked up at Gale; you didn’t think you had ever seen so much sheer terror in her eyes before. “You’re not a very good sport.”

A hand grabbed you by the shoulder and yanked you back up to your feet. You bit down harshly on your tongue when of the fingers dug into some stitches. The taste of metal was nauseating. A second hand grabbed you by the jaw.

“We don’t play well with cheaters.”

“Don’t,” Gale said. She wasn’t even talking into the phone anymore. “Please don’t.”

“Birthday gift,” you said through clenched teeth. “Go.”

“Say good night, Gale.”

“Gale just-”

-Gale screamed-

-your hammering heart stopped when the cold steel slid through your flesh. It didn’t hurt.

The blade was cold against your tongue.

Why was Gale crying?

The blade ripped forward, tearing through your cheeks.

Your head jerked to the side as your body fell forward. By some miracle, you caught yourself with your hands, keeping you bent over. Something wet fell down your cheeks.

A red puddle started to form underneath you.

“You should run, Gale.”

You heard something drop to the floor. Light footsteps were quickly followed by heavy boots. It felt like you were trying to breathe through water. The liquid was thick in your mouth but you couldn’t swallow.

Three gunshots echoed through the apartment.

Gale. You needed to go help Gale.

Your head swam as you tried to push yourself up to your feet. There was a slight throb in your entire face. Something felt sticky. You lifted a hand to your mouth to wipe it off as you finally got to your feet.

When you pulled it away, it was dripping red.

Something vibrated in your back pocket. You continued to stumble your way down the hallway.

The vibrating continued.

Gale had to be somewhere close. Birthday gift. She kept it in her closet. In a safe. Ghostface didn’t carry guns. It would keep her safe and she would be okay-

-another gunshot-

-something slammed into your chest. You stumbled back, hitting the wall. Everything in front of you started twisting and turning.

Something wet dripped down your fingertips.

You let your shaky knees give out underneath you as you slid to the floor. The thump of your heart was felt in your mouth.

"Oh my god, Y/N."

Something clashed to the floor.

"Look at me, baby, open your eyes."

But they felt so heavy. You forced them open anyway. Why was Gale crying?

Something solid thumped on the floor.

And again.

"Take another step and I'll gut you like a fish."

She sounded so angry.

Your eyes started to fall shut.

"No, Y/N, don't close your eyes."

Your fingers were cold.

"Wake up, goddammit!"

Just a few minutes.

Your eyes closed.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega

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heretherebedork · 11 months ago

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I still can't believe that we finally got Mhok admitting his trauma and speaking up about his own pain and how he blames himself for his sister's suicide and that this is how the show chose to handle that.

We finally saw Mhok completely vulnerable, expressing his fear and his pain and the guilt that weighs him down, literally saying that he didn't answer her call and lost the person he most loved in the world and that Day's reaction to that is to break up with him.

It's not to comfort him or to talk to him, it's not to approach him, it's not even to try to understand.

It's to instantly center Day's discomfort with Mhok's guilt and grief and how he expresses himself and then send him away. Because Mhok being anything less than perfect is too much for Day to handle.

Day's mom can take his cell phone, cut off his internet and outright state that she would rather lock him up in his room and have him there and safe than out and happy but if Mhok dares to admit that he isn't comfortable going overseas because of his own trauma and pain that he's been trying to hide and hold onto on his own... that's too much.

Mhok was truly vulnerable, trusting their love and their relationship to be able to see that he was opening himself up in a way he hasn't to anyone else. We haven't even seen him tell this to Porjai and he has no one else and Day's response was to not just push him away but to tell him that if he didn't let himself be pushed away he was doing the one thing Mhok had promised himself he would never do.

Yes, Mhok admitted that he didn't like leaving Day alone or being where he couldn't easily get to him but he also explained the trauma of his loss and the guilt he carried from it and the blame he put on his own shoulders and Day didn't think any of that was worth comfort. None of that was worth anything with the boyfriend that he loved so much, that none of his boyfriend's pain could possibly be acceptable in their relationship.

No, Mhok had to be perfect at all times, had to hold his sister's memory in light and never worry about Day and never make a choice based on wanting to be there for a person he loved instead of just pursuing a career so he could 'take care of Day' with money instead of his presence.

The instant Mhok let himself be vulnerable, let himself try to lean on Day the way Day has so often leaned on him, he was summarily rejected and sent away to cry alone, to grieve both the loss of his sister and the loss his boyfriend, to face that he can never be vulnerable because being vulnerable and being hurt means that he cannot be loved.

Why? Why? I know episode 11 is meant to hurt but this feels like the wrong hurt. What did the show want me to feel here? Am I supposed to take away that Day only wanted Mhok as a boyfriend when he was Day's pillar and not when he needed Day to be a solid foundation for his healing? Am I supposed to think that Mhok was wrong to want to stay with Day and work on his career in Thailand rather than in Hawai'i?

Mhok would have lied to anyone in that moment because his want to stay with his lover was based in past trauma, in the loss of Rung, not in what was happening in the present. He admitted that. He was clear about that, that this was about his trauma and his pain and, apparently, that means he has to be alone.

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dewdrops-whammy-bar · 10 days ago

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TDF chapter 3: Smile

The past few months have been rough for me but I’m back on that fanfiction grind.

Dew is having a real bad time in this one. This is the only chapter where his headspace will get this dark so don’t worry, he’ll be fine. This is his rock bottom and he’s going up from here.

psps I made a playlist

Read below or on ao3!

Words: 4062

Warnings: Dissociation, self-destructive behavior/allusion to self-harm, BPD split and the thoughts that come with that, flashbacks, description of physical abuse and injury, description of emotional abuse, religious trauma, panic attack, vomit mention

Taglist: @skele-bunny @rain-loves-scallops @dewphomet @0-miles-away

Dew taps the bottom of a tiny espresso mug on the counter and tosses it back like a shot. Unfortunately, it’s very hot. He should’ve known that, considering he had just made it, but he was tired. Which is why he’s currently choking down a scalding shot of espresso at 8 in the morning.

“Fuck- god-“ Dew hisses, diving for the sink to fill the tiny cup with water to soothe his burning mouth. It helps a little. “Ow- goddamnit-“

Luckily everyone else is in the kitchen, so Dew is saved from embarrassment for now. He places the little mug into the dirty dish bin and returns his attention to setting up the grinders. Ow. There goes my sense of taste.

Cumulus pushes the curtain in the kitchen doorway out of the way, carrying a tray of various baked goods with her. Dew steps aside to let her pass and she gets to work stocking the glass display case.

“You doin’ alright, hun?” She asks, setting muffins onto a tray in perfectly even rows. “Sorry we had to call ya in early, Sunny’s got some kinda stomach bug.”

“I’m alright, it’s no problem.” Dew lies through his teeth. It’s not like he’d been up all night, grinding his teeth and pacing. He just has to make it through the next five hours and then he can go home and sleep.

Cumulus cocks a bushy eyebrow at him but says nothing. She offers him a cranberry muffin from the tray. Dew takes it gratefully.

“Take care of yourself today, Dew.” She tells him softly before turning back to the pastry trays. Dew nods silently, too busy shoving the muffin into his mouth to answer. He checks the clock- ten minutes to opening.

Luckily, he can somewhat taste the muffin with his scorched tongue. It cheers him up slightly. Unfortunately the heavy tightness in his chest and throat doesn’t budge. It’s been there since last night when the shell holding all his unhelpful emotions in a tight little ball cracked and began to leak.

“Well look who’s up!” Swiss crows, sweeping past Dew to restock the stack of paper to-go bags in a drawer behind the counter. “Never thought I’d see you conscious before ten AM. What was it? An act of god? Three ghosts showing up and convincing you to have a change of heart?”

“Sunny’s hangover, actually.” Dew rolls his eyes. “Didn’t think she’d be the kind of person to drink on a Sunday night.”

“Oh, no, she’s actually sick.” Swiss’s normally cheerful, slightly mischievous expression fades for a moment. “I got up at 5 to get her ginger ale and saltines, and you know how much she hates bothering people.” He chews on his lip.

“Shit, sorry.” Guilt joins the wad of half-chewed emotions in Dew’s gut. “I hope she’s doing okay.”

“Me too,” Swiss sighs. “She’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He takes the hair tie off his wrist and pulls his locs back into their usual high ponytail. “I would offer to take the register but Cirrus wants me in the kitchen.”

Dew sighs. “I’ll try not to kill anyone.”

“Good luck.” Swiss gives a two-finger salute and disappears back into the kitchen. Dew walks around the counter, trudges to the front door, and unlocks it. The neon ‘open’ sign is flicked on. Dew looks at his reflection in the window in the harsh light. He looks half-dead. Feels like it too.

He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and heaves a sigh. If he has to take an extra smoke break to give himself the strength to make it through his shift, so be it. His lungs aren’t getting any less shriveled.

Dew is pulled from his tired thoughts by a soft tap on the glass door. He sighs again and lowers his hands to pull the cafe door open. “Sorry, come in. Spaced out a bit.”

“No worries. Good to see you again, though!” A familiar voice, deep and smooth and the subject of a few late-night fantasies. Dew’s head snaps up fast enough to make his neck pop. Aether stands before him, wearing- oh good lord, are those scrubs ?

“Uh- give me a sec.” Dew scampers back behind the counter and takes the precious few seconds he has to process this new information. He curses his stupid medical kink. If there is a god, he has a sick sense of humor.

He taps on the dark screen of the register, willing it to turn on. After a few seconds of increasingly harder taps on the display, he realizes he should press the on button. Why didn’t he turn it on before opening?

“Um- it takes a minute to turn on.” Dew chuckles nervously. Unlike me, who’s pitching a tent over a customer in scrubs.

“That’s alright. I’m not in a hurry.” Aether smiles. “I usually wouldn’t come in until later but I have to shadow a nurse this morning. Twelve hour shift on a Monday.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Is that what you’re studying?” Dew asks, his hands frantically navigating to the right screen. Curse this stupid digital register. “Nursing, I mean.”

“Yeah!” Aether seems to perk up. “I’m specializing in obstetrics and neonatal care. Midwife stuff.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” Dew answers sincerely. Would he give me a pelvic exam if I as-

SHUT UP, Dew scolds his horny thoughts. The register finally boots up to the transaction screen and he sighs with relief.

“What can I get for ya?” He asks, holding back a yawn. Aether considers the menu on the back wall for a moment.

“Hmm… I’d like a large iced dirty chai with… four shots of espresso.” Aether requests. Dew raises an eyebrow as he punches in the order.

“Four? You trying to meet a fifth dimensional being today?” He jokes, grabbing a cold cup and a sharpie.

To his surprise and delight, Aether giggles, ending in an adorable snort. “Nah, I just need a lotta energy. Twelve hour shift, remember?”

“Yeah- I think I’d do the same.” Dew rings up the order. “Uh- $7.43.”

Aether hands over a lightly crumpled ten and his punch card. Dew punches it- a smiley face this time- and slides it back over the counter with Aether’s change. “I’ll have that ready soon.”

“Thanks.” Aether smiles- that goddamn smile- and steps back to stuff his change back into his wallet. Dew’s tired mind drifts as he goes into autopilot making the espresso. He’d like to see that smile and those crooked teeth more. Especially if he was the one causing Aether to smile.

Then his daydreams come crashing down. A guy like Aether was surely taken. He had a partner, a fiancé, maybe even a spouse. Dew wasn’t going to break up a relationship because of a fleeting crush.

It’ll pass . He scolds himself. The chai concentrate and milk are added to the cup and the espresso is poured on top. You have to get yourself together. Focus on what’s important. He doesn’t smile as he slides the drink across the counter toward Aether.

“Here ya go,” he recites in his customer service voice. “Have a good one.”

“You too, thanks Dew.” Aether smiles as he scoops up his drink- god, his hands are huge. Dew waits until the man is out the door before slamming the side of his fist against the countertop in anger. Tears prickle at his eyes- why does everything have to be so hard ? Why can’t he just focus on work and making music and functioning as an adult without his feelings getting in the way?

He wants to scream and curl up in a ball under the register counter and cry. It reminds him of the time he’d accidentally dropped a bottle of some mechanical fluid while poking around his father’s tool shed. The aged plastic had cracked and begun leaking dark and sticky fluid onto his favorite shoes. He’d tried to fix it, put duct tape over the crack and scrubbed the cement floor clean, but his shoes were ruined. He had begged his parents for them, red and yellow with velcro closures and the number 95 emblazoned across the side. Cars was his favorite movie for most of his childhood. He had crawled under the workbench and cried until his father found him and scolded him for snooping.

That same cornered, hopeless feeling blooms in his chest now. He wants to go home- at least now he has a home. That scared little girl never had a “home” to go to. All she could do was hunker down and weather the punches.

Dew thinks he would rather relive his entire teenage experience than have his own mind turn against him like this. He’s scared and tired and he doesn’t know what to do. So he does the easiest thing he can think of- shuts down his brain and takes orders. During quieter moments, he cleans the machines. He has to keep his hands busy. He makes a to-do list in his brain:

Take a nap once I get home

Re-string guitar

Shower- NO JERKING OFF.

Check on that tupperware of mold in the fridge, note new colors. Report back to Rain.

Some time passes. He takes orders, warms baked goods, gives customers hollow smiles, and doesn’t. think. This works until his smoke break. Dew sparks up a cigarette and uses the taste of smoke to ground himself.

Nurse Aether would have a fit if he caught me smoking. Dew thinks to himself with a dry chuckle. The hoodie he’d brought with him isn’t warm enough to keep him comfortable so he cuts his smoke break short and heads inside. He stops at the cramped employee bathroom to piss.

Ohhhhh. That’s why I’ve been feeling like shit.

Luckily the box of menstrual products under the sink is fully stocked. Dew digs out a tampon, grinding his teeth at the gaudy pink wrapper. It doesn’t usually bother him but right now it feels like a kick in the ribs while he’s already down.

You go girl! The wrapper taunts him. Dew throws it back into the box and pulls out another one. #Girlboss! It reads.

“Okay, well, fuck you too.” Dew grumbles. He pulls out another one- Breathe and center yourself. That wouldn’t be too bad, if not for the Venus symbol emblazoned next to the words. He tosses that one back too and groans.

God, he wants to go home. That way he can put on his period boxers and not worry about shoving chemical-filled cotton up his pussy. A pad would move around too much in his boxers so he’s forced to resort to the alternative.

Dew gives the tampons one last try. They’re merciful this time, giving him a yellow wrapper and the words dream big.

One haphazard insertion (cold fingers are not the most dexterous with smooth plastic) later, he’s feeling slightly more put together. At least his pants are black today.

His reflection looks back at him in the mirror- he swears the hollows of his throat and cheekbones seem sharper than usual. He looks like a skeleton. He feels sweaty, even though his fingers are still numb from the cold. His tongue and throat are tender from that shot of near-boiling espresso. The taste of smoke makes him almost nauseous.

Dew swallows and looks at his watch. He has two hours left on his shift. His body tells him to go home but his stubbornness wins out. Two hours is nothing.

The cramps hit after about 45 minutes. Luckily Dew’s on dish duty so he can hunch over the sink and grit his teeth and power through. He just wants to go home. Cirrus pulls him aside twenty minutes later. Dew expects her to ask him to stay for another hour or two- she’s got that slightly stressed look on her face.

“How long do you need me for?” Dew asks, trying not to look too disappointed. Cirrus shakes her head.

“I want you to go home. Frankly, you look like you’ve been through war.” She pats his shoulder. “You have PTO. Give yourself a few days to rest, alright?” Dew opens his mouth to protest but she squeezes his shoulder in a comforting yet slightly threatening way. “ Rest. ”

The care and concern in her eyes is the final straw. Dew crumbles into pieces, his carefully built shell around all his emotions shattering. A sob works its way out of his throat and his knees buckle. Cirrus catches him and lets him lay his head on her shoulder.

God, he feels pathetic. He hasn’t cried in six years- not since the night he’d slipped out the back door of his parents house with his guitar, a backpack, and a greyhound bus ticket. He’d promised himself he’d be strong. Turns out it only took a sleepless night and a spiral over a fleeting crush to break him.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Cirrus murmurs to him. “Let it out. No judgement.”

“I wanna go home…” Dew whimpers into her shoulder. He’s going to get fired for this, but right now he doesn’t care.

“You can go. Take all the time you need.” Cirrus replies. “I won’t tell anyone about this.”

Dew nods. He doesn’t trust that she’ll keep his moment of weakness a secret but he appreciates the facade of security. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“You’ll come back as soon as you feel better .” Cirrus corrects him, pulling back and holding him at arm’s length. “Don’t force yourself.”

“Okay.” Dew swallows. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Cirrus shrugs. “Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” She holds out her pinky.

Dew looks at the offered finger and links his own pinkie around hers. It makes him smile a bit, he has to admit. “Deal.”

The walk home is bitterly cold and his fingers are stiff as he unlocks his door. He groans as the heat of the apartment envelops him. Thank fuck the heating system decided to work today.

Dew kicks off his boots and makes a beeline for his bedroom. He collapses into bed and burrows under the covers fully clothed. He’s fully expecting to close his eyes and drift off easily, but… sleep doesn’t take him.

Fuck. He knew he shouldn’t have overdone the caffeine today. His heart and brain are racing. He rolls onto his stomach and screams into the pillow.

The scream turns into a sob and now he’s crying again. God FUCKING damnit. He doesn’t even fight it this time. There’s no one home to witness his weakness. So Dew sobs and screams into his pillow and curls into a tear-stained ball.

He manages to cry himself to sleep for a merciful few hours. The dreams he manages to remember consist of dark rainy highways, dingy bus lighting, and faceless strangers.

Dew drifts awake sometime later to the sound of Rain’s footsteps. For a guy built like uncooked spaghetti, he can really stomp.

Through the gaps in his curtains he can see that it’s dark. Granted, it’s November so that could mean it’s anytime between 5 PM and 8 AM.

He looks around blearily for his phone and discovers it in the pocket of his jeans. He’s shivering and absolutely soaked in sweat. Gross.

It’s 6 PM. Five and a half hours of sleep are better than nothing. Dew drags himself out of bed with a pained groan and pushes his hair out of his face. Shower, then eat.

So he does just that- peels his clothes off in front of the bathroom mirror, turns the water temperature up as hot as he can stand, and stands in the shower for what feels like hours until the stickiness melts off his skin. He tastes salt- he’s crying again.

“ Why?” Dew whimpers to himself, sinking to his knees. His chest aches deeply as he takes desperate gulps of air. Oh no. Please no.

His heart is pounding and his hands are shaking.

He kneels in the shower, one hand clasped over his mouth to muffle his sobs. On the shower floor is a necklace, the delicate gold chain snapped. The heart locket pendant is open, the photos inside unrecognizable from water damage.

Why was this happening now? Today of all days?

Dew wants to scream and punch the wall. He wants to rip that fucker apart with his teeth. He picks up the locket and rips the two halves apart.

He’d TRUSTED him. He’d laid on the roof and smoked weed with him, telling each other the things they each kept hidden. He’d spent countless steamy nights in the back of his car. Dew’s guitar was a birthday present from him, secretly bought with his parents’ credit card.

Then he’d turned around and told the whole school EVERYTHING. He’d gone from sharing knowing glances and stealing kisses in the school bathroom to spreading Dew’s secrets to the entire school- and worse- the church.

Dew’s jaw aches from how hard he’s clenching it. Old anger wells up in his tear ducts. He was why Dew had sworn off romance. He couldn’t be betrayed like that again. It would destroy him.

The shower starts to cool down, snapping Dew out of his misery for the moment. He gets out and dries off. He doesn’t care that he gets blood all over his towel or his hair drips all over the floor. Keep moving. Don’t let your past catch up.

So he dries his body and hair, goes through the ordeal of dealing with his tampon, and finally slips his period boxers on. He washes his face, examines the faint wisps of a mustache on his upper lip and sighs. Dysphoria is a bitch.

Dew wanders to the kitchen, still feeling hollow with exhaustion and disorientation. It doesn’t help that he’s hungry too so he digs a mini pizza out of the freezer and pops it in the microwave.

It spins. And spins. Around and around. Like swirls of blood going down the shower drain or lazy curls of smoke. Dew suddenly doesn’t feel hungry. He leaves his pizza in the microwave and curls up on the couch. The microwave beeps at him and he flips it the bird.

The crumpled paper buried in his dresser drawer crosses his mind. He could write. It seemed to help a few days ago.

Dew doesn’t feel like getting up so he snags a pen off the coffee table with his foot and rolls up his sleeve to use his arm as a makeshift journal page. There’s not much space so he tries to write down one-word descriptors. Angry. Tired. Frustrated. Violent. Betrayal. A

Dew stops before he can write the name. He licks his thumb and smears the ink away. Him. Horrible ex.

Scared. Dew pauses. He is scared. Scared of being rejected, scared of peeling away the layers of armor around his heart and exposing his weak spot. His Achilles heel.

Achilles was hella gay, wasn’t he? Yeah. For that other guy. Patroclus. Dew had learned about the story in English class. His teacher had glossed over their relationship as “brotherly comradery” but Dew’s little closeted brain had known better. He found a retelling of the story online and secretly downloaded the PDF to his phone.

The ending had made him sob for hours. It was so beautifully tragic. At the time, he’d hoped that maybe his story would be different. That his mother would accept him before it was too late, before he was buried.

That was a naive fucking fantasy. His mother had clung so hard to her vision of a perfect blonde-haired blue-eyed Catholic daughter that her claws left permanent scars.

Dew’s hand- the one holding the pen- drifts to the back of his head. Speaking of scars…

His vision tunnels and his breath hitches. Here he goes again.

The scent of butternut squash. Dew’s mother had come to the dinner with a stack of Dew’s journals- neatly tabbed and annotated- and read out every entry detailing his process of questioning his faith. Thank fuck he hadn’t written down any of his gender crisis.

He’d been forced to sit there and swallow back tears as his parents told him he was weak, he was stupid, he was letting the devil in.

Dew had mustered up enough courage to snap back. He’d stood up and gone to storm out of the kitchen.

His mother cornered him. He tried to duck and slip past her.

Pain exploded across his face as the back of her hand connected with his cheek. He reeled and lost his balance.

A flash of pain, so bright he could see it. Like a thousand suns.

Stars. Pain. It hurt so much. He tasted pennies. The kitchen ceiling swam above him as his parents yelled at each other. It felt like a dream. His stomach churned with nausea.

He barely managed to muster the strength to turn his head before his dinner came up all over the floor. Something warm and wet was soaking into the back of his sweater. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

His memory was choppy from that moment. Trees speeding by outside a car window, sterile lights of a hospital, doctors shining lights in his face. A machine where he had to lie really still as it beeped and rotated around his head.

“Dew?”

Finally he was carried back into the house and laid on the couch. His parents stood over him and told him in concerned voices that this had happened because he had let the devil into his heart. Dew was too dazed and tired to argue so he nodded his head and apologized.

“Dew? Dude, you okay?”

His rosary was placed in his hands and he was ordered to pray. He did, begging forgiveness from a god that never answered until he was allowed to sl-

“Dewdrop!”

Dew’s eyes snap open. There’s a hand on his shoulder- he flinches away from it.

“Sorry- dude, you okay?” Rain is crouched next to the couch, big blue eyes wide and worried.

Dew is too tired to pretend. He shakes his head and bursts into tears again.

“Woah, woah. Can I sit with you?” Rain asks softly. Dew nods.

Over the next few hours, Dew splits himself open. It hurts, but fuck it feels good to release everything. Rain wouldn’t tell anyone anyway. He starts by telling him about Aether. His stupid gorgeous puppy crush. Then his fear of relationships, then his shitbag ex, then the flashback Rain had interrupted. He probably wasn’t coherent for a lot of it but his friend seemed to understand.

“…That’s fucked up.” Rain tells him after a moment of silence. “I’m… so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Dew sniffles, muffled by the blanket his face is buried in. “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime.” Dew feels Rain shift awkwardly on the couch. “Can I get you something?”

“Made a microwave pizza. Can you reheat it for me?” Dew asks. Rain nods and gets up.

“And… stay with me?” Dew adds sheepishly. “I can’t be alone right now. I’ll smoke myself to death or-“ he stops and swallows. “Something worse.”

“Got it.” Rain shoots him a smile. “Want a soda?”

“ Please. Did you get another case?”

“Yep. Splurged a bit and got a case of cherry coke too.” Rain opens the fridge and grabs two cans.

“Fancy.” Dew manages to smile- a genuine one. It’s shaky but it’s real. He takes the plate of pizza and the can of off-brand Dr. Pepper with a grateful nod.

“I had some extra change.” Rain shrugs, popping open his can. There’s an expression on his face that makes Dew raise his eyebrow.

“Who’d you suck off?”

“Oh, shut up.” Rain elbows him. “Just a quick coding commission. Someone wanted an in-browser game to put on their website.”

“Alriiiight.” Dew still has suspicions, but he leaves it alone. Not his business anyway.

The two of them stay there, laughing and talking until well past midnight. Dew feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest. By the time he heads off to bed, he feels vastly better. He changes into pajamas and crawls under the blankets.

Maybe Aether won’t be as bad as the last guy, he thinks before sleep takes him.

Kudos and comments on ao3 are greatly appreciated!

#tenth drink free #dewther #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #trans ghouls #trans dewdrop #trans aether

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icycoldninja · 7 months ago

Note

Assuming your requests are open again, may I please request headcanons for the Sparda boys + V reacting to their girlfriend showing up on their doorstep in tears and with a bloody face after dealing with her alcoholic, abusive mother who hits her in the face with a liquor bottle?

Yah, they're open and yah, here ya go--might be a little on the short side, hope you don't mind. 💜

Sparda boys + V x Reader with an abusive mother headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-At 2 in the morning, Dante was awakened by knocking at Devil May Cry's doors. He got up, headed right to the entrance, and flung the doors open, expecting to see a disgruntled, potential customer.

-Instead, he saw you, with tears and blood running down your face, mixing into a watery red mess that accumulated at the hem of your shirt. Your forehead had some nasty gashes and a huge lump that could have only resulted from blunt trauma with a hard object.

-Dante is shocked. In most situations he'd know what to do--he'd give the visitor a few bandages, some hydrogen peroxide, then send them on their way--but this was you. He could never do that to you.

-Eventually he collects himself and pulls you into the building, sitting you down in a chair and running off to find the first aid kit. He can't believe his eyes. How'd this even happen to you?

-After patching you up, he gently asks what happened, and when you tearfully tell him how your mother was abusing you and that you tried to fight back but she hit you with a liquor bottle, his heart breaks.

-Dante then scoops you into his arms, carries you over to the couch, and sits down, cradling you lovingly. He holds you as close to him as he possibly can, frantically mumbling about how much he loves you, and how he's sorry he wasn't there to protect you. He'll do better next time.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil was in the middle of polishing the Yamato when you knocked at his door. Curious about who would have the gall to bother him at this hour.

-Then he flung open the door and saw you with red, puffy, bloodshot eyes, tears and blood streaming down your face, making you look like you'd just commited a murder. Maybe you had.

-He tugs you into his home without a word, tenderly but firmly leading you over to the couch, where he instructs you to wait while he finds something to clean you up with.

-He returns moments later and takes care of you, even lending you one of his turtlenecks to change into. Once you're cleaned up and comfortable, he pulls you into a big hug and asks you to tell him what happened and why.

-You quietly explained how you'd had enough with your abusive mother and attempted to put her in her place, but she smacked you with a liquor bottle which caused all the injuries. Vergil grew very upset at hearing this, and if you hadn't been holding onto him with all your strength, he would have gotten up to find and beat up your mother in an instant.

-However, for your sake, he held himself back and resigned himself to snuggling you on the couch. Your comfort was more important than satisfying his rage; he would stay and snuggle you for as long as you needed him to, and then he'd go and get revenge.

□ Nero □

-Nero was asleep when you came a-knocking, the sounds of your fists rapping against the wood startling him so bad he fell out of bed.

-Understandably upset, he approached the door, wondering who the hell would be visiting him at this time, and why.

-The first thing he saw was your cut face and all the blood dripping out of it; the second thing he saw was your bloodshot, crying eyes. Oh, his poor baby, what happened to you?

-He asked you what happened, and when you burst into more tears while recalling how your horrible mother hit you with a liquor bottle, Nero instinctively reached over and yanked you into his chest, not caring if your blood stained his clothes.

-He then took you to the bathroom where he cleaned your face up, kissing the boo-boos and adding a bunch of bandaids where you need them. Afterwards, he wraps you up in a blanket and sits with you on the couch, his arm around your shoulder and his lips pressed against your head.

-Nero doesn't let go of you until morning, which is fine, since you don't stop crying until then.

● V ●

-V was doing his extremely late night reading when he heard you knock on the door. Rather confused, he set his book aside and went to see whoever had come to visit.

-His shock when he saw your bloodied form standing in the doorway was immeasurable. There were multiple, bleeding injuries on your face, and your eyes were puffy, bloodshot, and overflowing with tears. He'd never seen his beloved Wanderer injured like this.

-He limped towards the bathroom to find the first aid kit, with you trailing after him. He patched you up to the best of his abilities, then hugged you and just stayed there, silently letting you know he was there for you

-A few moments passed without either of you speaking, prompting V to ask what happened to you. It took a while, but you finally caved and told him how your abusive mother attacked you with a liquor bottle after you tried to stand up to her.

-V told you he loved you and that he was so sorry that you had to go through that. He wished he could have been there to help you--he would have gladly whacked your mother with his cane.

-To make up for it, he tucked you into bed and wrapped himself around you, intending to cuddle you to sleep.

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mondaymelon · 2 years ago

Text

— 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗼𝗸𝗮𝘆, 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲. ♥

:feat~ scaramouche x gn!reader:

⤷ short lil comfort fic ✩ ⤷ cw: mentions of past trauma

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

art by @/inertraccoon on twitter!

All of it, those terrible memories, each and every one of them are permanently etched in your recollection, and now it seems that those remnants of moments will perpetually torment you in your dreams as well.

You could hear their mocking voices, echoing about you, ringing from the dark. The fear that struck your heart had you frozen in fear. “Ah… please-”`

Your muffled cries reach the ears of the male beside you, who wakes with a start, immediately glancing down at you, whose hand is latched onto his wrist tightly, tears silently falling from your eyes.

“N-No…I’m sorry…”

Those words have him shocked into silence.

Those words that mirrored his, all those years ago, before he had changed, before he had been named who he was now.

“I will never love you, someone so imperfect.”

Those were his words his mother had said, and now they clearly rung through his head, sending his mind abuzz. He could see her sharp gaze, the way she glared at him, the way she had threw him away, like he meant nothing.

Her cold eyes that bore not the slightest shred of affection.

“S-Scaramouche…?” You had awoken, and now you trembled despite the warmth.

The single call of his name that made his shudder.

And now, seeing you so desperately clinging to him like this, he could only think of how you looked just like him in those moments. The way you trembled, your labored inhales and exhales, staring up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, and the way you latched onto his arms so tightly, like you never wanted to let go.

“Love, please, look at me.” His voice is shaking just the slightest, his currently gentle tone one that rarely ever shows. When you don’t comply, breath only quickening, he softly sighs at your pitiful state. Hesitantly, he raises both his arms, before wrapping them around you, his hold on you uncharacteristically warm.

“Please.” His embrace is tight, and he doesn’t want to let go of you, not now, when you’re still so weak.

“Can you hear me right now? You don’t have to speak… but you can nod your head.”

“Trust me.”

“Please listen to me.”

“I’m here.”

“It’s going to be okay, love.” ♥

(a/n) oh oh where did my inspiration go? down the drain. its nowhere.

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arcanewhoosh · 1 month ago

Text

Conversations and Lack of Consequences (Partners in Crime, Chapter 6)

This work is also posted on AO3 here

4.2k words

Proofread? Y/N/Maybe

TW: Minor descriptions of injuries, minor mentions of trauma

You deal with the immediate aftermath of your actions. Jayce and Viktor offer you advice and guidance. Jinx is radio silent.

The next few minutes, half-hour, hour? or so is fuzzy. You remember hearing people rush over to Ekko and Mylo. You briefly hear someone-it occurs to you that you didn't know a number of people at this party-Seriously, who are these people-muttering that one of them had to get taken to the hospital. There was a sharp pain on the right side of your head, but you were too busy trying to collect your scattered thoughts to check what was wrong. At some point, the cuff on your hand is removed- Who took that off?-your hand limply falls to the floor, and you're up, and escorted to a separate room.

It only registers that it's Jinx's room-messy, gadgets and trinkets strewn about, clothes haphazardly thrown next to her hamper-once you walk through the door. You're settled onto a bench at the foot of her bed, before being left alone. You scan the room, trying to get your bearings. A desk is on the left side of the room, with papers and books stacked onto one another, barely leaving any space to actually write, a bookshelf next to the right housing more trinkets than books, next to a bay window that you know she enjoys lounging on. The walls very tastefully decorated, not a speck of spray paint. They wouldn't let me paint anything you remember her say the first time she showed you her place.

Your musings are cut short when the door slams and Jayce walks in, a frown on his face, his brows furrowed. You're mildly surprised to see that there's only a hint of anger in his eyes, worry and confusion taking up most of his expression. The both of you are quiet for a few moments, as Jayce takes a seat on a chair by the bay window and sighs.

After ruminating on what you were going to say, you look up at Jayce, currently looking down at his clasped hands. "...Is it bad?"

He sighs again, and pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Yeah... It's pretty bad."

You breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. "How bad?"

"Mylo had to get taken to the hospital. Ekko's face is swollen to hell."

Now it's your turn to sigh. "Fuck."

Jayce asks you what the hell had happened. You tense up, you had no idea. You've gotten angry about being teased about your birthday before, but never became violent.

"It's... I don't know if I can explain."

"Try." You look around the room, checking to see if you'd find any help from the random objects strewn about.

"My birthday, it's today."

"Yes, and?"

"You know how I don't celebrate it?" Jayce scoffs.

"Gods, please don't tell me you beat the shit out of those two because of that."

"It's hard to-You wouldn't understand, Jayce-"

"Well you're gonna have to help me understand!" He stands up as he says this, and starts pacing around the room. You swallow a lump in your throat.

"You threw the first punch, and two, two people got on the bad side of a beating. One got sent to the hospital, the other can barely open his eyes. Caitlyn's out there debating on whether or not she has to arrest you!" He gestures to the door, still pacing back and forth, quick strides along the carpeted floor, you stop trying to follow him with your eyes, the sensation of having to look left and right so quickly making you slightly dizzy.

"Jinx and Vi?" You manage. Jayce gives you a look.

"I just told you that Cait is thinking about arresting you, and you're asking me about Vi and Jinx?"

"I- I know, I just... This is dredging up a lot of things okay?"

"You're telling me." He takes a seat back on the side of the room. "What the hell was that? You've... You haven't had any trouble the past couple of years, then these two pop up and this happens?"

You shake your head. "It wasn't because of them, I don't think, not entirely. I just... I shouldn't have come to this party."

"You still haven't told me why this all had to go down."

"It's some old shit okay? Stuff with my mom when I was a kid." You refuse to look at Jayce, a dark spot on the carpet suddenly becoming incredibly interesting.

Jayce stands again, huffs, looks over to you, then out the window. "If you get in trouble-"

"I know what happens if I get in trouble Jayce. Hex Tech will get into-"

"It's not about Hex Tech, it's about you. I'm worried about you." You chance a glance up at him as he says this. He's facing you now. "You could get kicked off the company and be blacklisted from any other ones operating in Piltover. Everything you worked so hard for would be taken from you in an instant."

You look back down. Your knuckles are cracked, red and bleeding. "I know. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." You're sincere, because whatever justification entered your brain before the punch was thrown, or reason that made you keep going, is now conveniently eluding you.

"This place-" Jayce starts. "-it's not fair to people who come from where you do. It's such an outdated and shitty system, but it's the reality we have to live with for now. I don't know what's going through that brain of yours, nor can I begin to understand what kind of pressure you're under, but I need you to have your head on your shoulders, and your feet on the ground. You can't have these kinds of-" He gestures with his hand. "-lapses in judgement, and you certainly can't start beating people up because they pissed you off."

Your mentor, boss, older brother figure? walks over to you and gingerly puts a hand on your shoulder. "You can talk to me about all of this when you're ready. Just... Promise not to do anything stupid like this again."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, still looking down at your hands. The adrenaline had long gone and they had started to hurt. Your knuckles were swollen, a good amount of scrapes and broken skin made it unbearable every time you tried to move them. The dull ache on the side of your head calls your attention. Reaching up a hand, you're met with a sticky sensation of slightly dried blood when your finger comes into contact with your temple. The skin above your eyebrow had broken. Funny, you don't remember being hit there.

"You look like crap." You hear Jayce speak up. You absentmindedly rub the blood between your fingers.

"Yeah, well, you should see the other guys."

A beat. Jayce's eyebrows furrow.

"Not the time, I know."

Before Jayce can lecture you on your poor timing, the door slowly opens, and you and Jayce immediately turn your attention to the new arrival. Caitlyn, ever awkward but poised, peeks her head in, and once confirming that it's only you two in the room, enters and shuts the door.

You can't tell what mood she's in based on her expression, but you're pretty sure she'll either lecture you, unleash a string of insults, or say that Vi was right about you all along and that you were a bad person to be around with, or she'd arrest you. Or all of the above.

You sit up straight, breath caught in your throat. She looks between you and Jayce, before settling on you, her blue eyes not giving anything away.

"How are you feeling?" She asks.

Like being swallowed up by the earth You want to say, but you already being on thin ice with multiple people, you opt in for the safe, honest answer. "Everything hurts." You say. She nods, then sighs.

"Well, I at least have some good news. The other two are fine, mostly. It seems like their injuries looked much worse than they looked." You and Jayce simultaneously let out a breath of relief. Cait ignores this and continues. "Besides the swollen face that'll probably hurt for a week or two, Ekko is good. Mylo has a broken nose and will have to get some of his teeth fixed… again. The biggest injury that they have is the one to their egos, which we should all be thankful for." She turns to look at you. You straighten up again.

"Vi spoke with Ekko, and went to the hospital to talk to Mylo. She assured me that they won't press charges, and that we'll all pretend this didn't happen, and move on." She says as she waves a hand around. Your brows furrow and you're about to speak, but Caitlyn holds her hand up.

"Granted that you stay away from both of them for the foreseeable future." You're not quite sure who looks more surprised, you or Jayce. You're half expecting Caitlyn to say sike and book you, but she doesn't. She does, however, raise one of her eyebrows.

"That's it? I get out of this with a slap on the wrist?" Caitlyn sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Believe me, if this was me we would've gone to the station and sorted this out there. But Vi was insistent and practically begged me to not arrest you."

Wait, what?

You stare at Caitlyn, mouth slightly agape. Vi, who had hated your guts for years, who cut off contact with you and completely removed any affiliation between her family and yours. Who, after seeing each other for the first time in years once you had started working for HexTech, had barely acknowledged your existence and did little to hide her disdain for you. This couldn't be the same person. Had she been kidnapped maybe?

"She did?" You and Jayce say in unison. You momentarily forgot that he was in the room.

"I tried to ask her why she was suddenly belong so lenient with you, but she said this," she motions around you, "was a personal matter that I wouldn't entirely understand unless I was there." Jayce gives you a look at this, Caitlyn catches it and furrows her brows. "I take it I won't be able to get it out of you either?"

"Already tried." Jayce says. She sighs.

"Alright then, we'll let it go, for now. I'll keep tabs on Mylo and Ekko, just for the love of God, don't try to contact them." You both look over to Caitlyn, already heading for the door. "No arrests?" You ask again, she shakes her head.

"No, I guess not."

"Good. Thank you Cait." Jayce says, emphasizing the appreciative tone as he thanks Caitlyn. You mutter a Thank you Caitlyn as well. The latter makes it halfway out the door before turning back towards you. "You lie low, take some time off until this blows over. At least until your hands heal. Alright?"

She shares a look with Jayce. To someone who wasn't familiar with the two, the look would've been dismissed as a simple expression of concern. To someone that was familiar with them, which you were, you could almost hear the silent conversation they were having.

No work for him in the meantime.

Got it.

You want to express your protest on the matter, but you bite your tongue and remain silent, already feeling like you've consumed all of your sympathy points with both of them. A thought crosses your mind.

"Wait, where's Jinx?" You ask. Cait simply says that she had gone with Vi to the hospital to try and smooth things out with Ekko and Mylo, as she ducks out.

Caitlyn shuts the door behind her, and a few beats of silence pass. Jayce walks over to you and offers a hand. "They cleared out the guests before I went in here to check on you. I'll drive you home. And for God's sake, do what Caitlyn said and get some rest, please."

You put your wrist on top of Jayce's waiting hand, the pain in your hands making it too difficult to move them. You're hit with a wave of dizziness as you stand up, your head suddenly throbbing again. Jayce seems to notice your discomfort and puts your arm over his shoulder-he has to lean down a bit because he's irrationally tall-and helps you towards the door. You make a mental note to thank Caitlyn and Vi-the concept of thanking the latter completely foreign and strange in your mind- for having everyone head out before you're half carried by Jayce out of the apartment.

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

Two weeks had gone by before Jayce and Viktor deemed you rested enough to return to work. You're not sure what made them think you were rested, given you were going absolutely insane being stuck in your apartment with nothing to do. All of this exasperated by the fact that Jinx hadn't tried to contact you over the stretch of your Mandatory Medical Leave. You had tried texting, calling, emailing; hell, you almost considered sending a letter. You wanted to go see her, but Jayce and Viktor had kept close tabs on you and were serious about you laying low. Fortunately, it hadn't been four days since you heard of Jinx.

Jayce had kept in touch with Caitlyn, who is his direct link to Vi, and thus their direct link to Jinx. It wasn't much, but beggars couldn't be choosers. And so you asked Jayce nearly every day for any updates. To his credit, he tried to get any news he could from Caitlyn, but it wasn't a lot to go off of either.

Jinx had been uncharacteristically quiet the past two or so weeks, opting to-miraculously-go to work early and head home late. Anytime Vi asked what was keeping her busy, she'd mutter something about super-secret SilCorp projects that needed her undivided attention. Well, it couldn't have been that important, seeing as she had time to visit Mylo and Ekko. She actually visited Ekko quite a few times. This didn't bother you, of course, definitely not. The few times this week you'd accidentally punch a hole through the notebook you were writing in were definitely unrelated and definitely not because you remembered this particular fact.

You sigh heavily. The fifth sigh of the day, according to Viktor, who thought it would be funny to keep a tally on one of the whiteboards around the office.

"You know, you should just go see her." He says, adding another line to the tally. You shake your head.

"No, if she ignores you, it means she doesn't wanna see you, and if she doesn't wanna see you, it means she lets you know when you can come see her."

"And that is?"

"Whenever she tells you." You check your phone again for any replies. Nothing.

"It's a bit unfair of her, isn't it?" He says.

"It's a bit unfair of me to ruin a party she set up for me." You reply. Despite not having much to do while you were stuck at home, you did reach out to the party guests, offering up apologies and gift baskets. You'd never seen so many tins of fancy sardines in your life.

"A party that you didn't want, and she knew, if I remember correctly. Knew we'll enough that you'd have a bad reaction, so much so, that you became uncharacteristically violent."

You open your mouth to speak- "Which by the way, you haven't even discussed with neither me, nor Jayce. So even if she had good reason to ignore your reservations, there's no way I couldn't throw some fault to her." He adds quickly.

You sigh again,-Viktor adds another to the tally- you had known Jayce and Viktor for years. They were the ones that stood up for you when people doubted your potential. They were the ones that served as your family after Vi and the others had cut you off from theirs. They had shown you nothing but love, support, and kindness over the years. It shouldn't be this hard to tell them about your past. That many years later, it should be funny to retell how the last time you celebrated your birthday, your mother had died, and that you always thought that something bad would happen if you ever celebrated it. How it's actually silly how you associate such an extreme superstition to such a singular event. How every time you try to talk about it, you're taken right back to the harrowing scene laid out for your too-young self. How you had avoided going back to your house until months after, fearing that once you open the door, you'd see her dull-

"It's quite alright if you're not ready to talk about it." Viktor says suddenly, his tone lightly clipped, laced with a tinge of worry. You hear him recap the marker, "But if she's adamant on not seeing you to even discuss what happened, then you shouldn't be making a fool of yourself trying to contact her."

You look up to see Viktor looking at you pointedly with his arms crossed, clearly not impressed by your maybe pathetic display of desperation. You check your phone again.

"Maybe… I'll send one more message, and if she doesn't reply, I'm not gonna give her space." Viktor raises an eyebrow at you, clearly unimpressed. You type out the message anyway.

Look, if you don't wanna talk, that's fine. I'll leave you alone. You hit the send button.

"There. If she doesn't reply, then I'm putting my phone on silent, with the exemption of messages from you guys." You say as you lift your phone screen so Viktor can see. The latter seems somewhat bemused with this, and turns to go fidget with one of the workstations.

"As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his foolishness." He says, shaking his head.

"Thanks for the support Viktor." You grumble. He makes a comment about you reaching a new personal best for sighing.

You toss your phone onto an empty chair and try to shift your focus back on your work, which is honestly what you should have been doing, given that it is still working hours. But you can't help but occasionally steal a glance at your phone's screen, hoping it would light up once you do.

A few minutes go by, then an hour, then three. You let out a frustrated groan and ruffle your already messy hair as you realize you haven't made much progress work-wise. This was getting out of hand.

So what if Jinx doesn't respond? She's well within her rights to do whatever she wants. She can work on her super-secret work projects, visit her childhood friends, and totally ignore you. But you shouldn't be letting her live rent free in your head and take over valuable time that you should be spending on your own tasks. You lasted years not hearing from her, what's maybe a couple more days?

You almost let out a sigh, but remember that Viktor is still probably tallying and you couldn't let what little pride you have left to be shattered. So you stand up from your chair a bit too abruptly, and mutter a quick goodbye to Viktor as you grab your phone and bag and head out the door. Your previous train of thought only proving to sour your mood even further.

The drive back to your apartment is quiet. Too consumed with your thoughts to even turn the radio on. You're so out of it that you don't realize that you're already up the elevator and heading over to your front door. The hallways is dusted with orange as the sun is setting outside. You turn a corner, and you swear up and down that a pang of disappointment doesn't hit you as you're met with an affrontingly empty front door. No, you weren't hoping that Jinx would do her once usual routine of randomly waiting for you outside of your apartment. I just felt like visiting she would say, and you would shake your head as you unlock your door and let her in.

---

"Mom! Look what we found in the creek!" You rush through the front door, as fast as your legs could carry you, excited to show your mother the gigantic toad you and the others had caught. It had taken all five of you-because Vi said she was too cool to be catching toads, whatever that meant, and had opted to sit and watch- to surround the surprisingly fast critter. You and Mylo had gotten completely soaked after diving head first into the water, and ended up crashing into each other.

You race to the kitchen where your mother was washing a few dishes, a smile already on her face. It momentarily disappears, her eyes going wide after seeing you holding a toad, before slowly returning. "Uhm, that's nice dear… look at the size of him!" She says as she wipes her hands on her apron, sidestepping away from you and the toad. You extend your arms and hold it out to her, and she very subtly hides her jump before standing her ground.

"Isn't he cute?" You say, still holding it out to her, waiting for her to take the toad from you. She doesn't, a beat of sweat dropping from the side of her face.

"That's nice, love. But won't Mr. Toad feel homesick? What if his family is waiting for him at the creek?" Your smile drops. You hadn't even considered if Malcolm-Mr. Toad- had a family he had to take care of back at the creek. You turn Malcolm's little face towards, his eyes unblinking.

"I'm sorry Malcom. I didn't know you had a family." Your mother furrows her brows in confusion, before realizing that you had named toad. "I should take him back home, shouldn't I?" You ask, looking over to her. Your disappointment allowing your mother's sigh of relief to escape your notice.

"Yes dear, I think you should. Mister-Malcolm probably misses his family. Plus, he'll be safe once he's home." You look back at Malcolm, and after a nod of determination, you start heading back out the door. You hear your mother shout out for you to hurry back home, before the door loudly slams behind you.

---

You sit up from your bed abruptly, woken up by a pounding on your door. You're stunned for a few seconds before reaching under your bed for the bat you kept for protection. The pounding at the door continues as you try to stand up as quietly as possible, tapping your phone on the nightstand to check the time.

02:41

You don't believe in ghosts, nope. But the thought of random banging on your door at this hour still sends a shiver up your spine. You take a breath-Ghosts aren't real, this is an actual person banging on my door- on second thought, a real-life person banging on your door is actually scarier than a ghost. People can touch you, ghosts can't. Your grip on the bat tightens. You could call the police, or the building security. Oh who the hell am I kidding, security's probably sleeping downstairs.

Bang bang bang.

Steeling your courage after listing down your options, you slowly, quietly, approach the front door. You're about 10 paces away when the traitorous floorboards of your room creak under your foot. You stop. The pounding stops.

A sigh, from outside. "I already heard your creaky ass floor." Comes through, muffled, exasperated.

You freeze. Suddenly, the thought that someone would be banging at your door at two in the morning doesn't seem so strange. Because of course there's someone in your life crazy enough to show up at your front door at two in the morning. Should you be surprised? Angry? Terrified? Pissed? Elated? Happy? Fuck. You shake your head, letting out a huff as you stand there, bat raised, looking a tad bit ridiculous.

"Bubs? Are you in there?" You hear the voice say. It's still muffled, but it's obvious to you that the previously annoyed tone is gone. Uncertainty, timidness, shame, maybe, replaces the usual haughty, and confident tone of Jinx. A few seconds pass. Your grip tightens on the bat, the previous fear of whoever was banging on your door, replaced by the terror of having to face who actually is at your door.

You take another few paces before realizing that you probably shouldn't be holding onto a bat before you greet Jinx at the door. You briefly consider still bringing it since you've become attached and assigned it as your emotional support item, but then her seeing you holding a weapon wouldn't be so welcoming. Besides, she's obviously here to talk-even though your brain only associates these kinds of late night visits for other motives-and clear things up. Nothing else, no sir.

Come to think of it, were you even ready to talk to her? Did you reach out to her several times, like an idiot? Yes. Did you spend the better half of the past couple of weeks hoping she's show up to talk? Yup. Spent way too long on that--You shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of your train of thought, you're getting distracted. You decide that the best way to get through this is to just rip off the band aid. So you steel your resolve, grab onto your door knob, and pull the door open. Ready-were you really?-- to face the impending conversation and the consequences of actions.

#arcane jinx #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane x reader #jinx x reader #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #arcane caitlyn #modern au

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