#and i guess i’m far enough removed from it now that i should just be fucking fixed!

[tootiecakes234]

I just know you would receive “gifts” from Katsuki all the time. They’d be little things to make your life easier that you didn’t even know you needed.

You like to read at night to unwind, but sometimes it’ll be a really good book so you want to stay up reading it. The thing is you don’t wanna bother Katsuki cuz you know he has a strict bedtime. This means often times you’ll stay a little longer in the living room reading as to not bother him.

One night you’re getting ready for bed when you see a box next to your bed.

“Hey Kat, is this yours?”, you say loud enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.

He peaks his head out the door and says, “No, I ordered it for you.” And then goes back to what he was doing.

You sit on the edge of the bed and open it up. It’s a reading light with a dampener so you can adjust the brightness.

He comes dragging his little slippered feet towards his side of the bed.

“Now you can keep your ass in bed. Tired of waking up and you being asleep on the couch. I’m an old man, I can’t keep carrying you to bed.”

You look at him with a bright smile on your face.

“You know you can just say, you like me being in the bed with you while you’re sleeping. You know, because I’m your big bad protector and I make you feel safe.”

“There is no talking to you sometimes you know that?”

It’s winter time and you always have your gloves on because you HATE your fingers being cold. The only problem is of course you have to remove said gloves to use your phone when you’re out and that SUCKS.

You’re out with him one day and you’ve been texting back and forth with Mina because her and her girlfriend are in an argument and she of course comes to you about it.

You are always there for your friend so you’ve been removing and putting on your gloves over and over again until Katsuki can’t stand it anymore.

You’re outside on a bench waiting for him while he runs into some shop when he comes back out he snatches your phone out of your hand.

“What the hell? I’m usin-“ you start shouting at him.

“ give me those shitty gloves and put these on. I’m sick of watching you struggle.”

When you look down you see a pair of gloves in your favorite color.

“How are these any different from the ones I have now, Mr. Know-it-all”

He smirks at you, “These gloves are thicker than those thin ones you use AND they work on smart phones.. so yea. I do know it all.”

“Oh…. Well thanks I guess” you murmur lowly.

“Now you can talk Racoon eyes through her mental breakdowns without getting frost bite in your fingers.”he says then hands you back your phone. “She deserve better than that idiot anyways. Don’t why she keeps putting up with it.”

Katsuki is leaving for a mission today and you’ve been so gloomy. He gonna be gone at least 3 days, maybe even the whole week.

You’re been wrapped around him like ivy since you woke up this morning.

“Listen woman, I have to go. You do this every time.”he says with his arms wrapped around you waist pulling you even more flush against him.

“You should clone yourself or something. Who am I gonna cuddle with now?? And who is gonna cook for me?? I’ll die of starvation before you get back. Is that what you want. To come home to a dead girlfriend???”

“You are so damn dramatic. Cuddle with the damn plethor of plushies you have in my goddamn bed. And as far as food… you won’t starve. You’ll just eat out everyday and I’ll come back to you complaining you’ve gained weight when you look the exact same.”

“I do not.”, you start to object.

“Yes you do. Which is why I made a few meals and froze them.” He says all smug, cuz he knows that would surprise you.

“You what??” You ask looking up at him with wide eyes.

“There’s a pot pie and dumplings. I even stored a lasagna in there.” Then his phone buzzes letting him know his ride is downstairs.

“Ok I gotta go. I love you.” And he bends down to give you a deep kiss. “Be safe. Call Eiji if you need anything and try not to burn the house down before I get back.”

“I love you too. Come back to me in one piece please.”

He smiles at you, “always”

He kisses you one more time and then heads to the car.

You go directly to the fridge to see the frozen meals he left you. And not only are the packages all neatly but he’s left the heating instructions on top for you.

To say there were tears shed would be an understatement.

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list in the comments💕

[slut4thebroken]

Dad/stepdad finding your vibrator hcs

Tommy Shelby, Cillian Murphy, Raymond Leon, Jackson Rippner, Lenny Miller

(All accurate to the universe’s time period)

Tommy Shelby - To say he was shocked would be an understatement. At first he was concerned— were you suffering from hysteria and he didn’t even know? But then he remembered that vibrators have very recently started being used for more… personal activities. He confronted you about it anyway though. You blushed and stuttered out “I- I can explain..” and he found it amusing at first, but he kept his expression stern. It was when you broke down crying that he suddenly softened. “I’m sorry, daddy. Please don’t be mad..” You cried out, making him pull you into a hug and shush you, trying to calm you down. “I’m not mad, love.” He said gently. “Just… tell me what it’s for.. I promise I won’t be mad.” You looked up at him with wide, teary eyes to see if he was being truthful. When you found no sign of a lie, you whispered that you use it for self pleasure, which he already knew. He just wanted to hear you say it. He sighed and shook his head. “You think you’re old enough to be playing with adult toys like this?” He asked, and you muttered out an excuse of how you just turned 18. “Maybe so, but I still don’t think it’s appropriate at your age.” That triggered something inside of you and you whined about how you’re an adult and you can do what you want, acting far too bratty for his liking. “Is that so? An adult, are you?” He had a condescending smirk on his lips and he pretended to think it over, then scoffed a laugh. “Fine then. If you’re an adult I guess I should start punishing you like one.” His tone was noticeably darker now. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Cillian Murphy - He knew he should’ve ignored it, respected your privacy… But he just kept thinking about you using it. The pretty sounds you probably made, the way your cheeks probably became flushed… But then he started thinking about you using it with someone.. Did you have a secret boyfriend? Or were you exploring your sexuality all on your own… Deciding to do the responsible thing, he started planning out when and how to talk to you about all of these new things you may be feeling as a developing young woman. One day he sat down with you, gently told you what he knew and reassured you when you immediately became embarrassed. He told you that it was natural and nothing to be ashamed of… “A young girl like yourself needs someone to guide her, teach her what’s right and how to be safe.” He said softly, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. “As your father, I’m afraid that role falls on me.” He tried not to seem too excited by the idea. Standing up, he walked over to where the toy was hidden and brought it back over to the bed, handing it to you. “I need to make sure you’re using it the right way. I’d hate for my little girl to get hurt.” He frowned, watching as your eyes widened. He didn’t let you protest as he helped removed your clothes and laid you down on the bed. “Now show me exactly how you’re using it, sweetheart.”

Raymond Leon - At first, he almost mistook it for something else, but when he did a double take, he realized what it actually was. A rush of emotions hit him, the main ones being anger, disappointment, and arousal. Were you turning into a whore? Did he do something wrong when raising you? When you came home one day, he was waiting on your bed, the vibrator next to him. You were immediately hit with a wave of embarrassment and humiliation- good. You started trying to defend yourself, saying it’s not what it looks like. “Don’t try to play innocent.” He scoffed. “Get over my fucking lap.” His voice was so harsh, it made you tear up as you begged him not to. So he roughly grabbed you and pulled you over his thighs, then flipped your skirt up. He spanked you until his hand was burning and there were little welts on your ass. You were sobbing loudly, the pain becoming too much, and with the way you kept squirming and rubbing against his cock, he eventually got hard. He forced the vibrator between your legs, making you apologize for your whorish behavior as you came over and over again until he was satisfied. “Get on your knees.” He demanded and you slid off his lap to the floor, still sobbing and almost hyperventilating from the overwhelming pleasure. “There are consequences for acting like a whore.” He spat, quickly opening his pants to free his cock, making your breath catch in your throat. “So, be a good girl for once and finish what you started.”

Jackson Rippner - He had been trying so hard to be a good father figure- god knows you desperately needed it. But as soon as he found a vibrator hidden away (very poorly) in one of your drawers, he just lost all control. He managed to wait a few days until it was only the two of you in the house, then confronted you. This wasn’t his proudest moment… but he didn’t regret it. “What would your mom think, huh?” He asked, subtly threatening you. “I would hate to have to tell her… but maybe we can work something out.” He said coyly, enjoying the way you blushed and squirmed and pouted. He made you beg for it, for his cock and for him to not tell your mom. Once he had you underneath him with his cock fully sheathed in your little cunt, he practically plowed into you until you cried. “This is your own fault.” He hissed. “The only reason this is happening is because you teased me by leaving it somewhere for me to find.” You sobbed harder and shook your head, unable to do anything else to protest. “You’ve been a fucking tease since day one with those tiny little shirts and the skirts that barely cover your ass… I’m fucking sick of it.” He growled, getting more worked up. “From now on, you’re gonna let me use this cunt whenever I want, or I’ll tell your mom about your little secret, and how you seduced me and begged me to fuck you.”

Lenny Miller - You should’ve known better than to think you could hide things from him. Just like you should’ve known better than to think you could lie to him. But when he confronted you, you denied it. Which he figured you might do… That’s why he set up a camera in your room, hidden in a vent but angled perfectly at your bed. The quality was not the best, but it was good enough to still obviously show what you were doing. He can’t even count the amount of times he came to that footage of you. When you tried lying, he sighed and reached for the remote, already having the tape ready in the tv. The second it turned on, you lips parted in shock and your face paled, then a very dark blush took over your cheeks. “There are a few different ways this can go. Option one: the camera stays up and you can keep the vibrator. Option two: I punish you, then confiscate it, but I’ll take down the camera.” He paused, lowering his voice into something darker and thick with arousal. “Or option three: you show me just how sorry you are for owning something like this. I’m still going to punish you, but if you do a good enough job begging, I might just let you keep it.” He said coyly. He waited impatiently for you to choose and when you couldn’t get any words out, still glancing at the tv, he chose for you. He spanked you until you cried and made you suck his cock to prove you were sorry, then forced you to ride him while you begged for his forgiveness.

[raainberry]

compliments to the chef

Momo x gn!reader

synopsis - momo falls for her new chef’s flavor🤭 (she’s the sole heiress of the Hirai culinary empire and hiring you spices things up a lot more than she intended.)

wordcount - 14K (please don’t say damn when you see the price)

T/W - kinda chaebol!momo - chef!reader - mentions of food, knifes etc… - nothing violent tho - slowburn? but make it angsty? - light cussing - you lowkey hate each other but not really - enemies to lovers? - guest starring bc that’s fun - that’s all i can think of, tell me if i missed anything

Momo sent a polite smile to the man sitting across from her. The fourteenth in the past half hour.

She’s been keeping count, along with the minutes, the grains of rice left on her plate, and the amount of times he’s mentioned one of his accomplishments.

Thirty-three, seventy-eight, and six; in that order. Only two questions about her so far, one if you remove the one about her name.

She almost left right then and there, but the respect she had for her mother weighed her down on that chair. If she wasn’t going to take over the family empire, the least she could do was find a worthy successor.

A soft sigh escaped her as she pushed her food around. Being an only child was way more fun when all it meant was that she didn’t have to share it with anyone. Or get it stolen, according to the venting of her friends when younger.

She finished the few bites left, trying to drown out the sound of his voice by focusing on the flavours. She closes her eyes, appreciating their delicate yet bold dancing on the tip of her tongue.

Maybe it was the boredom clinging onto whatever could keep her mind entertained, but the taste reminded her of herself. A small smile spread across her lips, the first real one of the day.

The next one came when the man asked for the bill. Her lungs could finally grasp the air around her, her nose picking up on the different notes and aromas of the dishes around her.

She sent her compliments to the chef, adding to them a generous tip she had no idea who’s pockets it’d really land in. It’s the thought that counts.

Her senses were in heaven walking out, engraving her mind with a memory that will stick longer than the guy who’d just made her split the bill, unevenly that is.

“Let me take you home.” He said once out front. His hand held the door open to the leather seats of a luxurious car she was too familiar with.

“Oh, no it’s fine thank you.” She declined quickly. “I actually have a meeting scheduled right after this.”

“I can drop you off.”

Momo almost laughed. She found his use of the personal pronoun very funny. She almost forgot he would just be sitting near her some more while the chauffeur did the sexiest part. If the latter were to her taste, she’d have driven off with her.

“I’d rather not.” She declined. “Business confidentiality and whatnot.”

The lie was forced through an awkward smile that he found endearing enough not to question. Relief washed over her when he finally let go of her, climbing into the car, but not without asking her to keep in touch.

Another sigh, a heavy one, loaded with all those she’d held back until now as she watched the car drive away. The pressure was off, but only for a second as her thoughts soon spiraled.

No way she had to do this again… She reached in her purse, looking for the one thing that could get her out of here.

All this junk, where is it—

“You’re awful at lying.”

Her phone almost dropped to its death from the startle you gave her.

Momo had a few questions at the sight of you. Your presence and your eavesdropping were the first, but the white apron half folded around your waist and the cigarette in your hand answered most of them.

“What,” was all she managed to say though, and a smile pulled on your lips.

“I mean, I’m not fond of lies, but when you’re famous for turning your back on business, you should probably come up with a better excuse.”

“Who even are you?”

“Right, I guess that’s fair. I’m Y/n. You’re Momo, right? Hirai?”

“Y-Yeah.” Her eyes squinted, desperately trying to see what you were leading to.

Your name sounded as unfamiliar as you looked, but you seemed well informed. She didn’t like that.

“Nice to meet you,” You greeted simply, eyeing the contrast between her features and the neat clothes on her back, “So how bad was it? You look… Worn out.”

Her chuckle was distasteful, and she tried to suppress its bitterness at the reminder of her lost time. “Awful. The food caught my eye more than he could ever hope.”

You smiled, “He wasn’t bad looking.”

“But he was a bore.” She argued. “Borderline narcissistic too.”

“Deal breaker then?” You guessed, turning her laughter a little sweeter.

“Pretty much.” Her gaze found the ground in a nod before focusing back on you. “I do like it better when it’s a two way conversation.”

“Does that make me cute?”

She scoffed at the brazen question. “You wish.”

“I don’t.” You dropped your cigarette on the ground, stepping on it in a way she found more hot than revolting to her surprise. That cheeky smile of yours was most likely to blame. “Thank you for the compliments by the way. I’m glad you liked it.”

Your bow was quick, desultory out of rehearsed respectfulness. As much as you appreciated her compliments, you had better things to do in the kitchen that could get you some more.

You caught a glimpse of her jaw dropping on your way back in, and it was enough of a sight to revel in for a few days.

—

It took Momo a couple weeks to pick her jaw back up and swallow her pride. It seemed as though the latter was the only thing she inherited from her family, and she managed to set herself apart yet again.

Her parents would have never set foot in your restaurant again. Not that you had lacked respect or anything, but the fact that you managed to set her off balance… Something about it she didn’t particularly like.

Why was she back then?

You asked yourself that same question when you stormed out of the kitchen at her request. If it weren’t for your manager and his speech about image and reputation, you never would have allowed her to interrupt you and abandon your brigade mid-shift.

Hands on your hips, dragging your feet, you walked into the office she awaited you in and felt your voice die down on your tongue at the sight.

Beauty or surprise, either way it came down to her presence.

The way her hair fell down her back, delicate and blending in with the fabric of her perfectly tailored shirt. The sleek black attire formed a shadow, painting a hole cut against her silhouette and into the spring she admired in the sakura tree out the bay window.

“Hi.” She smiled, her voice a fitting melody to the sights now behind her. Enchanting, sure, but odd.

She wasn’t exactly known to be a warm one to strangers. More power to her, you could understand that. But why didn’t it apply to you?

If it weren’t for the stories associated with that voice suddenly popping into your mind, she’d have lured you in. Nothing too bad about them; only testaments of her success. Rumors about the danger surrounding her, setting her apart from her family. You didn’t care for the big industry names, but theirs always had you curious.

“You asked for me?” Your voice rang in the quiet space.

Momo didn’t seem to notice your apprehension, her smile ever so welcoming, “I did.”

It felt as though she owned the place for a second.

“Do you have some more compliments?” You wondered, eyes following her figure as she went to take a seat in the armchair across your manager’s desk.

“I do actually.” She turned the seat to face you as she mused, “That black cod was to die for.”

You nodded, thankful. “Glad you liked it.”

As much as you didn’t like the way her family capitalized on the food you took such care to value, you couldn’t deny their expertise. Even if not a lot to you, Momo’s compliment did mean something.

“But that’s not all.” Her voice pulled your eyes back on her.

You found her posture quite imposing, matching her tone, but her infamous shyness was something she never got around to master. Her gaze held yours but it lacked control.

It was hard to ignore how endearing the attempt looked to you. It just made you want to give her whatever she wanted. Reward her efforts.

“What is it?” You wondered, curious.

What could she possibly want from you? This restaurant wasn’t yours. The only thing you had control over was the kitchen.

“I want you to cook for me.” She said, and you didn’t leave room for a breath before responding, “Excuse me?”

“I meant I’d like to hire you.” She clarified, a smirk dancing on her lips at your transparent thoughts. You tried to make sense of her proposal, but she didn’t waste any time in providing details. “I’m sure you’re familiar—the annual Hirai banquet my mother holds for shareholders. I never cared for the specifics, but I want to do good by her. I haven’t been the best daughter lately so I thought I’d make it up to her by holding it this year.”

It all clicked at the mention of her mother. Of course she wouldn’t be back with her own motives.

The Hirai Culinary Group was an empire. A home to the most prestigious restaurants of the country. All housing different specialties, techniques and themes… Quite a whole lot to manage yet the quality remained flawless. Fifty years of irreproachable cuisine, you could only respect it. If only they didn’t care about business so much…

Those banquets were popular, talk of the town within the industry as it usually set the next trends and whatnot. Make no mistakes, you were tuned in as well. They did bring in some interesting elements, but you hated the way they set it all up. A disguised year-end performance meeting. White collars expecting numbers and being served them on gold plates, horizons and growth perspectives hidden in desserts.

“So she’s actually the one that asked for me.” You smirked, unexpecting of the way she’d wipe it off just a second later.

“No.” She said simply, a serene smile gracing her lips. “Why would she know about you?”

You scoffed. Good point. You could recognize that despite the blow to your ego.

“Fair enough.” You nodded. “But why should I help you?”

“Help me?” She repeated, a hint of offense creeping into her whole being. “I’m offering you to work with me.”

Perhaps she wasn’t that much of an ugly duckling among the Hirai’s.

“My question still stands. Why should I?”

A silence followed your words, hanging low over your heads and expecting the next ones to come out of her. Hopefully they’d be good enough.

Momo’s gaze suddenly drifted from yours, finding interest in her surroundings. A few details she’d noticed earlier, various frames highlighting the establishment’s foundations. She could count three of them : its history, the owner and visibly the most important—you.

“Are you happy here?” She finally spoke, tearing her eyes away from your latest reward.

“I am.”

“I’m sure you are,” she remarked, tone striking a nerve. “Highest rank, valued both within and outside—you’re basically ruling the place…”

“What’s your point?” You asked, growing impatient.

“You’ve hit the ceiling, Y/n. It’s time for a new challenge, don’t you think?”

Silence enveloped you again as you found yourself contemplating her proposition.

Momo took the sight as a sign of her job being done here, and you watched as she left her business card on the desk before gracefully excusing herself; leaving you to deal with your internal struggle.

—

In the days that followed, her offer continued to linger in your thoughts, and with each passing day, the idea of a new challenge began to take root in your mind.

It spread enough to takeover a good portion of it, sending it all elsewhere. Far enough for your closest friend here and sous-chef to notice.

“What’s up with you, you’ve been all over the place lately.” Jeongyeon asked after you nearly knocked an nth plate to the floor.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” You met her gaze and it was enough to backtrack on your words “Okay, fine there is something, but… I don’t know it’s pointless.”

The empty pot you were carrying resonated as you put it back into its designated place, partially covering Jeongyeon’s words. “Does it have to do with that Hirai girl?”

“How do you know?”

“It’s the only thing out of the ordinary enough to throw you off your game.” She chuckled, drying her hands on her apron.

Weird way to tell you to live a little more, but okay.

“So what did she say to you?” She sighed, leaning her back against the sink. “What even happened in the office, you never told us.”

“Well…” You trailed off, gettng that business card out of your back pocket. You handed it to her, and it took her a second to notice what it was.

“What are you waiting for?” She scoffed, causing your eyebrows to furrow together.

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever she proposed just accept it, Y/n”

You spotted a hint of annoyance in her voice, but you had trouble seeing if it was about you or Momo. She sure was scrubbing that counter pretty hard.

“Why?” You asked, watching as she practically polished that stainless steel by hand. Something bothered you, and it wasn’t her cleaning technique. “Are you not even gonna fight for me?”

Jeongyeon paused to look at you, catching the slight pout on your lips. Her own twisted along her features in disgust, teasing you, and you let out your first laugh of the day.

“I should be the one asking you that.” She pointed out. “The fact that you haven’t thrown that card as soon as she left tells me enough.”

“I was just thinking about it…” You admitted, only proving her point.

Jeongyeon chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re past the point of even considering it, I mean… You’ve been walking around with that business card glued to your ass for the past week, yet you haven’t told me a thing about it.”

“You think you know me so well.” You grimaced. It was playful, but part of you wanted to provoke her. You didn’t blame her for that small jab at you, but it did hurt to think she didn’t put turning your back on this place past you.

She did know you so well, though. That’s why she continued to argue her point.

“What is there to think about, y/n? The heiress of the most acclaimed and prestigious restaurant chain of the country is asking for you. No sane person would say no, never mind a chef!”

The sigh that pushed past your lips came as far back as your lungs.

“Would you say yes?” You hesitated after a while, but her answer was much faster. “With no remorse.”

“I mean, have you seen her?” She added and you laughed.

“Fine. I guess I’ll call her…” You picked up the card from the counter and stared at her name.

Well… It’s not like she had asked you to quit your job…

—

“Oh, that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.”

“What?!”

Momo pulled the phone away from her ear at the sheer volume of your voice through the speaker. How unprofessional. Her eyes rolled soon after, once she registered what your reaction held and meant for her plans.

“Y/n, this isn’t some side hustle for your experience.” she sighed, “I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. If this all goes well, you could become our youngest chef in history.”

A point was made. As much as you were cautious of her voice, it seemed you couldn’t do much about the way it managed to get to you. The words she used were ambitious, they spoke to you.

But she failed to measure just how ambitious you were.

“Why can’t I do both?” You finally asked, prompting a string of arguments being thrown to one another. A futile game of ping-pong you were determined to win, only irritating the woman at the other end of the line.

All this whining, it was like dealing with a child, and truthfully you felt like one. Asking for the best of both worlds seemed completely reasonable to you, so why wouldn’t she give it to you.

“Listen, you can’t give your all to something if your attention is split in two.” She said, losing the last bit of patience she managed to keep today. “You can’t expect to grow by splitting yourself in half, and if you think otherwise, then consider my proposal void.”

A small silence fell over the line. She made sense. She was right. So why couldn’t you bring yourself to accept it?

“If you actually stepped foot in a kitchen once in your life you’d know two isn’t even the minimum.” You scoffed.

Whatever you wanted to mean by that… even you didn’t know, but apparently it was worth thinking over as you heard Momo sigh.

The woman closed her eyes to think.

Why couldn’t you just say yes like everyone else she approached. Maybe she should have made you say it back in the office, use that pathetic confidence of yours against you.

Oh how easy you were to read and see through. Pushing buttons was so much easier when people stood in front of her.

That’s why she hated phone calls. How could she know what to say—oh.

The light bulb went off over her head.

Right… That pathetic confidence of yours.

“I’ll step in if you do.”

—

It shouldn’t have been so easy.

All it took was a half-genuine smile, and a simple promise to make things different this year with a focus on the culinary side of things. Sure, she had to admit to scouting the area in search of the most skilled and promising, which eventually lead her to your restaurant, and then… you. But it was all ego strokes. Child’s play.

Part of her was disappointed. She’d hoped for a little more resistance, a challenge promised by your initial tone and attitude towards her.

“Damn it!”

She should be more careful about what she wishes for… Momo sighed, expecting your face to peek in by the doorframe of the manager’s office, and it did just seconds later.

“Momo, it’s not working.”

“What isn’t?” She said, confused. Machinery’s top-notch, brigade is her best, there was no way anything would stop working out of nowhere.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, just come and see.”

Momo stared at you, noticing a smile fighting to make its way onto your lips. She was apprehensive but followed you anyway.

You’d been working on a technical plate : a type of hybrid dish-dessert. An ambitious idea you’d prompted to Momo during one of the early meetings to work the menu out.

Only she had to make it an order. A boring one and near impossible to pull off. She wouldn’t listen, so you decided to show her.

As you led her to the kitchen, you couldn't help but start venting away about everything that went down since the last time she'd stepped foot in there, which was a day or two ago.

"So, first, the soufflé collapsed twice because someone—I won't name names, but it rhymes with 'intern’—forgot to preheat the oven."

Momo sighed internally. Why were you so fixated on every little mistake? Who cares about interns and their mistakes, that’s what they’re here for. She could excuse a non-preheated oven, but forgetting her birthday? Yeah, that Boo Seungkwan is definitely off the list. He had a good run, only regret was he was good with her dogs. And nice maybe.

"Then, the new mixer decided it wanted to be a blender, and let's not even talk about the chocolate ganache incident."

She nodded absently, her mind drifting to the text she received earlier from another potential suitor. The daughter of her family ‘s right hand man, Jihyo if she remembered correctly? The Park’s had a rocky history though, she took note to raise her guard on that one before your voice pulled her back.

"And of course, the sugar sculpture? Total disaster."

Momo glanced at you, wondering if you realized how whiny you sounded. She had bigger fish to fry than a failed sugar sculpture, like figuring out if she even wanted to leave this family business. If it meant she had to deal with one more daddy’s pocket leech…

"On the bright side, we finally perfected the citrus glaze for the salmon, and the guests couldn't get enough of the hors d'oeuvres last night, so I guess the test was a success.."

When you finally stopped talking and walking, she found herself face to face with an… interesting looking thing on a plate.

“What is that?” She said, dumbfounded.

“Oh, that’s the lemon pie thing you asked for.” You answered nonchalantly. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“Are you serious?” Her stance and tone changed, cold and threatening like you had the joy of experiencing earlier this month. Didn’t shake you anymore though. The dumb smile on your face was still there, dangerously creeping into a smirk. She couldn’t wipe it for some reason.

“Yeah, that sucks. I guess I lost three hours of my life.” You shrugged, eyes lingering on the edible failure staining the porcelain. “Doesn’t taste bad, though.” You handed her a piece with a spoon you’d clearly already used, and Momo’s stare hardened.

“Fix this.”

Obviously, you would. But you couldn’t let it happen without messing with her first. So you stared right back into her eyes, holding her gaze just long enough to make her doubt and fear the opposite. The tension hung thick in the air, reaching a new high, until she finally broke away and walked off, her frustration evident in every step.

You watched her walk, the smirk now very apparent and mocking her back.

“I’ll do just that, you don’t have to worry.” You cupped your hands around your lips to make sure she heard it, distracting a few chefs around you.

You were oblivious to the looks they threw your way, your gaze was focused on Momo’s retreating figure.

"I'll leave you some on your desk, make sure to try it!” That smirk was evident on your lips, and she could hear it in your voice, feel it getting under her skin.

You were a challenge alright. A damn good one.

—

Momo walked back into the building only days later. You frowned at the sight of her, shoulders obviously tense paired with familiar sour features. The exposed skin told you a lot about her potential whereabouts these past few days. Added to the rumors going around, it didn’t leave that much of a mystery…

“Oh, we’re cooked.” Ryujin, the intern, mumbled under her breath, catching yours and a chef’s attention.

“Yeah, we should have seen it coming.” The chef, Mingyu, sighed, dropping a heavy pan on top of the counter beside you.

“Why, what happened?” You asked, easing yourself into their conversation.

Ryujin’s eyes widened, startled by the interruption. “I uh,” she stammered before Mingyu spoke up.

“Word on the street is, her father set her up with Park's daughter.” He chuckled to himself, making you curious.

“Park’s daughter… The Park branch daughter?” You asked, the name ringing more and more familiar. “You mean Jihyo? Isn’t she managing the H-Lounge?”

H-Lounge was a private, high end rooftop lounge managed by Mr.Park, Mr.Hirai’s right hand man. Big bar, little food, and big walls; a white collar’s favorite and the Hirai’s most profitable branch. From what you knew, Jihyo’s been pretty much running things for years now, her father only still there because of Momo’s.

“Yeah, but she’s on her way to the throne basically. Her dad’s been pushing for her to take the reins for a while now. Old man’s tired.” Mingyu commented, pulling a laugh out of Ryujin.

You squinted, watching as Momo disappeared around the corner to her office.

“Yeah. But didn’t they try to go solo with the Lounge once?” Ryujin asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she recalled rumors from a year ago. “Sounds kinda fishy.”

“And shady.” Mingyu nodded. “Seems to me like Boss Hirai’s desperate to make her stay.”

“Which one?”

You were confused out of your mind, and Mingyu could tell. He was amused when you met his eyes, begging for some clarity.

“Both,” he said. “Power play. Or two birds one stone type of deal. A Park-Hirai marriage would be beyond convenient for him—Jihyo’s a hot head, she could never hold this whole thing together without Momo stepping in at one point, he knows that. It’s the only way he gets to keep both of his most precious assets.”

You shook your head. There was no way. The idea didn’t even match with the Momo you knew. "I don't see it. Momo's way too stubborn and prideful to let something like this happen to her. She's not the type to be manipulated like that."

"You think?" Ryujin asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded. "Yeah. I mean, you see how she handles things... Father or not, she won't just bend to someone else's will.”

Mingyu shook his head, a knowing look in his eyes glued on Momo’s figure passing by. "I think she already is..."

You all watched as she disappeared around the corner to her office, and you noticed her shoulders slump for the briefest of moments

It was a slight, almost imperceptible shift, but it struck you deeply for some reason. For the first time, you saw a crack in that impossibly unyielding façade.

A mix of concern and confusion washed over you. Despite the fierce exterior she projected on that comeback walk, there was clearly more weighing on her than she let on. Could Mingyu be right? Was Momo already being pulled back into the company's grasp despite that stubborn pride of hers?

You felt a rush of protectiveness overcome you, but quickly pushed it aside. What a useless, unbased feeling. Momo was fine. She wouldn't let herself be manipulated so easily… Right?

You pondered on the question for a while, but came up with the same answer every time.

She’ll be fine.

You sighed as the day wound down, leaning against a counter. Your gaze wandered to the door to Momo’s office, finding it closed as always. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen nor heard it open since earlier that afternoon��

Was she still there?

Curiosity and concern got the better of you, and you decided to take the opportunity to show her the new and improved lemon pie she’d asked you to fix.

You made your way to her office, the building now eerily quiet. You didn’t wait for an answer before walking in. It was surprisingly dark, only lit by a small hanging light attached to the wall above the desk. This place was such a broom closet… You almost felt sorry for her then remembered what she’d told you.

"Technically this is still the kitchen, this wall is literal plastic."

You mentally scoffed at the memory. You couldn't believe the pettiness of that woman.

"What is that?" Momo asked, her eyes lifting from the paper for the first time in what felt like days.

Whatever was in that plate definitely looked better than the last thing you’d presented her. It held a certain finesse she wasn’t indifferent to.

"It's the pie you asked for," you said, eyes twinkling in pride. “Well, a deconstructed version of it.”

“It’s not what I asked for,” she trailed off, observing the fine details. Her eyes traced the delicate swirls of meringue and the vibrant yellow of the lemon gel. It wasn't what she had originally envisioned, but there was a beauty to it she couldn't deny. "But it's pretty."

You smiled, taking a seat on a corner of her desk as you pulled out a spoon as an offering. A clean one this time.

She was hesitant. Messing the dish up would feel like a crime, but so was leaving food unattended. So she finally dug in, picking up a bit of everything before humming at the taste of it all.

“Tastes the same as the failure, just… so much better.”

Your face lit up at the mention of that failed attempt a few days earlier. You’d kept your word and left it at her desk, hoping she’d have a taste despite the failure. It still had potential, and you wanted her to know.

“You had some?” Your eyes sparkled, and it made you look so much sweeter than you’d been lately. Momo felt herself falter for a second, slipping you a gentle smile before catching herself.

She cleared her throat, lowering the spoon down, the latter clattering on the porcelain as she went for another bite.

“I did.” She nodded. “You were right by the way. It wasn’t bad at all, just… unfortunate looking.”

You were only surprised she was admitting it; and this easily no less.

“So what do we do now? Do we listen to me more, or…?”

Momo sighed, and a victorious smile made its way to your lips before she even uttered the words. “Fine. You can freestyle a bit.” You cheered, and it took a lot for her not to mirror your happiness. “Don’t get too excited. You better follow the menu.”

“Or then what?”

She only glared at you, and the switch in her gaze was enough to turn you down. Or on. [What?]

“I’m kidding. Glad to be working with you.” You said, flashing her a grin that she could only see as cocky.

Momo's eyes rolled in annoyance, getting up from her seat and picking up the blazer on the back of it. As she gathered her stuff, you understood she was going home for the day. It was getting late, the restaurant had closed a couple hours ago and all the staff was gone too. You should get going too, but you feel a sudden pang of reluctance…

“You're going already?" You blurt out, unable to suppress the urge to keep her here just a little while longer.

Momo raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor. "You just shook my hand," she pointed out.

"Well, yes, but..." you trail off, grasping at your brain for any excuse to keep her here a moment longer. You couldn’t explain it. You didn’t understand either, but there was something about her presence that you find strangely comforting in the moment.

Maybe it was the lack of noise and chaos in the background, behind the office door she kept closed; only for you to burst it open anytime you had a complaint or an idea.

The silence, the dim lighting, their absence or her presence… Or the fact that she was actually pleased with your work for once. Explicitly at least. Most likely a gas leak you didn’t know about that messed with your thoughts—you couldn’t tell. But it was something.

There was something keeping you glued to that desk.

She was about to leave again, but this time you reached out and grabbed her hand, your fingers closing around hers in a firm grip. Both of you froze, the air suddenly charged with… again, something as you held her gaze.

"You said you'd be stepping in," you blurted out once more, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You weren’t sure what possessed you to say it, but now that it was out there, you couldn’t take it back.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching as her mind raced to make sense of your words.

When she’d told you she’d step in, she didn’t think you’d take it seriously. That was her first mistake maybe, but to her, stepping in meant overseeing the preparations, making decisions about the menu, and handling the logistical details of the banquet. She never intended to actually cook alongside you, and quite frankly, she didn’t know how you could possibly think she would.

Were you stupid or purposefully getting on her nerves like you so often seemed to enjoy? Didn't you realize she had other responsibilities, obligations she had to take care of over cooking?

This was literally why she’d sought you out.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"You haven't helped once in the kitchen since we started, and it's basically been a month," You retorted, your tone edged with frustration. "For someone who prides herself on integrity, you sure are amazing at keeping your word."

Your words were like a slap to the face, and Momo felt a surge of defensiveness rise within her. Your claims sure were bold for someone who did nothing but defy her words ever since the beginning.

But beneath the anger, there's a stain of guilt, a nagging feeling that maybe - just maybe - you might have a point. From a certain angle, you could say she did kind of manipulate you into working for her by throwing that phrase; or let’s call it as it was : an empty promise.

Momo sighed as she struggled to find the right words to get herself out of this. Your gaze was merciless on her, probing and insistent as you waited for an explanation. Or just admittance.

"I meant overseeing things, making decisions about the menu, handling the logistics, the usual," she finally explained, her frustration evident in her tone. "I still have a million other things to take care of for that banquet, you know. It's not like I can just drop everything and spend all day cooking with you."

She paused, searching your face for any sign of understanding or sympathy, but all she found was a stubborn determination. A refusal to back down from your position. And despite herself, she felt a small spark of admiration flickered to life within her.

"Look," she continued, her voice softening slightly. "I appreciate your dedication, I really do. But you have to understand that I can't just drop everything to cater to your whims. I have a responsibility to my family, to our guests, to ensure that everything goes smoothly. And if that means I have to delegate certain tasks to you, then so be it."

Her words were only met with silence. She waited for your response, bracing herself for another confrontation. But to her surprise, you nodded, a hint of understanding in your eyes.

The relief washing over her heart at the sight startled her. Why did she want to see it? Why did she want you to understand anyway?

"Alright," you said, your voice calm and measured. "I get it. I just... I guess I was hoping for more, you know? More than just orders and instructions. I wanted to be a part of something. Contribute in a meaningful way."

“You are a part of something, Y/n,” she reassured, and the hand she dropped on your shoulder caught you off guard. Her gaze had softened, but it only made you panic.

Here comes the guilt tripping, you mentally sighed, bracing for impact.

Before you could even muster an attempt to deflect the incoming emotional onslaught, she continued, her words flowing with as much determination as you were used to. "You know, this banquet isn’t just another project for me. It may not seem like it, but I care about it a lot. I take it as a farewell, a thank you to my family and the opportunities they’ve gifted me."

You opened your mouth to intervene, to offer some semblance of resistance, but she plowed on, crushing any attempts to cut in. "And not only are you a part of it, you’re leading it, Y/n. I trust you."

The words hit like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. One of the rare times in your life. Here you were, caught in the midst of a heartfelt moment, unable to muster even a hint of humor to lighten the mood. With a silent sigh, you resigned yourself to the inevitable, silently acknowledging her words.

All you could do was drop your gaze, nodding. You almost felt shameful for trying to ignore her possibly having feelings.

“Thank you for trusting me.” You muttered, fiddling with your fingers before looking back at her. “I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly. Food wise at least.”

Momo nodded in acknowledgment, finally removing her hand from your shoulder. Her feet stuttered before turning away. She’d made it to the door pretty quickly, but a sudden thought halted her tracks.

The sudden stop in the sound of her expensive heels caught your attention, and you looked up at her. Your gaze and eyebrows silently inquired her, and she smiled sheepishly. Another display of vulnerability that made your heart jump.

“Can I bring that home?”

Momo nodded towards the desk, referring to the unfinished dessert you’d brought her. She wanted to take it to her mother. Give her a preview of what was to come in a couple weeks.

The request made you smile. A little happy if you dared to say so. You reached for the plate to hand it to her, only to take it with you as you finally got up from that desk. “Wait, let me get you a takeout box.”

“We have takeout boxes?” She said, dumbfounded. You only stared at her, speechless but not surprised. You could only shake your head, before leading the way to the kitchen.

“I was just kidding by the way, I know we have them.”

She didn’t. Something you proved when you made her search for them. You let her walk around and act as though she had any idea where anything was in that kitchen before she gave up and surrendered to your amused, almost mocking gaze.

You added a few more of the day’s tests and leftovers into the box before packing it all up before sending her home with a smile.

She was nice to be around when you weren’t trying to step on each other’s toes.

—

The dining room of the Hirai residence was bathed in soft candlelight, casting a warm glow over an overly elegant table set for two. The head of the table felt empty with her father’s absence, a recurring one lately as he tended to matters deemed important for the company. Momo usually sat on his right, like she did tonight. Her mother, Mrs. Hirai, took her seat right across. Despite the picturesque scene, a palpable tension lingered in the air. Another recurrence Momo dreaded every day for months now.

Momo longed for the laughter that used to bring her family together around this table. The same one she announced her intent on renouncing to the heiress title. The same seat she’d left holding back tears at the words her father had thrown at her over a year ago.

Mr. Hirai never meant any of them, she knew that. He’d told her that, apologized soon after and long ago. But the thought, the scene, the sound… It’ll always tug at her heart, and dig the tears from deep within.

Momo swallowed hard at the sudden flashback, suppressing the pain. She managed to do that quite well; better as time passed.

The only problem was how she still couldn’t say a word at this table.

Conversation flowed in fits and starts as both women picked at their plate. Mrs. Hirai seemed determined to bridge the gap growing between them, her attempts at small talk falling flat against Momo's stony silence.

Then came a time where she was unable to bear the awkwardness any longer. The older woman cleared her throat and fixed her daughter with a searching gaze. "Momo, dear, I must say, this is all absolutely divine. You must have put a lot of thought into it."

Momo glanced up, her eyes meeting her mother's briefly before returning to her plate. "Actually, it’s Y/n who’s behind it all," she admitted, her tone guarded.

Mrs. Hirai's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Y/n? The new chef at your restaurant?"

Momo nodded, her mind already bracing for the inevitable conversation about her future. “A real talent for sure. Lots of potential. The whole experimenting thing is something we needed.”

Concern etched Mrs. Hirai's features before she composed herself, her expression becoming more serious. "Momo, don’t you want to reconsider at least once?”

Momo's shoulders tensed, steeling herself for the argument she knew was about to unfold. "Mom, we've been over this. I've made up my mind."

Mrs. Hirai regarded her daughter with a mixture of resignation and disbelief. "Think about what you’ll be leaving behind, it makes no sense! This company is your birthright, it’s your legacy, you have to uphold it."

Momo sighed, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I know, Mom, but I just don't want it. You’re asking me to be the head of it all as if I haven’t just been taking orders and following plans my whole life. I’m telling you I can’t bear all that, I don’t…"

Tears pricked at Momo’s eyes, “I don’t want to fail.”

"I understand, dear.” Mrs. Hirai's expression softened, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “But you have a responsibility to the family, to your father's legacy."

"I'm trying, Mom! Why do you think I go on all these dates for?" Momo's frustration boiled over, her voice rising slightly.

Mrs. Hirai recoiled slightly at the sudden outburst, her expression pained. "Well, it is taking a while," she murmured, "Maybe you should reconsider your approach."

Momo's jaw clenched, her frustration only mounting. "It's not my fault they're all brainless," she muttered, stabbing at the poor short ribs you’d braised to perfection. "Half of them are grossly aroused by your pockets. If you're fine with that, then tell me, and I'll gladly shorten the process."

Mrs. Hirai sighed, a mix between sorrow and anger. "Momo, we just want what's best for you. The company is important, yes, but so is your happiness."

As much as the company mattered to her parents, Momo’s happiness came above all. They’d worked so hard to provide for her, to ensure she never lacked anything. Especially love. Theirs had birthed this wonderful girl, whom they nurtured with, only wishing for her to find her own.

Seeing their daughter ready to sacrifice such a value broke their hearts more than her leaving the company.

"I know, Mom. I just wish..." Momo's shoulders sagged, her anger dissipating as she met her mother's gaze.

Mrs. Hirai saw the opportunity to mention what's been lingering on her mind. "I noticed your father has been setting you up with Jihyo. She's a capable woman, and the Park family is influential. It could be a good match for both of you, professionally and personally."

Momo scoffed, tearing through the last of her cutlet. "Jihyo’s basically the daughter of our closest enemy. She’s a wild card, Mom.”

Mrs. Hirai blinked, taken aback by Momo's bluntness. It was a true definition, but such frank acknowledgment of their family's associates was rarely spoken aloud. It felt like breaking a taboo.

“Momo—”

“Listen, she's a nice enough person, but she's not what I need nor want. I know Dad thinks that pushing me towards her will make me stay in the company and keep things stable. Nice try, but we’re not six, and it's not fair to either of us."

Mrs. Hirai's face softened, "Momo, he just wants to make you jealous,” she said, a light chuckle leaving her lips.

“What?”

“You’re giving your father too much credit, as always.” She shook her head, clearly amused. “Remember when you actually were six and didn’t want to go to bed? The way he went to grab the dog and act all cuddly with it, instead of you? He’s doing the same with Jihyo. Grabbing the closest thing to replace you, hoping you’ll come tear it up and claim your place again.”

Momo's eyes widened, processing her mother's words. She was over here claiming she was so old and mature now, but he was doing the same thing as when she was young. Getting a hold of the closest, emotionally threatening enough thing around to get her to listen to him.

"So... he's not serious about Jihyo?"

Mrs. Hirai sighed. "He's serious about wanting you to stay. He thinks seeing Jihyo in your place will make you reconsider."

Momo shook her head, feeling the tears well up in her eyes again. "I don't want to be manipulated like this. I want my decisions to be mine, not because Dad is playing games."

Her mother reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's. "I understand, dear. But sometimes, those who love us most will do anything to keep us close."

Momo's lip trembled. "I don’t care, it's not fair, Mom. How can you be okay with this?"

Hearing her mother back her father’s insane behavior was heartbreaking. Disappointing. Momo's chest tightened, a nauseating mix of frustration and betrayal surging within her as she caught her mother’s eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I'm not saying I agree with his methods, Momo. But I know he's scared. Scared of losing you."

Momo looked down, her tears finally spilling over. "I just want to live my own life, make my own choices. Why can't he understand that?"

Her mother sighed, squeezing her hand gently. "Because he loves you, and he's afraid. Afraid that without the company, without us, you'll be lost. He doesn't realize how strong you've become."

Momo shook her head, frustration and sadness mingling in her heart. "I wish he could see that."

Mrs. Hirai nodded, her voice gentle. "Show him, Momo. The banquet is yours. Let him see what you can achieve on your own terms. Prove to him that you're capable of making your own choices and succeeding."

Momo took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. "You really think that will make a difference?"

Mrs. Hirai offered her a soft smile. "I do. Just be patient.”

Momo nodded, though the weight of her father's manipulations still pressed heavily on her heart. As she focused back on the food on her plate, her thoughts wandered back to you, and she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope.

That glimmer of hope, it burned softly within her heart. Still too weak for her to feel anything other than relief at the thought of you.

—

“Can you at least pretend to be useful?” You snapped, slamming an oven door shut. “I need everyone on deck, and you’re just standing there complaining!”

The kitchen was bustling, the whole brigade rushing around to perfect their dishes as the deadline for the banquet loomed closer. Momo had scheduled a tasting tonight, placing you at the heart of the chaos. You tried to maintain control and ensure everything was perfect, but it was hard doing so when someone seemed determined to get in your way.

Momo's behavior had shifted over the past two weeks. She'd started paying more attention, trying to be more involved. It wasn't purely altruistic—she saw a silver lining in your presence. One that could solve all her problems. You challenged her in ways she hadn't experienced since her rookie days, igniting a new source of motivation. For once, she felt driven, compelled to prove herself.

So she decided to make you feel at ease—for her own gain, yes, but you won something in the deal, didn't you?

After that night in the office, she made it a point to be around more, offering assistance, and listening to you more.

It was promising.

But she had to ruin that too.

Today, she decided to supervise the brigade as you prepared for tonight's tasting. Her presence was only getting in the way of everyone, especially you. You tried to keep your focus, but Momo's constant hovering and her split attention were grating on your nerves.

As she stood in the kitchen, her phone buzzed constantly with texts from Jihyo. She tried to juggle the mounting pressure from her father, the complications with Jihyo, and her responsibilities; but it was obviously getting too much on one plate.

You glanced at Momo, noticing the tension in her posture, the way she bit her lip as she read her messages. The way she moved, the way her eyes sparked with intensity—it all captivated you for a second, distracting you in ways you didn't need at the moment.

Momo’s irritation mirrored yours. She snapped her head up from her phone, eyes blazing. "I would if you gave me anything remotely interesting to do. I won't just fetch things for you like some errand boy."

You scoffed, crossing your arms, trying to ignore the way her anger only seemed to add to her intensity. “Seriously? Picking and choosing at a time like this? If you were just going to screw me over you shouldn’t have bothered in the first place!”

Momo only chuckled, “Really? Because I could have sworn you’d begged for me to be here.”

“Right.” You nodded. “When I did that I didn’t think you’d take it as an invite to smear yourself all over anything I do again. We agreed you’d let me handle the kitchen, why are you so hellbent on keeping tabs, just let me do my job!”

“This whole thing was my idea.” Momo shot back, stepping closer. “You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me. That name you’re so proud of means nothing without my backing.”

“You’re not doing anything but sabotaging yourself.” Your voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. “I’m gonna need you to take your eyes off your own ass and look around you. Who do you recognize?”

Momo stayed silent, her mind racing. She glanced around, seeing the faces and eyes focused on her—some confused, some irritated. She realized she couldn’t put a single name to any of them. Her heart sank as the reality of her detachment hit her. The bustling kitchen, the brigade working tirelessly, and she couldn’t even acknowledge their efforts properly.

She felt a knot of frustration and embarrassment tightening in her chest.

You chuckled, “See what happens when you’re too busy playing corporate princess? Just let me f****** handle it.”

Her anger flared again, some kind of defense against the sting of that realization. “You think you’re so indispensable, don’t you?” she hissed. “That your presence is the only thing holding this together? Get over yourself, Y/n.”

“Sure I will. Please, lead the way like you so beautifully know how!” You gestured, hands as sarcastic as your tone.

The tension was palpable, your breaths mingling as you stood face to face, neither willing to back down. For a moment, it seemed like the argument might escalate further, but then Momo broke eye contact, her gaze shifting to her surroundings.

“Your arrogance will be your downfall,” she spat, voice trembling with suppressed rage. “You think you’ve done such a great job running this s***show, huh?”

When she looked back at you, her eyes met yours with nothing but anger as something else she couldn’t quite place tried to ease itself in. She hated the way you managed to make her feel—vulnerable, exposed.

“You better prove it tonight or I’ll make sure you’ll regret ever stepping into this kitchen.”

Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you standing amidst the chaos, that short and fragile truce between you two shattered yet again.

Tasting sure was going to be interesting…

—

That same night, the dining room was elegantly arranged, a stark contrast to the chaos of the kitchen earlier in the day. The table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, casting delicate reflections under the soft, ambient lighting. Momo sat between her parents, a tight smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes. Around the table were key senior staff members, trusted friends, and a few family members, all eager to sample the menu.

You, along with your brigade, moved seamlessly between the kitchen and the dining room. You made sure to put your hard earned skills to use, presenting each course with a practiced grace, detailing the inspiration and techniques behind every dish. Despite the tension in the air linking you to Momo, your professionalism never faltered, though your eyes rarely left the plates you were serving.

Each course was met with nods of approval, murmurs of appreciation, and the occasional question, which you answered with an admirable precision. Momo, however, remained silent, her gaze fixed on her plate. Her parents exchanged glances, concern etching their features.

When dessert was finally brought out, a hush fell over the table. You presented the dish—the deconstructed lemon meringue pie—explaining the delicate balance of flavors and textures. The room filled with the scent of citrus and caramelized sugar.

"Momo," Mrs. Hirai's voice cut through the murmurs, "you haven't said much tonight. What do you think?"

Momo looked up, her eyes meeting her mother's before shifting uncomfortably to the food in front of her. She felt the weight of everyone's gaze, including yours as you had paused in your explanation to listen.

"It's... it's very well done," she finally said, her voice painfully devoid of any enthusiasm. "The team has done an excellent job."

Her father frowned, leaning forward. "You can do better than that. Your opinion matters here. Speak up."

Momo's jaw tightened. She spent the entire evening avoiding your gaze, the argument from earlier still fresh and raw. Both of you were acting like children after a petty feud over a toy, going out of your way to avoid acknowledging each other.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "The dessert is innovative and beautifully executed. It’s exactly what I envisioned for the banquet."

Your eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and annoyance, recognizing the lie she’d just pushed through her teeth. She hadn’t envisioned anything—you’d fought tooth and nail over every detail up until hours ago.

"Thank you, Momo," Your voice strained in an attempt to stay polite. "I'm glad it meets your expectations."

The air grew thicker with obviously unspoken words. Momo’s parents exchanged another glance, sensing the underlying tension.

Mr. Hirai cleared his throat. "It’s important for us to be honest during these tastings. If there’s anything that needs to be improved, now is the time to speak up."

Momo felt her irritation grow. "I said it's fine, Father."

"Momo, we're just trying to help.” Her mother interjected gently, “If there’s anything you're not happy with, you need to communicate that."

That’s when you decided to step in, your tone sharp. "I think we all understand the importance of feedback. I have to say Momo's input has been invaluable—despite her current silence."

Momo's eyes flashed with anger. "Invaluable? Really? Seems to me like my input has been more of an inconvenience to you."

Your jaw clenched. "I never said that. But if you actually participated instead of hovering, it might be more constructive."

"Participated?” She shot back. “You mean following your every whim? I have better things to do than micromanage your kitchen."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. You caught Momo's parents looking between you and their daughter, realizing just how deep the rift had reached.

Mrs. Hirai spoke up first to try and defuse the situation. "Let’s not forget why we're here. The food is excellent, and we’re all looking forward to the banquet. Let’s focus on that."

Momo took a deep breath, faking a smile. "Yes, Mother. You're right. The food is great. Let's enjoy it."

But the damage was done. The altercation had cast a shadow over the evening and lingered in the air, unresolved and simmering just below the surface.

—

The kitchen was finally empty, the last of the staff having been dismissed for the night. You leaned against the counter, the cool steel pressing into your back as you took a moment to breathe. The day had been long and grueling, but at least the tasting was a success, earning yourself and your brigade a few days of rest before the banquet.

You should feel relieved, at least a little bit, you knew that. Yet you couldn’t break free from the weight of the air around you, mounted with tension from yours and Momo’s altercation.

It was suffocating. The hold she had on you, you could say you’d allowed it if only you could put a stop to it. If you at least wanted to make it stop…

The sound of the door to the kitchen creaking open halted your thoughts and Momo stepped inside. You could tell by the heels clicking softly on the tiled floor, and the way you instantly straightened yourself.

You watched her approach with guarded eyes, noticing her arms crossed over her chest. You mirrored her posture when she came close enough, crossing your own, guarding yourself up.

Momo noticed, eyes flickering to the tattoos peeking from beneath your rolled-up sleeves. She hadn’t seen those a lot, only finding out you had them when she started hanging around the kitchen more. Might have been a reason for her to do so, asking you to go and reach for utensils high-up just to peek.

She shook the thoughts away, finding your eyes and focusing on them. “Hey,” she began, her voice softer than you were used to. “Good job.”

The words almost made you choke. You swallowed hard, mouth drying up at the bitterness suddenly filling your heart. Momo waited for an answer, probably feeling entitled to one before she remembered you’d never given in to her.

“How are you feeling?” She tried again, leaning against the counter across from you. Her soft tone matched her eyes this time, so you allowed yourself to answer her.

“Fine, I guess.” You shrugged, eyes sweeping the floor. “It went well.”

She nodded, hesitating. “Yeah, it did. My parents were impressed.”

“That’s good to hear.” You replied, not looking at her.

Momo took a deep breath, steeling herself. "About earlier... I'm sorry. I’m the one who started yelling. Wasn't really professional of me."

You chuckled, finally meeting her eyes. "Did you just apologize? Didn't know you had it in you."

Her irritation flared once more. "I'm serious, Y/n. I get that this isn’t something you’re used to from me, but I can admit I was out of line."

"Okay, okay," you said, raising your hands. "Apology accepted."

You were so… nonchalant about it. As if you couldn’t care less. If you were honest, you could, but the reaction you were having didn’t exactly reflect that. It wasn’t the one she expected and she didn’t like it.

She almost started another argument before catching herself. Her jaw clenched, holding back some words to replace them with others she deemed more… gentle. Better suited to air out her frustrations. “Why are you still so defensive? The tasting went well anyway, didn’t it? Everything was perfect, my parents loved it, and everything has your name on it. You got what you wanted so why the attitude? Stop being so childish.”

That kind of shut you up. Momo couldn’t believe the silence that followed her words. She was right, you were adult enough to admit that. Just not enough to do it out loud. Not enough not to talk back.

You just had to do it for some reason. Maybe it was because her words struck a nerve, hitting closer to home than you were willing to admit.

"Fine," you muttered. "But you’re not exactly making it easy."

You honestly felt like a child, not being able to process or understand what's happening, so you took out your frustrations the only way you knew how to : throwing a tantrum.

Momo sighed, exasperated. "Are you going to keep this up during the banquet too? Does talking back to me and disregarding me turn you on or something?"

You scoffed, but it’s painfully evident in the moment, that you’re indeed attracted to her. But you’d never admit that either. You wouldn’t because, apart from her being attractive, you can’t tell why that is. “You wish.”

“You know what, maybe I do.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, and Momo caught you struggling. She wanted—no, she needed—to let you know. That you couldn’t hide from her. Yet her lips refused to do anything else than let you know her own truth.

“Maybe then I could make a reason out of your behavior,” she whispered, words trembling in frustration.

Silence. Not an uncomfortable one, but odd. Eerie. Neither of you knew what the next words would be or where they’d come from, but you sure were getting ready for them.

Her eyes weren't looking into yours anymore. They were searching, reflecting, maybe even reaching out to her own fears. You saw it—the shift, the hesitation.

You didn’t expect her to speak up first.

“If you can’t do it for me then do it for yourself,” she started, “If this fails my family will take a hit, sure, but ultimately you and I both know we’ll be fine. Your career’s the only thing on the line here.”

Her voice was cold, icy, cutting through your ego with reminders of where you stood in this environment. In this industry. She jabbed her finger against your chest, making each one of her points clear and painful.

So you grabbed her hand, pushing it down with enough force to make a statement and let your stubbornness shine through yet again

"Don't," your voice low, enough of a threat to pull a reaction out of her too.

Momo's patience snapped. She grabbed a fistful of your white button-up, creasing up your pride and pulling you closer, her eyes not leaving yours.

You noticed for the first time, just how pretty she was and how dangerous that is. Your heart was desperate to make you feel it, practically racing against her own.

“You know what,” a smirk quivered on your lips at how tightly she held onto you. “Maybe this is all about more than just work.” You strained out, words slipping and pushing through the limits you’d drawn around her.

You reveled in the way she let you go. Her fist released your shirt, pushing you away only for her fingers to linger on the fabric and keep you from going too far.

You made a point to step back, biting the inside of your lip when she took a stepped forward.

Maybe it did turn you on a little.

"I warned you earlier, didn't I?” Her eyes burned into yours, as if trying to distract you from the weakness she’s been displaying. “You do whatever you want on Friday. One wrong move, and I might just keep my word this time."

"Maybe you should," you retorted, your eyes flashing with defiance, provoking the spark of anger in her own.

Her proximity was intoxicating. It would be betraying your own words, painting a coward out of yourself, but you still tried to step away. Your foot carefully slipped back, ready to carry you elsewhere and flee.

Halfway there, and you were back to square one. Suffocating under Momo’s impulse, drowning into the feeling of her lips continuously crashing against yours…

She pulled you back in even closer, her fist having claimed itself around the fresh crease of your shirt. You didn’t fight to remove it this time, finding it much easier and pleasant to surrender.

Your kisses were vicious against each other’s. Anything but gentle, fueled by anger and weeks of built up frustrations.

You lost yourselves into a simmering attraction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Even when you found enough strength to pull apart. And even less when you realized just how much it took to do so.

The air seemed to thin out, charged with more tension than it held moments ago. More than ever before.

Your breaths were heavy, mingling with hers as you stared at each other’s features in shock and confusion.

Momo’s eyes were hazy, lips a neat mess and swollen from the kiss. “This doesn’t change anything.” she whispered, visibly shaken by her own actions.

You only nodded, busy trying yet unable to process the depth of what just happened. She slipped herself away from your arms and you watched her go, a mixture of frustration and longing churning in your chest.

The night felt colder, the kitchen emptier as you stood there, thoughts in a whirlwind. The kiss had changed everything and nothing, leaving both of you with more needs and questions than before.

—

“You kissed her?!”

“No, she kissed me!”

“That doesn’t matter!”

It really didn’t, Jeongyeon was right. So you let her slap you on the arm, the sting a light and playful discipline.

A couple of days passed, and you wasted two days of your hard earned break wallowing on your couch until Jeongyeon came by to drag you out of it for brunch. You complained the whole time, for entertainment purposes, but you were thankful for her.

With how busy you’d been since joining Momo, the two of you had only seen each other once. You made sure to keep her updated though, or rather she did by pestering you and teasing you about both your behaviors. She managed to keep herself up to date with every single little thing that had happened between you and Momo.

All except the latest.

“Like it’s my fault?” You argued, “Who wears a cropped dress shirt to a tasting…”

Jeongyeon chuckled at the state of you. All sprawled out on the table, chin resting on your forearm as you played with a few crumbs of your toast. She noticed the way your eyes wandered far away from this table, probably digging into your memories of Momo in that cropped dress shirt.

How pathetic, to her delight.

She shrugged at your words, reaching for her cup. “Less fabric, less stain prone. She’s got a point.”

You threw a piece of bread at her, but she dodged. “Why did she wear a tie then?” You straightened yourself up in your seat. “Seems to me like that would be just as much fabric as a regular dress shirt.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, “Stop blaming the shirt, and get a grip. You kissed her because you like her.”

“Back. I didn’t kiss her, I kissed her back.”

“That’s still a lot of kissing. So you’re not denying it, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, and snickered when you sighed. “You like her.”

You ran a hand through your hair, exasperated. "I don't even know what I feel, Jeongyeon. It's... complicated."

Jeongyeon smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Feelings usually are. But denying it won't make it any less true."

You groaned. "She's infuriating. One minute she's criticizing everything I do, the next she's—."

"Kissing you," Jeongyeon finished, taking a sip of her coffee.

You wanted to knock that smirk of hers (lovingly) off her lips, but resigned, feeling yourself smile at the joke. Too bad she was being truthful too.

"Yeah.” You fiddled with a napkin in your reach, your smile fading as you thought back to the moment. “And it wasn't just a peck, you know? It was... intense."

Jeongyeon chuckled. "Sounds like there's some serious chemistry there. Maybe all that fighting was just foreplay."

You glared at her, but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips again. "You're not helping."

She leaned forward, her expression softening. "Look, Y/n, you've always been passionate about your work. Maybe she sees that and respects it, even if she has a hard time showing it. She's probably just as confused about her feelings as you are."

You sighed again, feeling the weight of her words. "Maybe. But what do I do now? She’s git the worst timing ever, we’ve got the banquet coming up; I can't afford any distractions."

Jeongyeon smiled knowingly. "Just be honest with yourself. And let go of your pride a little, who knows, maybe then she’ll be nice to you. If what you both truly want is for that banquet to work out, you’ll know to set this aside for now. Behave, and the rest will follow. Probably."

You gave Jeongyeon a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by her attempt to absolve herself of responsibility. "Probably?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Jeongyeon shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Hey, I'm just here to nudge you in the right direction. The rest is up to you. Relationships are messy, but you'll never know if you don't try."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair again. "I guess you're right. It's just... a very uncharted territory right now."

Jeongyeon nodded, her expression turning sincere. "I know. But she might just be worth getting into it, I mean… I wouldn’t mind letting my guard down around her.”

You rolled your eyes, "Of course you wouldn't."

"You should do the same," she said teasingly. "Seriously, Y/n."

You looked down, a small smile playing at your lips. "Maybe. We'll see."

"That's the spirit,” Jeongyeon grinned. “Now finish that toast and get back out there. You've got a banquet to hold. And a girl to figure out."

You chuckled, “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Jeongyeon."

"Sure. Just invite me to the wedding."

—

Momo stood in front of the grand mirror in her room, adjusting the final touches of her outfit. The sleek black suit, paired with a statement pearl choker, gave her an air of authority and elegance she loved to see on herself. The sharp lines of the fabric contrasted with the delicate jewelry, creating a powerful and refined look.

She glanced at her reflection, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Her mind raced with thoughts of the evening ahead, the guests, the speeches, the food, and most of all, you.

Since that kiss, everything had become a whirlwind of confusion. You were infuriating, challenging, and utterly impossible to read. The kiss had only complicated things further, as if that relationship needed another tangled strain. What was she thinking… It was hard to focus on anything else when she replayed the moment in her mind, over and over again. Your lips on hers, the intensity, the fire—it had been unexpected, unplanned, and yet, it felt strangely good.

And then there was Jihyo. The situation with her was just as headache inducing. Jihyo's texts, her father's manipulations, and the pressure to stay in the company-everything just kept weighing on her. Yet somehow, in the midst of it all, she didn't mind any of it. As if the kiss had awakened something in her, something allowing her to bear all that weight. She hadn't felt that in a long time. It made her question everything, including her feelings for you and what she truly wanted for her future.

She didn’t like that. But she didn’t exactly mind it either.

As she walked into the venue, her eyes scanned the room, filled with guests fighting for best dressed mingling along with some others… settled for comfort. The atmosphere was buzzing, poking at Momo's racing heart. She felt nervous, not just from the pressure of the evening, but from the thought of seeing you again. She hadn't seen you since that night in the kitchen, and she wasn't sure what to expect.

It took a while, but her eyes finally found you across the room, looking dapper in your chef's uniform. For the first time, as a sign of gratitude and hopefully good news for your future, you were made to wear the official uniform of the Hirai kitchens. The jet black jacket, adorned with the restaurant's insignia, felt weird and new, but the colors … You could get used to them, and the material was soft enough.

You were talking to one of the guests, a polite smile on your face, but she could see the tension in your posture. You must have felt her gaze because you looked up, eyes locking with hers for a brief, electrifying moment.

You took Jeongyeon's advice to heart, determined to behave, to keep things professional despite the need to lash out at your own confusing feelings, and by extension; her. So you approached her cautiously, using the distance separating her from you to try and calm that pounding in your chest.

"Momo," you greeted, your voice came out steady enough, but your eyes betrayed your nerves.

"Y/n," she replied, her own voice calm.

You stood there for a moment, the silence hanging heavy with the memory of your kiss, a palpable tension neither of you could ignore.

"You look nice. Very professional," You finally said, breaking the silence. Your words were sincere, and for a moment, Momo's heart slowed.

"Thank you," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "You look... different."

You chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension. "Yeah, I do. It feels weird but... good."

You stood still. Just there, awkward and unsure, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. Anyone passing by could tell there was something between you two, although not able to put their finger on it. Not any more than you could. But you tried; to find a way to move forward without letting your emotions get in the way of the night's success.

"I think we should... talk maybe," You said, your voice dropping to a low, almost hesitant tone.

Thankfully Momo nodded, wanting nothing more. Until she remembered where she was. "Yeah, we do. But maybe not here. Later?"

"Later," you agreed, relief evident in your eyes. "For now, let's focus on tonight."

"Agreed," she said, her resolve strengthening. "Let's give them a night to remember."

—

The banquet was in full swing, and Momo couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she watched the guests enjoy the evening. After her brief but intense interaction with you, she’d thrown herself full swing into hosting, greeting the most important guests warmly and ensuring everything was running smoothly. She could see you, now dressed in the official Hirai colors, making your rounds with the staff in the kitchen through the glass doors.

She liked the sight. Enjoyed it even.

As the main courses began to be served, Momo took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the room. Everything seemed perfect, but she knew better than to let her guard down, and just as she was about to step back into the fray, one of the staff members approached her, looking visibly distressed.

"Ms. Hirai, we have a problem in the kitchen," the staff member whispered urgently, causing a surge of anxiety within her.

“What kind of problem?”

"The main course... there's an issue with the meat—well, it’s more the ovens not working properly—but we don't have enough time to fix it without some quick thinking."

Momo's heart picked up the pace again. This could ruin the entire evening.

Without a second thought, she hurried towards the kitchen, her mind racing with solutions. As she entered, she found you there, looking equally concerned.

“Y/n,” she called out, catching your attention. “We have a problem.”

The tension between you both flared up instantly, old arguments resurfacing in the heat of the moment. You tried to stay focused, but her presence was both a distraction and a relief. You were stressed, and seeing her only added to the pressure.

Momo crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What's going on? Why wasn't I informed earlier?"

Your jaw tightened, trying to keep your frustration in check. "It's under control. We have a backup plan. I'm using the emergency meat, but we need to cook it quickly and differently."

"Good," she said, biting back her irritation. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

You paused, debating on teasing her about stepping in, but it wasn't the time nor place. "Can you go around and make sure everyone is on time? Report back to me if there's any issue."

She nodded, her gaze softening slightly. "Got it."

As she moved through the kitchen, checking on the staff and ensuring everyone was on schedule, she couldn't help but notice the tension in your posture. Despite the pressure, you remained in control, your hands moving with precision as you prepped the backup meat. She saw the way your brows furrowed, the way you bit your lip in concentration. It struck her how much you actually cared, how deeply invested you were in all this.

When she returned to you, she gave a quick update. "Everyone's on track. No issues so far."

"Good," you replied, a brief moment of relief flashing in your eyes before the stress settled back in. "Thank you."

Momo only nodded. She wanted to say more, to ease your tension, but the words wouldn't come. So she just took a step back, intending to head back out when her eyes caught sight of a pile of uncut vegetables next to you.

"Is anyone on these?" she asked, motioning to the vegetables.

You cussed under your breath at the sight of them, wiping the sweat from your forehead. The meat chaos had messed with your train of thoughts... "Damn it, no. I completely forgot."

Momo stepped closer, pushing her sleeves up. "Relax. I'll handle it."

"What—Are you sure?"

You would question the move, but the help she was offering was too precious.

Momo nodded, already reaching for a knife. "Yeah. How do you want them cut?"

The way she proceeded to handle that knife shouldn’t have been a surprise. She did belong to a respectable culinary lineage, but seeing her in action was something else entirely.

You felt a strange sense of relief wash over you as you witnessed her skills from the corner of your eye. The fact that she was actually helping you made the situation feel a little less overwhelming.

The two of you worked side by side, and you could feel the tension easing up its hold onto the two of you as the minutes passed.

It was suddenly easier to breathe.

—

Much later in the night than you’d have liked, you stood outside the restaurant, the air of the night cool against your skin as you savored the last drags of your cigarette.

The streets were calm, the occasional hum of traffic in the distance adding a weirdly soothing track to the end of it all.

The banquet, everything had finally come to an end, and successfully, but the lingering thoughts of Momo and your unresolved tension clouded your mind.

You mindlessly watched as the guests left one by one, their laughter and chatter fading as they climbed into expensive cars and drove away. The soft glow of taillights disappeared around corners, leaving the street empty and silent every time.

You exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the dark sky above.

Sure, that little moment in the kitchen earlier was nice, but… There was still a lot to work through.

A familiar sound of stilettos against the rough concrete pulled your eyes off and away from some sweet looking Mercedes. It didn’t compete with the sight you knew was awaiting

Momo stepped outside and startled you with a soft, “You smoke too much.”

You looked over, a faint smile on your lips. “Well, I’m trying to quit, but I deserve this one.”

She chuckled, taking a seat beside you. You watched her, feeling bad for the expensive suit you’d eyed any chance you got. All night. “You’ll mess your pretty clothes up,” you said, stubbing out the cigarette.

“Who cares,” she brushed off. “Night’s over anyway.”

You nodded. Couldn’t argue with that. “Congratulations, by the way. Was your mom proud?”

Momo smiled at the recent memory of her parents congratulating and thanking her for her hard work. “Yeah, they both were.”

You eyed her fingers as they fiddled with each other. It made you smile, how no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to hide that shy part of her.

“Was the outfit supposed to be a statement?” you asked, and she shuffled, telling you it might have been. It amused you. “You shouldn’t have. Did it shake you up that much?” You smirked as though you hadn’t gone to cry about it to Jeongyeon.

“About that night…” she trailed off, silently hoping you’d take the reins.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell your suitors.” You shrugged, half-jokingly.

A small, playful but sincere gesture that slapped Momo in the face. She had completely forgotten about her little side quest with the pressure of the past few days. And also because you’ve been the only thing on her heart’s mind since your kiss. Before stepping out to join you, she even cut things off with Jihyo through a text, thinking it was finally the end of it all. She’d forgotten about all the other ones.

“Oh.” She managed to say after slowing her thoughts down. “Thanks.”

“No problem…”

A few long and awkward seconds passed.

“Wait, are you gonna carry on with those?”

Momo pursed her lips, thinking. “I don’t know.”

She really had no idea. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to quit the company anymore. Until her dad told her he’d slowly been warming up to her decision as he left moments ago, she forgot this was her last project.

It was great news, yeah, if it weren’t for one little detail you helped her realise a little too late.

She didn’t want it to be.

Momo cleared her throat, her lips opening and closing a few times before managing to get the words out. “Are you going to stick around?” she tentatively asked.

You shrugged, playing it cool although you had a feeling her question meant good news. Hopefully in both professional and personal parts of your life. “If you want me to.”

Momo grinned, “I wouldn’t mind.”

You nodded, suppressing a smile. “Will you?” you asked, and she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Will you stick around too? Or are you quitting and leaving the country to become a dance teacher on the other side of the world?”

“How do you know I dance?” She laughed.

“You’re a public figure, Momo. Investments make headlines, especially the heartfelt ones,” you reminded, referring to the time she donated a generous amount to her old dance school in need.

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“Not really. Just news stuff.”

“Right.” You felt her eyes on you, rightfully suspicious. Another silence settled, although this one was a little less awkward and shorter. “Have you always wanted to be a chef?”

You simply nodded at the question, not wanting to dull the moment with details. “Thank you for the opportunity by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you, how rude of me.”

“You’re welcome,” she chuckled. “You deserved it. A lot of guests asked me to send their compliments to the chef.”

Her nudge to your ribs made you pull away instinctively, the sudden contact sending a rush of warmth to your chest. You looked down, hiding your smile as your mind rewound back to your first meeting. “You never called me chef, by the way.”

“And I never will,” she said assuredly, making you chuckle. It was all you could do for now with your focus on her hand fiddling with your own, watching as she intertwined her fingers with yours, the other caressing the exposed and sketched skin of your forearm.

She sure had gotten comfortable. The way she leaned into you, her touch becoming more familiar and assured... You wondered where it came from for a second before remembering how bad of a job you were doing at hiding the effect she had on you so far.

Well, if that’s what it got you…

“Bet on that?” You teased. A little provocation, for grounding purposes.

Momo just nodded though, still assured, and it made you even more curious about what she had in mind for her to be. “Why not?” you probed.

She only smiled, observing your features long enough to make you blush in the night. She inched her face closer to yours, her hand squeezing around yours. It felt only natural for you to lean in, and the nose scrunch she did was new, but the grin that came with it had you guessing it was a good thing. She couldn’t help but giggle as you leaned in, and you almost forgot what had pushed you so close until she spoke up.

“I’ll call you much better, and more flattering things than ‘chef’… darling,” she whispered.

You folded immediately, and this time, you were the one that kissed her. This one was much sweeter, softer. Flavors from the night dancing on your lips, teasing the ones on your tongues. Dessert and smoke, a blend of sweetness and bitterness that felt just right.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, you felt her lips turn into a smirk against yours.. “Doesn't mean we’re done arguing, though.”

“It doesn't?”

She shook her head, her free hand reaching for a displaced lock of your hair. “Not until you quit smoking.”

“I told you I’m already trying to.”

“I know, but I also happen to think you look hot doing it.”

“Can’t wait to fight about me being hot then.”

———

epilogue if you want

@cry4mina thank you for supportively bullying me to finish this i hope you liked it

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 33 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

As it turns out, the Underworld provides a whole slew of services designed to deal with circumstances just like this. Medical care, emergency home repair–and body disposal, all for the price of a handful of gold coins.

You sit with John as a man your lover so descriptively calls Doc sews up Wick’s wounds. There is blood on your face, and your silk pjs. Dog sits on your foot, clearly anxious about letting either one of you out of his sight. In the same spirit, John’s good hand is clasped in yours, or yours in his–neither of you have been able to let go. 

Another man known simply as Charlie orchestrates the removal of the collection of corpses through the house. Yet more tattooed tradesmen work on boarding up the blown out window in the kitchen with a big piece of plywood. 

It’s a miracle, really, the house didn’t burn down. 

“Thought you’d left all this behind you, John?” asks Doc, making a neat knot in the former assassin’s side. 

“So did I.”

“What will you do?”

“The same thing I always do when I’m lost. Talk to Winston.” 

The two men share a snort of laughter you don’t entirely understand. 

When Doc finishes with John he gives you a bottle of pain meds, and a bottle of what are, as far as you can tell, pharmacy grade amphetamines. “In case he has to work again.” You take them with wide eyes and a nod, praying to whatever devil might be listening that that won’t be necessary. 

You’re fairly certain that no one up above is interested in any of you anymore. 

You killed a man. 

You killed a man with a gun to save John, and you do not feel sorry at all. 

Numb, perhaps, but not sorry. 

John groans as he adjusts himself on the couch. You reach out to steady him, helping him best you can. He is heavy, and you look at the stairs with doubt. “Maybe we should sleep down here tonight?”

He blinks at you, undoubtedly thinking you incredibly naïve. “We can’t stay here, baby. It’s not safe.”

“Where will we go?” 

“We’re going to the city,” says John, sounding weary as a man twice his age. “I know a place. Can you drive?”

You have to admit you’re a little dizzy from the whiplash. In the span of a few hours, you’ve gone from being locked up like a princess in the castle, to murdering a man, and now John is going to let you drive?

He must read the blatant surprise on your face. He doesn’t like it, his grip tightening on your hand. “These are bad, bad men who would eat you for breakfast. You’ve got to stick with me.” 

You bristle at this, because even though you absolutely should be thinking about escape? You’re not. You were thinking about how you were going to manage taking care of him in this state, and it pisses you off that he’s still so fucking worried about controlling you that he can’t see the writing written in blood on the wall. 

Or at least, written in blood, on the kitchen floor. 

“You asshole,” you say for the second time tonight. It wins you a lordly scowl that for some fucked up reason thrills you to the tips of your toes. But it’s too late to turn back now. “Were you there, when I fucking shot a man for you? Maybe this is just business as usual for you, but it’s fucking new to me.”

He clenches his other fist on his knee, seeming to count to ten with his eyes closed. “I’m sorry,” he finally grinds out. “I know…Are you alright?”

You guess that you put up a good enough front that he forgot that maybe he should ask. Good on you. Maybe.

“No, not really,” you answer truthfully. “But I don’t have any choice, do I?”

He actually has the grace to cast his eyes down, seeming to really think on what you’re saying. “You had a choice,” he muses quietly, his thumb sliding over your knuckles. “In the kitchen.”

You stroke Dog’s head for something to do with your other hand, which is shaking. Your thundering heart beats painfully in your chest. From the corner of your eye you take in this anomaly of a man. This man, who kidnapped you, who has been playing mental games with you for months, who has kept you prisoner, who has taken your body to heights you never even knew were possible, who has spoiled you, who has adored you and degraded you all in the same breath–this man, who somehow, you know you love with your whole heart. 

“John…” He tilts his head to look at you, his eyes glazed with pain. You’re not sure if it’s physical or mental at this point. “Did you really think I could shoot you?”

Perhaps he did, because in his mind, the only acceptable answer to a wrong against you is murder. 

Perhaps in the brutal world he’s occupied since he was just a child, it is. 

Suddenly he can’t meet your eyes. “Maybe I would deserve it, y/n.”

The fact that he knows that is definitely a good sign. 

But the tricky truth is–it wasn’t all bad. And the good? The good was almost worth the bad, you dare to think now that you’ve survived it. You know better than to say that, because you know you are in the midst of a negotiation right now.

“I love our life together, when you’re sweet to me, John. I only want to murder you when you boss me around. And I only mean that figuratively.”

A huff of laughter escapes him; there is a glimmer of hope in his miserable dark eyes. You know it’s insane, after everything he’s done, but you feel sorry for this man. 

“If you would just treat me as an equal, instead of constantly trying to control me…” I’ll be your ride or die. You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud yet. He already has enough power over you. “Do you think…that’s something we can work on?”

He could have pushed you over with a feather, when slowly he nods, bringing your knuckles to his lips to kiss them. “If you don’t want to murder me after everything I’ve done to you…maybe anything is possible.”

You on the other hand, can only blink. Did you just hear what you think you heard? 

That blood-pressure induced ringing has returned to your ears again. The explosion and gunfire surely didn’t help, but somehow this is far more momentous to you. Your surprise for the magnitude of this admission surprises you, and you must show it in the lift of your brows. It makes him smile ruefully; you’re not sure why the sight of it squeezes your heart so. 

You are not so stupid as to think this traumatic event has healed him miraculously, knocked some loose screw back into place. The mind doesn’t work like that. But just maybe, it did put some things into perspective. You are allies now against a mutual cause, rather than enemies of each other. And just maybe, when you tell him that you don’t want to leave him, he will actually believe you from now on. 

“Anyway…I can drive the Rover…” you say with confidence, even though you are still utterly flabbergasted he’d even give you the opportunity. “I don’t know about the ‘Stang.” The Mustang you think you could manage in an emergency, but it’s been a long time since you had to drive a stick, and being responsible for his baby doesn’t sit well with you. 

“That will do.” He grumbles, mostly to himself, “I’ve got to teach you to drive. There is so much I need to teach you.”

You’re not sure what he means by that. You are too tired to hash it out completely right now, but you sense that something, a whole lot of something, has changed in the past few hours between you.  

He makes to get to his feet with a groan–and can’t quite. “Maybe I am too old for this shit,” he grouses. 

“John, you got shot, stabbed, and fought off ten heavily armed assassins. I think you can count tonight as a win.”

Again, that bitter huff of laughter escapes him. You help John to his feet, trying to steady him as best you can. If he’d injured one of his legs badly you would be so fucked; there was no way you could carry him.

“Um…who were they?” You realize you haven’t even talked about who was just trying to kill him. You suppose you already think you know the answer, but then again you could be wrong.

“Camorra goons, I’m pretty sure,” hisses John, clearly in pain. “Guess I should have kept someone alive for questioning…I’ve always been bad at that.”

You press your lips, because it shouldn’t be funny…but if you don’t laugh about it, you might cry. Your life has been so weird lately, it almost just seems par for the course in a way. 

“John…” you chortle and sigh. “Surely the d’Antonio kid gets the picture now? You’ve killed everyone he’s sent after you? Why can’t these assholes just leave you alone?” Why the prince of the Camorra would court such trouble is beyond you. 

“Good question.” He groans as he takes a step, his good arm slung over your shoulder. “The young ones, especially the second or third generation, think they have to prove themselves. Or maybe…he loved his mother and wants me dead. It’s a faint possibility.” 

“Italian boys and their mothers.” 

John chuckles a little, then winces. “Please, sweetheart,” he entreats you. “Don’t make me laugh.” 

Maybe you are a silly creature, but hearing the endearment for you warms something in your heart that had been left out in the cold for too long. “Fine,” you agree, even though humor is absolutely your biggest coping mechanism. “Tell me what we need to do next?” 

“We need to pack.”

“Ok. What?”

“Suits, and guns.” 

You guess in a nutshell, that was the essential distillation of his world, once upon a time. Now, quite against your will, you both are being kicked back into it. By the look in John’s dark eyes, for some reason you have a feeling it’s the Camorra who are going to regret it. 

[sideysvault]

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖ HC’s of Deadpool having a vamp!partner ˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔

Pairing: Wade Wilson x gn!Reader

Established relationship

Warnings: Minors dni. Mentions of some disturbing themes (in a joking manner)

────────

• Wade Wilson loves having a partner that is not at all phased by blood or violence. He also loves that you don’t see those things as an integral part of who he is. (Or at least, his only characteristic)  

• You two would absolutely engage in some kinky sex. (Wade would even insist you should eat tiny bits of his flesh so you guys could be together forever. At the end of the day, he could regenerate in no time) . But for their partner, that would be taking it a bit too far. Even for a vampire. 

• “I wish I had a super sexy tight cunt so you could drink from me every month. Wouldn’t that be so cool?”

• “Wade…” 

• “Does this technically count as necrophilia?” 

• “Wade!?” 

• You two would bond over the fact that you are a tad bit removed from the usual aspects of human experience. Pool has never felt the comfort of being truly known. Being able to relate to their partner and be understood with no judgment is priceless to him. Even if he doesn’t always admit it.  

• At first, he would be shy about showing you his face without the mask. However, you assure him that you have truly seen it all. You are not easily impressed. When he finally feels comfortable enough to do it, your eyes tear up a bit. If it’s possible, you think you might love him even more than before. 

• “I just think it’s super sad that you aren’t able to see yourself in a mirror. You are smoking hot, babe”

• “That’s not really how it works. But thank you. I guess”

• His partner would occasionally join on his missions

• When you stayed home and Pool came back from a particularly tough day, you’d always make sure to patch him up. Even if it was make-believe. Even if it wasn’t really that necessary with his powers. But you knew how much physical contact and normalcy could help someone like you two. So you took care of Wade. Every. Time. It makes him feel human. And you completely adored him. 

• “Honey, I need to ask a question. It’s serious” 

• “Are you going to say something stupid?”

• “How dare you?! I’m so hurt right now…”

• “Ok, Pool. Spill it”

• “Do you know Count Dracula?” 

• “…” 

Notes: Hello beautiful anon! Thank you so much for being my first request. I’ll love you forever. As always feedback is welcome. I hope I did some justice to your request! Idk much about vampire characters (I’m sorry). xox - Sidey

Based on this request.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

You're Not Alone (pt 2)

And here is the requested part 2 of vampire spawn!Tav/reader! I'm pretty sure I injected more fluff into this one after the very dark part 1.

Taglist (I guess I could do one in the future): @silverfangmarks @astarioffsimpmain

Summary: You and Astarion deal with the aftermath that is you being turned into a vampire spawn.

After the events of Cazador’s palace, the group quietly head back to the inn, covered in blood and downcast. Astarion keeps his distance from your limp body gently cradled by Halsin, gaze fixed on the ground and disappears the moment the party reaches the inn.

“Where is the vampire spawn going?” Lae’zel hisses. “He is the reason why Y/N is like this, he should be here.”

“Leave him be, Lae’zel. He’s taken the events hard, give him some space for now.” Halsin chides, setting you down on a bed. Your physical injuries can be easily healed with some blood, fortunately Cazador hadn’t gotten far with his poem before the party had crashed the ritual so your scars wouldn’t be as bad as Astarion’s but the main issue is the emotional scarring. Halsin had hoped Astarion would remain by your side so that when you woke up, he could help you but the vampire had gone off by himself and Halsin wasn’t sure when he’d return.

The druid slices open a wound on his wrist and lets the blood drip into your slightly ajar mouth. Your throat bobs instinctively, swallowing the precious fluid but your eyes remain close. At least you’re drinking the blood, that was enough at this stage. He continues letting his blood drip into your mouth until your eyelids flutter and you stir slightly.

“Y/N.” He says. You groan in response, eyes opening blearily.

This place smelled different, looked different. You were in a different place, where were you? You shoot up, eyes wide and muscles tensed, ready to fight. A quick glance around the place told you you were in a room of sorts and the only other person around was Halsin.

“Where am I?” You croak. Your body felt cold, sore and you wanted nothing more than to fall into a deep slumber.

“You’re at Elfsong Tavern’s Inn. Don’t worry, you’re safe now. Cazador is gone, he can’t harm you anymore,” Halsin reassures you, but keeps a distance away to give you some space. You press a hand to your head as memories come rushing back to you. Astarion’s siblings coming for him, you defending him, Cazador appearing and kidnapping you, Astarion’s cry for you, Cazador using you as Astarion’s substitute in the ritual, the pain that followed, the others rescuing you, Astarion holding you tightly in his arms, comforting you…

'“Astarion,” you whisper, “where…”

“He’ll be back soon,” Halsin says, but you can tell he’s lying.

“You don’t know!” You snap accusingly, “stop lying! Where did he go?”

“Calm down, Y/N. After we brought you back, Astarion left for somewhere, although none of us know where or how long he will be gone. He still hasn’t returned.” Halsin raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t want to worry you after all you’ve just been through.”

“It’s just that simple! Just tell me! Like that!” You snarl, fangs bared. Halsin leans away so that your fangs are far enough from him and you realise what you’ve just done.

“I’m sorry. It’s not even your fault.” You sit back down on the bed, shoulders hunched. “Everything’s been so…much.”

Halsin shakes his head, “it’s quite alright. You have a lot to adjust to, with your new…condition.”

“At least the tadpole still lets me walk in the sun,” you give a hollow laugh, “if Astarion’s ability to do so is anything to go by.”

You smile sadly at the bed beneath you. “Things can never go back to the way it was, and I was so looking forward to doing so many things once we had our tadpoles removed too.”

Halsin remains quiet and you sit there in the silence with him, tears sliding down your cold cheeks. You curl up, hugging your knees to your chest, causing tears to stain your kneecaps. The warmth you once had is all gone now, replaced by a chill that reminds you of what you have lost, of what you once had.

“Are you still hungry?” Halsin quietly breaks the silence, extending his wrist towards you. You shake your head despite the sanguine hunger gnawing at you, afraid of what the act of feeding solidifies.

“Then I will take my leave first. Call me if you need anything.” The druid rises from the stool, sending you a look of concern but leaves you with your thoughts.

You stare at your hands, your cold undead hands and bite your lip. Your new fangs pierce through skin with ease, drawing a little blood and your nostrils flare instinctively at the scent. The sanguine hunger roars again, louder this time. It craves blood, it demands blood but you force it down as far as it can go. You hate it, you hate your new condition. You hate the thought that once your tadpole has been removed, you’ll never be able to enjoy the sun again, feel its warmth. You finally truly understand why Astarion had been so adamant about ascending, the temptation to do the same is strong.

Suddenly, a new scent floods your nose.

“Who’s there?” You call, glaring in the direction of the scent. Astarion steps into view, smiling a little too widely — a sign that he was nervous.

“You’re awake, darling. That’s good.” He moves to sit on your bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve just been turned into a vampire spawn?” He flinches at your words and you wish you could take them back.

“Sorry.” You mutter. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

Astarion quietly looks down, fidgeting. The silence between the two of you isn’t the comfortable kind, the tension in the air waiting for one of you to cut it so you decide to take the initiative.

“What’s it like, being a vampire spawn. Is there anything I have to take note of?”

“It’s…something that takes time to get used to.” Astarion murmurs.

“Well, good thing I have you to guide me, don’t I?” You smile, reaching over to take his hand in yours. Both your hands are cold now, freezing to the touch, reminding Astarion of one more thing he has lost to Cazador.

“Even when permanently dead he still haunts me,” Astarion mutters, squeezing your hand tightly. “How badly did he scar you?”

The concern in his ruby red eyes is genuine, a softness you’ve missed filling the crimson orbs. You turn around despite everything in your body screaming at you not to, feeling yourself shake as you slip your top off, flashes of memories you’d rather keep buried burning through your mind. Astarion suppresses the angry growl that threatens to spill from his throat, hatred for Cazador burning once more and wishes he could drag the vampire lord from wherever dead vampires went just so he could make Cazador pay with pain a million times worse than yours.

You swallow as bile rises to your throat, the overwhelming scent of your blood filling your nose, screams of pain flooding your mind, then the scent you’ve saved as Astarion’s fills your nose as he wraps his arms around you, whispers of love falling from his lips.

“It’s alright darling, I’ve got you. I promise you’re safe. Focus on my voice, breathe together with me.” He whispers into your ear. “In…out…in…out…”

Through the haze, you struggle to regain control of your body, tears blurring your vision once more but with Astarion’s help, you find a breathing rhythm and grasp tightly onto it.

In, out. In, out.

When the room shifts back into focus, you realise that the scent of your blood wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. Long claw marks decorate your arms, your clawed fingertips stained crimson while the sheets beneath soak up whatever has dripped onto it.

“Shit, I’m a mess,” you whimper.

“Everyone is,” Astarion reassures you, pulling a bottle out. “Here, you’ll need to drink this. All of it. Don’t leave a single drop.”

The sweet scent of blood fills the air as he uncorks the bottle and your hunger growls, eager to lap it all up but you push his hand and the bottle away. “I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Astarion scowls. “I’m not going to let you starve yourself to death, trust me, you do not want to be starving as a vampire. It’s worse than death.”

“I don’t want to drink another person’s blood,” you croak weakly. The very thought of doing so makes you want to vomit, but your body says otherwise.

“It’s bear blood. I went out to hunt and came across a bear,” Astarion swirls the bottle. “I promise I’m not lying.”

You cautiously take the bottle from him, lifting it up to your lips. You have to trust him on this, it’s not like you know how bear blood smells like as a vampire. Locking gazes with him, you tilt the bottle, letting the sweet liquid wash down your throat. Strange new flavours burst in your mouth but it’s a pleasant taste and sends a tingle down your spine. Soon, you’re greedily sucking the bottle dry until there is not a drop left.

“There, not so bad, is it?” Astarion leans in to give you a peck on your cheek. “Now, your instincts should help but this is the best place to drink from on a wrist.”

He points to a spot on his wrist and lifts it up to your lips, “give it a try.”

You eye him warily and he sighs at your reluctance, “I can’t keep giving you bottles of blood to drink from, love. You’re going to need to learn how to feed yourself.”

“But I don’t want to,” you mumble. Astarion frowns but doesn’t push the matter further, instead he reaches for the medical kit Halsin has left behind and starts to clean up the dried blood on your arms. You let him, silently watching as the cloth starts to turn brown.

“There, all beautiful and blemish-free again,” he presses kisses along the length of both your arms, tossing the cloth aside. “Being…this doesn’t change anything about you, love. You’re still the same person, and that is more than enough for me.”

He cups your cheeks, letting his thumbs run over the skin of your cheeks. Leaning in, he presses his forehead against yours and feels you wrap your arms around him. With a small smile, he pulls you in, feeling your head rest on his shoulder as he embraces you tightly, breathing in your new scent. One of his hands gently rests on the back of your head, fingers running through your matted hair.

“You’re not alone. I’ll always be here for you, right by your side whenever you need me. That I promise. I won’t let you go through what I went through, I won’t let you be alone in this.” He swears, holding you tightly. “We’ll face this together, side by side.”

You clutch desperately at his tunic, crying for what feels like the millionth time today into his chest and he lets you, ignoring the way your tears dampen and stain his clothes. Instead, he curls around you, wishing he could shield you from the world and the suffering he knows is to come and cherishes the way you cling onto him, the way you so clearly trust him with everything you have. No one had ever bared their soul like this to him, even all his prey had always kept a thing or two from him, no matter how sweet the lies he used to ensnare them.

You were different. You had let your walls down around him, bared your sweet neck at him, let him drink the first night he had tried drinking your blood instead of staking him on the spot and in return he had fallen for you. He let you have his back, let you into the shattered pieces he called his heart and let you see his broken self, hoping it wouldn’t scare you off and it hadn’t. Now you were the broken one and you had let him see it all, returning the favour was only natural but it wasn’t the only reaosn he was doing all this. He wanted to help you without needing anything in return, he wanted to see you smile again, he wanted to…he wanted to show you how much he truly loved you.

He had changed, that much he knew. It wasn’t long ago when he’d have chosen to ascend no matter the cost, but that night when he had seen you bound by glyphs with Infernal being carved into your back, all he could think about was how if he ascended you would be sacrificed too. He couldn’t bring himself to do that, he couldn’t sacrifice you no matter what he would gain in return.

He wouldn’t have needed to consider that if you hadn’t been turned into a vampire spawn.

Years of self-hatred gnaw away at him, reminding him of his failure, hisweakness that had led to this whole mess. If only he had been stronger, faster, better, then maybe you wouldn’t have to suffer his fate, the fate of a vampire spawn. His thoughts tear into him again and again, berating him, a whirling wind of destruction that threaten to unravel him. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes, fighting the darkness that threatens to drown him. He doesn’t have time for this, he has to help you adjust, to be there whenever you’re drowning and he can’t do that if he’s wallowing in self-deprecation. Those damned thoughts can wait another day.

A quick glance down lets him know you’ve fallen asleep in his arms, worn out from recent events and he lets out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I meant everything I said, my love,” he says, knowing you can’t hear his words but that’s fine by him. He doesn’t want you to hear his next words anyways. “I love you.”

[billy-cockblock]

SWTD Theory

Still Wakes the Deep has been a huge brainworm for me the past few weeks, so I wanted to make a post with one of my takes. Someone’s probably thought of this already, but I can’t find anything about it, so here I go. 

I’m gonna take this time to shout out a little sub theory of mine that plays a bit of a part in my main point. 

For a little background, in populations of organisms, there are limiting factors on their growth and spread. Think of it as a series of funnels of different sizes: the rate of liquid that can flow through is going to be determined by the narrowest funnel. For example. if there’s a population that has ample food, space, and whatever else it needs, but has a restricted access to water, that water is going to limit how large that population could grow.

Before the Shape was dug up by the drill, it was probably dormant in the sea bed, doing its best to survive, the same as any other organism. Down where it was dark, wet, and cold, I think it had one main limiting factor: oxygen.

I don’t think the Shape can efficiently exchange gas underwater. Most of the untouched bodies Caz sees are only underwater, where an organism that thrives in air would struggle to access. Once it gets dug up and brought to air with plenty of organic matter to consume and grow with, its population explodes. When a limiting factor is removed, there’s nothing holding the population back any more until they hit a new limit. The Shape’s old limiting factor was removed, and it would only stop reproducing by running out of space to grow on the rig, running out of organic matter to use, or being killed (like, say, in a giant fiery explosion).

(I could go on and on about how the Shape potentially works, please feel free to ask me about it)

Now, I’ll get to my main theory:

I think Caz was dead the whole time.

Now, I don’t mean that in a “the whole game is in his head, none of it was real” way; I mean it in a “this man got Ethan Winters’ed” way. 

So, I started to do a little research into how tall oil rigs are to know how far Caz would have fallen off the helipad. I quickly learned there are many types of oil rigs and not every oil rig of the same type is the same size. I’m studying marine biology, not petroleum engineering like my brother, so I got tired of trying to guesstimate how tall the Bierra D’s helipad would be and attacked the problem with some simple math. 

Watching a video, I saw he fell for between 4-5 seconds; the acceleration due to gravity is 9.8m/s^2. Plugging that in a calculator while not accounting for air resistance to solve for distance gets me ~80-120m, depending on if I used the 4 or 5 second count, so I’ll guess around 100m. I’ve found many conflicting sources on what the tallest heights you can safely fall into water are, but I can safely tell you that 100m is much higher than any of them. 

Now, maybe the devs weren’t going with the mathematical exact timing it would take for a guy to fall off an oil rig, and didn’t mean for it to be implied that he fell from THAT high. Still, we can agree he fell from very high up, high enough to have likely ended in injury. Maybe he’d just fall on and break a leg? Maybe an arm or some ribs?

After falling off the rig, the last frame before Caz blacks out shows the water at the top of the screen, meaning he hits the water head-first. He may be wearing a hard hat (that somehow stays on his head through the whole ordeal since he clips his flashlight to it), but he still should have cracked his skull open or broken his neck. 

When they pull him out of the water, he’s cold and not breathing, which wouldn’t be unusual for a drowning victim in the North Sea in the dead of winter, but it would usually be a death sentence. They never explain how they dragged Caz out of the water, but it would presumably have taken a long time to get him out, and time is key when dealing with someone who isn’t breathing. The fact that he’s able to cough up water and start breathing on his own is a miracle, since it doesn’t sound like Brodie or Douglas do CPR when they bring him inside.

So, fall damage, head and/or spine injury, drowning, and hypothermia. By several different factors, Caz should be a very, very dead man. So why isn’t he?

My theory is that, somehow, somewhy, the infection from The Shape healed and brought him back to life. We know for a fact it has amazing generative properties, basically able to double, triple, quadruple the amount of tissue and organic matter in the crew’s bodies with no regard for conservation of mass, so what’s just a little regeneration of damaged tissues in a single body? Once Caz’s body gets someplace with better conditions suited to life (inside where it’s warm and there’s air), it just jumpstarts his body functions. The Shape’s presumably been dormant in the seafloor for a long time, so it could be able to go dormant and kinda “come back to life” as conditions change, similar to a tardigrade, and potentially pass this ability onto its hosts.

And Caz mentions how his head hurts a lot, especially when he gets close to the Shape. 

Now, this might seem like baseless conjecture, and y’all might say “That’s a good headcanon, but there’s no evidence that The Shape could bring people back to life!” to which I would say “Oh, but there might be!"

After the helicopter on the starboard side, we get a call from Bruce, who is actively drowning. Through his gasps, he tells us that O’Connor hurt his leg and couldn’t swim, presumably drowning. And guess who we see still kicking as we’re passing through the pontoon? My thought is that O’Connor couldn’t swim, drowned, and drifted to the bottom, landing on a part of the shape. Once Caz and Brodie start working in the legs and they drain, it exposes him to air and allows the shape to start growing again, assimilating him and bringing him back to life. 

Obviously, he’s not doing as well as Caz is. My thought was that, if Caz died as he was infected, the infection would’ve had to put a lot of its energy into bringing him back, not leaving much for itself to begin assimilating him into the Shape. Since O’Connor was in direct contact with the Shape, it could hook him up to its network to help supplement that loss. Caz, meanwhile, stays as far away from the stuff as he can and doesn’t even get anything to eat all day; guy's running on empty. He has small things where the Shape affects him, like the colors at the edge of his vision, but most of his hallucinations only happen after the Shape attacks him through O’Connor. Before, I’m pretty sure the largest incident (other than when he’s blacked out) is when we can barely hear Suze’s voice over the speakers when moving through the pontoon. It’s really only after getting attacked that he starts to hear her when he’s awake, near the Shape, or over phone calls. He only hears her clearly over the speakers in administration after he runs into the shape many times when he gets swept away in the flooding.

With my main evidence out of the way, I’ll also mention that Caz sees the “light at the end of the tunnel” from the end of the game in the oil flashes when he blacks out.

But hey, that’s just a theory. 

A GAME TH- I have received a cease and desist.

Man, this became a long read. Thanks for getting this far, and I hope you enjoyed!

[mixelation]

here have some (a)synchronicity

i skipped to them getting together. as a recap: tori ends up in an iwa prison camp and gets left behind after an escape by konoha ninja. the iwa commander there is..... less than pleased

content warning for torture i guess? it doesn't progress super far, but there are threats of sexual violence

*****

“I’m wondering,” Ishi said, pacing in front of her in tight circles like a lion before his prey, “what a suitable punishment would be?”

Tori kept her eyes glued on his sandals as he paced. It was better to just let megalomaniac ninja get their little speeches out of their system, she’d found, and then just agree with whatever insane things they were saying.

“We could cut your fingers off one by one,” Ishi offered. “Or hang you upside down and wait for your own organs to suffocate you. Or should I give you to my troops for the night?”

They’d thrown down hay all over the tent floor to prevent mud. Tori wondered how ninja avoided getting pieces of it in their toes with sandals like that.

The sandals turned toward her suddenly, and Ishi grabbed her face by one hand, his digging into her cheeks as he angled her face upward to look at him. 

“I asked you a question,” he said, voice hard. “What should your punishment be?”

Tori didn’t say anything at first, and his grip tightened. There was a glint of metal out of the corner of her vision. 

“You could still answer my questions blinded,” Ishi said. 

Well. That would suck. He wasn’t just going to let her yessir her way out of this. 

“Personally,” Tori said, “I’m a big fan of Water Country rat torture. Have you heard of it? It’s where you starve a bunch of rats—”

He let go of her face and slapped her with his other hand. It was hard enough she saw black spots and was knocked clean off her feet and into the straw. He’d been holding a kunai or something, and it had sliced into her skin. A long line burned with fresh pain from her temple down to her cheek. Tori instinctually raised her hand to touch it, but Ishi yanked her up by the arm and tossed her onto the table. 

He held her down by her head, his thumb pressing into the cut. Tori let out a sad, desperate scream against her will. 

She yanked at his arm, digging her own nails into the fabric of his uniform, desperate to remove his hand. This did not so much as budge him. 

“Hold her legs,” Ishi commanded, and then Tori’s uselessly kicking legs were also held down. “Now,” Ishi continued, “I do think the troops will complain if I cut off your tits.”

Whoever was holding her legs laughed, and Tori felt her face burn in humiliation. 

“But I’ve already ruined your face,” Ishi said, almost conversational. “I don’t think they’ll notice if I do a little more.”

The tool in his hand hadn’t been a kunai afterall. They were some sort of tweezer or forceps, glinting in the lamp light under the flecks of Tori’s own blood. He aimed it at her eye. 

You are going to survive this, Tori told herself, even as she struggled not to cry. This will hurt, but you will live. You can bear this. 

The forceps gripped her eyelashes and then yanked. Tori screamed. He did it again, and then dagged the tips across her temple and asked for other tools. 

“Leave her front teeth in,” someone suggested. 

“She dosn’t need her ears, does she?” someone else said. 

Ishi pulled at her ear lobe with the tweezers, almost thoughtfully. 

“We’ll cut them off in pieces,” he decided. “That will show the little bitch. Scissors.”

Tori watched, panicking, as shadows moved across the tent wall as tools were exchanged. Ishi’s hand on her head remained firm the entire time. She would not be escaping. 

The first cut to her ear never came. Someone rushed into the tent, interrupting it. Konoha was attacking. 

“From which front?” Ishi demanded. His hand came off her head, although the other ninja still held her legs firm. 

“I— we don’t know. It’s like he— he just appeared in the camp.”

No one had bothered to restrain her hands. Tori carefully probed the side of her face with her fingers, and they came away covered in blood. 

“What do you mean he? How many forces? Do you know which clans?”

Tori started tracing fuinjutsu onto the table with her fingers. Something that could be made sloppily and still work… something she knew really, really well and could do blind…

“Sir, it’s… it’s just one man.”

Ishi snarled and marched out of the tent, barking orders. The last words Tori heard from him were, “If it’s just one man, then it’s not an attack, is it?”

All but the ninja holding her legs filed after him. Tori sat up on her elbows and blinked at the remaining ninja. Even with his hands around her ankles, the man had not been paying her a lick of attention, watching as the other Iwa-nin left the tent. 

When they were alone, he finally turned to her and made eye contact. 

Tori activated her seal. He dropped dead. 

Technically, because the chakra disruptor she’s made conducted through her, she also dropped dead. This went as terribly as dying always did: the wind was knocked out of her, and then she went cross-eyed as the Shinigami's thoughts seared into her brain. 

Usually, the Shinigami was hungry, and then disgusted with her like a starving man being served rotting, inedible meat. Today the Shinigami was ecstatic: A thousand souls…. at last satiation… at last, a feast… 

Tori gasped in shock as her body lit up with the fervor of a shark smelling chum. Then it went out of her all at once, and she was alone and plain and normal. Tori rolled onto her side and vomited over the edge of the table. Ah. Gross. The tent spun, but she was alive. 

I hate doing that, she thought as she wiped bile from her lips. A thousand souls…

She got as far as standing up unsteadily when Ishi barged back into the tent, looking significantly more terrified than he had a minute before. His eyes widened further to see her up, his man crumpled over dead at the edge of his table. Tori stared guiltlessly back at him as more ninja flooded in behind him, all in varying states of panic. Weapons were taken off the walls of the tent.  

“Is it the Yellow Flash?” she asked, hopeful. 

There was screaming audible outside now. Loud, horrified screams of trained ninja realizing they were going to lose.

She didn’t know why Minato would come if there were no Konoha prisoners for him to free. Konoha undoubtedly wanted this camp gone, but this seemed like an insanely risky thing to try without a more urgent motivation. Just because Tori knew he was capable of it didn’t mean anyone else on the planet– Minato himself included– did. Maybe he didn’t know they’d escaped?

“You,” Ishi said, some sort of understanding passing over his face. 

Next thing Tori knew, Ishi had one hand balled in her hair and a kunai at her neck. 

Minato strolled into the tent, casual as can be. The whole tent froze. 

“Tori!” he said, eyes brightening when he saw her. His clothes were completely soaked in blood. 

Had he… had he come for her? Tori felt her bottom lip quiver. 

“Ishi-san,” Minato said, his voice hardening and gaze moving up to make eye contact with him. “I was told to negotiate a surrender, but…”

Minato tilted his head and moved his shoulders back, like he was going to stretch. He raised a kunai. Someone threw a shuriken at him, and he disappeared. Tori felt the kunai at her neck start to press into her just slightly more…

And then it was gone. Ishi was gone from her back, and his sudden absence made her stumble. 

“...I don’t really feel like it,” Minato finished, foot on Ishi’s neck. A dozen bodies now scattered the tent. A terrible, quiet stillness filled the air. 

Tori’s eyes stung with unshed tears. She leaned against the table, her head feeling light. 

“Any counterarguments?” Minato asked Ishi. 

“Iwa doesn’t bargain with scum,” Ishi replied, voice garbled only slightly by the foot on his neck. 

Minato just raised his eyebrows. 

“Okay,” he said, and then Ishi had a kunai through his neck. 

Minato turned to her. There were flakes of red in his golden hair and blood splatter across his nose. 

His shoulders sagged in evident relief. 

“Tori!” he repeated, stepping up to her. He held up his hands to indicate no weapons. He grinned at her, and it was like watching the sun rise. “Are you okay? I was worried.”

“Y– yeah,” she replied. She pushed hair out her face, and Minato’s smile dimmed as his eyes traced the line of the gash on her face. “Um… the Konoha prisoners all escaped.”

Minato produced a miraculously mostly-clean handkerchief from his vest. 

“I know,” he said. He carefully tucked hair behind her ear and began to dab around the gash, cleaning blood from her face. “I came to get you.”

Tori let out the world's most pathetic hiccup and began to sob. It wasn’t exactly loud, but once the tears started, she couldn’t make them stop. Her breath turned ragged. It was pathetic and deeply embarrassing, but she felt safe to be embarrassing around Minato. 

“Hey, hey,” Minato said, and he ran his fingers through her hair a few times, picking pieces of straw out. “You’re safe now. No one can hurt you.”

“It’s not that,” Tori said, wiping tears from her eyes. She took a deep breath and willed her voice to be steady. “No one’s… no one’s ever saved me like this before. You came for me?”

“Of course for you,” Minato said, smile broadening. His fingertips lingered on the uninjured side of her face. Tori couldn’t tell if the metallic scent of blood was from her own face or his fingers. “Um, I did kill a lot of people, though. In case that upsets you–”

“I know,” Tori cut him off. Minato had just become the deadliest ninja in history, just for her. She stared into his eyes. He did look happy to see her, and relieved, but also he seemed… nervous?

“I want to hug you,” Minato said carefully. “But I am… very gross right now.”

His uniform had turned brown with blood. He smelled absolutely awful, too. 

“You could kiss me instead,” Tori offered. 

Minato blinked down at her in a way that made her doubt for a second that she’d read the room right. Surely the fifteen or so dead men in the room he’d killed for her, plus the way he was metaphorically wringing his hand like a nervous prom date, meant he was into her?

But then his entire face lit up, the force of his smile making his eyes crinkle up. 

“Okay, yeah,” he said, his hand cupping her chin. “I can manage that without getting blood on you.”

He tilted her head back and leaned over her, very careful that their bodies didn’t meet. It was a very polite, gentlemanly kiss. Tori very carefully put her hands on his chest and… oh god it was wet and sticky and hot from the human bodies it came out of. 

Well, she thought, I’ve done grosser things. 

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and pressed herself fully into him, bloody clothes be damned. Minato let out a happy little moan at the back of his throat, but then pulled his face away from her, even as his arms went around her waist.

“I don’t want to hurt your face injury,” he said. 

“I don’t care,” Tori replied. “I want you.”

She yanked him down by the front of his vest. He complied, his grip on her tightening. Her clothes were damp and sticky where his arms met her body. He walked her back toward the table. 

“Don’t touch the seal,” Tori said, panting as she broke their kiss. It probably wouldn’t work a second time, but if it did… “It’ll kill you.”

“Of course it will,” Minato replied with a laugh. He picked her up by the waist and sat her on the table.

Kissing him did tug painfully at the gash on her face, but it was doing very exciting things to the rest of her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around the back of his shoulders. 

After not nearly enough time making out, Minato broke away again. His eyes were glassy. 

“I do have to do a couple things,” he said, voice rough. “Then we can… continue. Don’t worry. I’ll be fast.” 

He winked. Tori pouted performatively at him. 

“Here,” he said, handing her one of his special marked kunai. “And here.”

He handed her a bottle of ink and a brush. He did not give her any instructions for them; she assumed it was to make her feel safer while he went off to make sure he hadn’t missed anyone in his massacre. 

“Konoha will want the body…” he muttered, turning to Ishi. 

Minato was quick about storing the commander’s body in a scroll, and then he vanished into thin air for roughly seven minutes while Tori sat around in a tent filled with dead people, feeling impatient and unsatisfied. 

She pocketed the fuinjutsu tools and clutched the kunai to her while she pushed the flap of the tent open. It was dusk, and she had full view of literal piles of bodies outside. The camp was unnaturally silent. The ground was muddy with fresh blood. The air smelled metallic, with just the starting hint of putrid rot setting in. 

Deadliest ninja alive… just for her. The thought made her giddy. 

Tori reentered the tent. It was a command station, so it had to have a first aid kit somewhere. 

“That’s smart,” Minato said when he reappeared, and Tori nearly dropped the bottle of rubbing alcohol she was examining. “How do you feel about relocating?”

Right now, Tori would let him take her anywhere, as long as they could be alone. 

He took her to a house, out in the middle of nowhere, near the Fire Country border. One of his old genin teammates had found it on a recent mission. It was recently abandoned, he told her, so it still had running utilities. 

It also had most furniture and kitchen supplies in the combined living area and range, Tori noted. It wasn’t unusual for civilians to decide their safest move during this war was to suddenly leave their homes without settling any of their affairs, but it was also common for ninja to just kill a family and use their house. 

She decided now wasn’t the time to ask clarifying questions and potentially ruin the mood. If ninja had killed whoever lived in this little two bedroom cottage, it probably was Minato or his teammate. Minato obviously had zero issues with killing, but she knew he found harassing or murdering civilians for petty reasons to be distasteful. If Minat wanted to use your house, he’d just smile and tell you to get out. 

Tori was distracted from these thoughts when Minato unzipped his vest and shrugged it off. His shirt underneath was still dark blue, in hilarious contrast to his bloodsoaked sleeves. She let out a laugh as Minato dropped the vest. It made a disgusting squelching noise as it hit the floor. Minato wrinkled his nose at it. 

“I am not looking forward to digging my supplies out of that,” he said. 

The cottage was a cozy little thing, and Tori made Minato put towels down on the furniture before they sat anywhere, excepting the lid of the toilet. She sat there primly while he cleaned the gash on her face for her, and dressed it with butterfly bandages from her stolen medical kit. 

The bathroom was cramped, so they then stepped out of the bathroom into the main bedroom. Tori watched keenly while Minato peeled his disgusting outer shirt and pants off. Underneath he wore mesh armor. 

“Oh gods, the blood even got under it,” he complained, pulling the hem of his shirt away to peer down it, looking forlorn. 

“Are you injured at all?” Tori asked. 

Minato stripped further down to just his underwear, which was enough layers deep to be mostly blood-free, and he seemed surprised to find he did have a few injuries. Tori supposed adrenaline and high speed fights made it difficult to notice. 

Minato could dodge basically anything, but sometimes he did have to take a hit in order to make a blow on an opponent. His shins and forearms were a constellation of minor bruises and burns from hits that dragged his armor against his skin. He had a few nicks on his fingers from his own weapons. 

“Shout out to whoever did that,” he said of a huge bruise on his lower rib cage. 

He identified the shape as probably being from a kick. He did not remember being kicked. 

“It was… kind of a blur,” he said. “I was just focused on getting them out of my way. I don’t remember individuals.”

Tori pulled off her own clothes next. They did, unfortunately, now have brown blood stains exactly where she’d pressed herself up against Minato, including darker stains on the inner thighs of her pants where she’d wrapped her legs around him. 

Tori also had a bunch of bruises from who fucking knew what. Hers were less cool, in her opinion, because at least some of them were from events such as “tripping in the woods.”

“That is a hand,” Minato suddenly said, his own hand coming up to brush his fingers over a bruise on her upper arm. 

“I guess someone grabbed me,” Tori mused. You could see individual finger marks in the bruise. 

Minato frowned. Tori fluttered her eyelashes, and she could feel the difference in weight from where half of one eye’s lashes had been pulled out. She decided she didn’t care right now; Minato was looking at her in a way that made her feel sexy regardless. 

“Are you going to go all overprotective on me?” she asked in her best teasing lilt, only half-joking. It was kind of a dumb, slightly toxic fantasy, but also, consider: it would be hot. 

“Well, whoever did that is almost certainly already dead,” Minato replied dryly. “So I think it would be a moot point.”

His hand skimmed down her arm and then wrapped around her wrist. His touch felt hot, and goosebumps covered her arm in his wake. She took another step toward him, so they were only inches apart. He had a few random smears of blood over his shoulders and chest. Tori traced them with her fingers, then ran her hand over the bruise on his torso. Minato shivered. 

“Tori, I…” His voice cracked and she raised her eyebrows. “I really, really like you.”

Tori felt her stomach flip over and squeeze in the best way. Her toes curled with the excited warmth that spread through her. She put one hand over either side of his face, and he just stared down at her with a hunger she’d been dying to see on him. 

Deadliest ninja alive for me, Tori thought. 

Outloud, she said, “Good,” and then pulled him down into a kiss. 

They had, maybe, been planning to go back into the bathroom and shower before they did this. But Minato touched her like he wanted her, like he cared about her, and Tori did not have a single complaint when they moved to the bed. 

“This is also a hand,” Minato observed of her ankle from between her legs. He absentmindedly kissed the inside of her calf. 

“That guy’s definitely dead,” Tori replied. Her cheeks were hot and her stomach was buzzing with excited nerves. 

Minato hummed and kissed the inside of her thigh next. Tori watched as his nose brushed against her skin, and he left a trail of kisses moving further up. 

The blood splatter over the bridge of his nose continued onto his cheek. It was, very possibly, blood from multiple people. A flake had come off on her thigh. 

“Minato…” Tori started, and he paused, lips still against her skin, eyes meeting hers. “You are covered in blood.”

“Oh,” Minato said, sitting up fully. “Do you want us to clean up first?”

His face looked so eager to please, a stark contrast with the blood in his hair. That fact that she was also dirty and gross didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. 

“No,” Tori decided. “Keep going.”

[writingmingyu]

Facetime with Mingyu

Pairings: Mingyu x afab reader Summary: You sent Mingyu some lingerie pictures and he decided pictures weren't enough, so he's decided to give you a call... Genre: Smut, minors DNI Warnings: Phone sex, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, use of sex toys, lots of dirty talk, use of pet names, praise kink Word count: ~2.8k

Author’s Note: I got the idea for this months ago and I've finally sat down to write it! So hope you enjoy! x

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

"Hello?" You answer the Facetime request from Mingyu.

"Good, you're still in the lingerie," Mingyu replied. You can see him walking down a hallway and entering a room. 

"So you liked the pictures?" You smirked. 

"You know I always love your pictures," You were bored and Mingyu had been gone for far too long, you had to show him what he was missing.

“What are you up to?”

“Just got back to the hotel room, thought I’d call to see your pretty face, and you’re pretty underwear up close.”

“You could zoom in on the photos you know,” 

“It’s not the same, so pan down. Show me.”

You do as you’re told, moving your phone slowly down your body and back up to your face. “Happy?”

“Show me more,”

“How much more?”

“All of you,”

“Give me a sec,” you get off the bed to find somewhere to prop your phone up so Mingyu can see your full figure. You take your time undressing, using slow movements to tease him, enjoying the fact that he was halfway across the world and couldn’t do anything to speed up your pace.

“Is it the internet that’s slow or are you genuinely trying to kill me?” Mingyu asks, shifting in his seat.

“I’m running this show, you have to accept my pace,” you say over your shoulder as you drop your bra to the floor.

“You’d better turn around and show me those perky tits of yours.” Mingyu practically growls as you lift a leg to unhook your garter belt from your stocking.

“Patience, baby,” you smirk rolling the stocking down your leg. You remove both your stockings before slowly turning around to face your phone again, Mingyu’s face close to the camera waiting in anticipation.

You hear him moan as you lean down close to the camera to remove your panties, blowing Mingyu a kiss before you straighten up so he could see you fully exposed.

“God I wish I was there,” Mingyu groans. “I just want to touch you all over, claim you, make you mine.”

“I already am yours,” You say, lifting the phone again to your face.

“I wasn’t done looking,” Mingyu pouts.

“I just wanna see your face, I miss you too ya know.”

“That’s not why you sent those photos and you know it. You wanted me to squirm, to turn me on, make my cock hard.”

“Is it?” You ask, batting your eyes innocently.

“You know it is,”

“Show me,”

Mingyu moves to prop the camera up so he can sit back, he removed his shirt slowly, teasing you back as he exposes his muscular chest. He then reaches for the buttons on his jeans and undoes them before hooking his fingers into his waistband and lifting his waist to pull them down. His cock springing free and landing against his abdomen, his eyes on you and as your mouth opens hungrily.

“You should close your mouth baby, don’t want you catching flies.” Mingyu smirks.

You close your mouth and lie back on the bed, “So now what?”

“Open your toy drawer, what have we got to play with today?” Mingyu asks bringing his phone back to his face.

“You wanna play?” You ask, blushing. You were used to having phone sex with Mingyu, he was away a lot and you had to be creative but this was the first time you were on Facetime, usually, you just talked, it was different if he could really see what you were actually doing.

“Well, I guess I could just put my clothes back on and we could watch a movie or something but that seems like a waste.”

“It does,” you bite your lip thinking about his cock standing proud against his stomach. You flip your phone camera around and open your bedside drawer to show Mingyu you’re toy collection. It was a small collection, but Mingyu had added to it over time, he was always bringing home fun things to try in the bedroom.

“Take a vibrator and a dildo, maybe some lube if you need it.” You lift the items from the drawer and set them down on the nightstand. “You should probably get a tripod too, I want to see all of you.”

You disappear to find a tripod and have to do some fiddling to set it up at a good angle. Mingyu stays silent on his end as he watches you setting up, he would never complain about getting a good view of your breasts as you adjust the tripod.

“Is this good?” You ask, moving back onto the bed.

“Looks great,”

“I can’t see you as well though,” you complain.

“You don’t need to baby, this part is all for me. You’ll get to see all you need to very soon.”

“You promise you won’t touch yourself ‘til then?”

“I’ll do my best,”

“You’d better,” you warn, spreading your legs to give Mingyu a view of your core.

“There’s my pretty girl, give your pussy a little stroke for me, and go slow.” You lift your hand and do as you’re told, your fingers trailing up and down your slit and over your clit. “Are you wet for me yet baby?”

“I’m getting there,” you say leaning into your touch. 

“Work your clit a bit more, I want to see your pussy glistening for me.”

You move your fingers to your clit, rubbing in small circles and letting out a moan at the sensation. You spread your legs wider to give Mingyu a better view.

“God you look go good right now baby, you’re making me so hard. I want you to take two fingers and slowly push them into your core. Show me how wet you are.”

You move your hand lower, inserting your index and middle finger into your pussy, you begin to move them in and out of you, creating the friction your body was yearning for.

It takes a minute before you realise that Mingyu is calling your name, you freeze in motion to look up at your phone. “Having fun?” Mingyu asks when he gets your attention.

“Just getting carried away,” you mumble before removing your fingers and sitting up. “As you can see though, very wet.” You bring your fingers close to the screen.

“Yep, soaking. Looks like you’re in desperate need of a cock to fill that pretty pussy right up. Lie back down, take that dildo and line it up with your core. But don’t you dare insert it until I say, got it?”

“Yes, Mingyu.” You say getting into position.

“You promise to listen to my voice? I don’t want you getting too carried away or there will be consequences.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good, because you’re driving me nuts and I haven’t even touched myself once.”

“Really?” You say in disbelief. You’d never known your boyfriend to show any kind of self-restraint before.

“I’m being good for you, now be good for me.”

"Yes sir," you say lying back and rubbing the dildo along your slit, just like Mingyu would do with his cock if he was there, wetting it before lining it back up with your entrance. 

"Just the tip," Mingyu says, his cock twitching in anticipation. 

You moan as you insert the tip of the dildo into you. Your walls clenching already at it, wanting more. 

"That's it, take it slow."

"Mmm Mingyu," you gasp as you push the toy further into you, slowly adjusting to the size of it. 

"Fuck I wish I was that deep inside you baby, how's it feel?"

"Good, not as good as you."

"Nothing ever is, sweetheart. Keep your movements slow, I wanna see you writhing for me."

You begin to move the dildo in and out of you, slow movements which make you gasp and moan at the absence of the toy and reentrance. Your free hand pinching at your nipples and groping your breasts. 

"You're doing so good baby, you're making me leak precum everywhere. God, I wish I could touch you, tease you. Grab that vibrator, I think your clit needs some attention."

You reach over for the other toy and flick it on. Reaching down to press it to your clit. "Fuck Gyu," you moan arching off the bed at the sensation. 

"Are you getting close?"

"Yes," you breathe out, increasing the pace of the vibrator, your hips moving in time for more friction. "Please can I cum?"

"Not yet, I need more of a show, get up. Bend over."

You reluctantly stop what you're doing to reposition. Putting the base of the dildo on the bed and hovering over it, your back to the phone. "Is this a good angle?"

"Perfect,"

You waste no time sinking back down onto the toy and riding it, bringing the vibrator back towards your clit. 

"That's it, baby, show me how'd you'd ride that cock."

Mingyu's words spur you on, you begin to move faster, moaning his name as you imagine him beneath you, his cock inside you, his hands on your hips. 

"I'm gonna cum!" You gasp out, feeling the familiar feeling build in the pit of your stomach. 

"Yes, princess, cum for me. Let me see you cum all over that cock."

His words have you coming undone. You ride out the high, feeling your cum dripping down onto the bed sheets and leaning into the vibrator on your clit. 

"Keep going, don't stop riding," Mingyu commands. 

You keep going, your thighs burning and feeling weak, your body feeling extra sensitive from the vibrator but you knew if Mingyu was there he would be using it relentlessly on you driving you wild with overstimulation. 

When you feel you're going to combust you stop moving, slowly raising yourself up and off the dildo, turning the vibrator off and collapsing down on the bed. 

"You doing okay?" Mingyu asks, concern in his voice. 

You nod, slowly sitting up and reaching for some tissues to clean yourself up a bit before grabbing a robe and your phone.

"How you feeling?" Mingyu says once you're settled. 

"Good, haven't cum like that in a while."

"Just wait til I get home, I'll have you seeing stars ‘til next week."

You laugh, "How are you doing? Is your cock holding up?"

Mingyu pans his phone down to show you his lower half, his torso covered in a light film of precum and his cock twitching. "He's doing his best,"

"You really didn't touch yourself the whole time?"

"I definitely wanted to but I know you like to watch,"

You blushed, truth be told you did enjoy seeing Mingyu jerk himself off to you. It was usually before he fucked you, he would watch you play with yourself before he jumped in. There was something so sexy about seeing the lust in his eyes as he watched you, and how he worked himself up.

"I'm ready," you say leaning back into your pillows. 

"Guide me, baby, I need your help."

"Place your hand on the base of your cock, move slowly up to the tip and use your thumb to spread that precum around."

You watch as Mingyu sets his phone up so you can see his whole body and does as he's told, he's controlled and moans at his own touch. Keeping his eyes locked on yours through the screen. 

"Your cock looks so good Gyu," you praise him. "I'd love to be there right now and wrap my lips around it."

Mingyu grunts in response, his hand moving back down his shaft and up again at a slow pace. "Would you take me the whole way into that pretty little mouth of yours?"

"You know I would, teasing your tip with my tongue."

"That's a good girl,"

"Want me to show you how I'd do it?"

"God yes,"

You grab the dildo you used earlier and brought it to your lips, making sure to keep eye contact with your phone as you began to take it into your mouth. 

"You're driving me crazy," Mingyu hisses, the grip on himself tightening as he imagines your head in his lap. "Can I pick up the pace?"

You pull back from the dildo and nod. "Just a little,"

"Only a little?"

"Well, I guess I can't stop you if you wanted to cum. You've been so patient but I'm having fun."

Mingyu continues to stroke his length, slower than he would have liked but he wanted to please you. You followed his instructions, it was only fair he followed yours. 

"Tell me more about what you'd do to me if you were here," Mingyu says, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"I’d be sitting on your lap, kissing your neck, riding your thigh, my hand on your big hard dick.” You say, watching Mingyu moan at the picture. “I’d be soaking your thigh with how wet I was, begging to ride you.”

“I would kill to feel your pussy around me around now.”

“I’d be straddling you, lining you up with my entrance, before sinking down on you, taking my time, adjusting to how big you are.” Mingyu’s hand moves in time with your words, starting at the tip he sinks down, murmuring your name.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks.

“Maybe,”

“Do it,”

You’d gotten yourself worked up again with your words and the sight of him getting himself off so you grab your dildo again, moaning at the sensation as your body welcomes it in again.

“Fuck, I need you to speed this up, I’m gonna cum.” Mingyu says, his strokes getting faster.

“So soon?” You gasp as you begin moving your dildo at the same pace as Mingyu’s moving his hand. Trying to focus on the task at hand but also feeling your orgasm building again.

“Talk to me, I need to hear your voice.”

“Oh Mingyu, I need you, want you to fill this pussy up real good. Need you to cum for me, inside me, all over me, claim me.” You whine.

“That’s it, baby.” Mingyu begins thrusting up into his hand, images of you splayed out in front of him ready for his cock running through his head.

"Fuck Gyu, cock feels so good, gonna make me cum. Cum with me, need to see that cum." Your hips begin moving in time with Mingyu's, wanting to meet his cock, the toy you're using hitting your G spot. 

Your words send Mingyu over the edge, he curses under his breath as his cock pulses in his hand, covering himself in his own cum. You continue to work at yourself chasing your own high and coming undone, Mingyu’s name on your lips.

“Careful not to drop your phone,” Mingyu’s voice brings you back to reality.

“I’ve got it,” you say removing your toy and sitting up. 

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he says voice serious. “I’m a mess.”

“That makes two of us,” you smile, feeling proud of yourself for working Mingyu up into such a state. You’d never seen him like this before, his cock limp and his torso glistening in cum. He never came on himself, he usually had a towel or something nearby or he would be coming on you.

“If you were here I’d be making you clean this up.” He stands to grab a towel to clean himself up.

“If I was there you wouldn’t be a mess, I would be,”

“That’s true,” he mused, sitting back down and lifting his phone. 

“So when will you be home?”

“I’m cutting my trip short and catching the next flight home.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am, this was torture, I need to touch you, smell you, be with you.”

“Sleep on it, okay?” You missed Mingyu too but you didn’t want him to get fired for skipping out on his business trip.

“Fine,” he sighed, “always the voice of reason.”

“I’m going to go shower now, so go back to your work. I know you left when I sent you those pictures.”

“Yes ma’am, but promise to send more later?”

“We’ll see.”

“I love you,”

“I love you too Gyu. Now go back to work!” You hung up the phone and lay in silence for a while, already missing Mingyu’s presence. As you were cleaning up and headed to shower your phone pinged with a message, you opened it to find a photo of Mingyu in his hotel bathroom. Flexing his muscles and showing off for you.

Miss you x 

Said the caption. You decided to send one back to him in a similar fashion.

Miss you more x

I’ll be back before you know it.

And you did know it because as much as long-distance with Mingyu sucked you knew he always came back. In the meantime, you’d already accepted this new Facetime venture as part of the routine, Mingyu would want to see you naked every chance he got from now on. So you made a note to go shopping for more underwear to make it worth his while. If a show was what he wanted, you were going to give it to him every time.

[chuuyasheaven]

Hi im back☺️☺️ can i request prompt 2 with (who would have guessed) chuuya? I just couldnt resist after that last smut like HOLY shit i reread it every morning😭 Take your time and remember to stay hydrated💛

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ; 02 : Brat taming

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ; Chuuya has been pretty busy lately, and his needy girlfriend is being bratty abt it. This leads up to him taking you against the table. <3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs; mean!dom!Chuuya, sub!bratty!fem!reader, fucking on a table with Chuuya, degrading kink (f!recieving), ooc!Chuuya (ig), slight spanking, kinda fingering, petnames (such as slut, baby, whore, etc.), porn without *any* plot, basically me in heat /j, etc.

ɴᴏᴛᴇs; This is a draft bcs i can. So take this while i have to take a break, i just suffer from major daddy issues right now lol. Also, this was from my new year event, enjoy! ( 5-6 months later; felt horny for Chuuya so take this while i prepare myself for a exam!!)

“Such a fuckin' brat for attention, huh?”, Chuuya tsked at you.

He had such a stressful day, just to come home to you whining and annoying him further.

Chuuya just needed to somehow ‘relief’ all that stress!

“I’m s-sorry, Chuuya!”, you said just for him to spank you.

“I don’t wanna hear it.”, he hissed.

You were being spanked on the table, bent over of course, while still having your panties on.

All his spanks just kept you wet for him.

Even though you still had some undergarments on, you could tell there was gonna be a slight hand print.

“Now, bend over for me, just where i can see you perfectly, understood?”, Chuuya commanded you, with a slightly strict tone.

Not wanting to piss him off more, you just bent over as far as you could, just how he wanted.

Waiting for his next move, you felt him rip off your panties.

But those were your favorite!

“C-Chuuya! Those were my favorites?!”, you felt his hand wrap around your neck from behind, it wasn’t too harsh, but it wasn’t very soft too.

“I can always buy you more. Now, do you want me to fuck you or do you want me to just leave you like that?”, he whispered into your ear, sneakily having his gloveless fingers tease your wet pussy.

This made you even more desperate for him, even wetting his fingers with more of your slick.

“You don’t want me to leave you so wet for me, do you? It would be such a shame, y’know?”, now he was just teasing you. For what even? To beg? As if!

“N-no..p-please, fuck me, Chuuya.. I-i need you!”, he felt a small smirk creep up his lips.

“What was that? Was it my slut begging for me to fuck her brains out?”, Chuuya never disappointed with his dirty talk, did he?

He knows what he’s doing, he just wants to frustrate you!

But it’s fair, afterall all your whining got you here..

“J-just do it already..”, you weakly said, starting to grow impatient.

“I know you can beg more nicely than that, baby.”, Chuuya denied you even further.

“C-come on, p-please, Chuuya..stop t-teasing me, I’m r-really sorry!”, you could feel yourself on the edge of desperate tears.

“Awe, my poor princess is about to cry, isn’t she? Well, if you want it, who am i to deny you?”, finally, he was gonna take you!

“But since you’ve been such a brat, i won’t go easy on you..”, i don’t care, just fuck me like the whore i am!

You heard Chuuya take off his belt, feeling relief washing over you.

When he removed his boxers, you felt him entering. Since he’s not that cruel, he’s gonna wait a few seconds before pushing in completely.

It was finally time, he started to thrust into you, just like he said before, not particularly soft..

His pace was fast and rough, which was amazing, but kinda overwhelming, but you asked for this.

“Consider me nice enough to even fuck you like this..”, Chuuya said while ruthlessly fucking you into oblivion.

“F-fuck! F-feels so good..”, you chanted, obviously already cock drunk.

“You’re already so drunk of my cock, aren’t you? Fucking slut.”, yes, it was mean, but it was just the truth!

Honestly, nobody should blame you.

You slowly felt your high approach, feeling your knot build up.

You felt Chuuya’s hitched breathing and whimpers against your ears, while he was holding your tits.

“Fuck, ‘m so fuckin’ close..”, you were getting pretty close too.

“Tell me, who’s fuckin’ slut are you?”, you better still have the ability to answer this question.

“Y-yours! I’m your slut, only you fuck me like this..”, you answered, slurring these words.

“Damn right, nobody can slut you out like i can, understood?”

Something just snapped guys.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I think we should throw the two twst French men into a room and observe how they interact 😳 👉👈

I FULLY AGREE WITH THIS… Let them congregate 😤 for French-on-French violence science!!

P.S. I think Rollo should speak full-on French just let me have this 😳 (Shoutout to @pointedly-foolish, who generously translated my English dialogue to French for this post~)

Like Fire, Hellfire.

Another school day was drawing to a close.

Rollo had settled into a comfortable routine by now. Keep his head low, avoid eye contact, speak little, stick to his textbooks and hug the quiet corners. In this manner, he avoided incidents with the NRC students.

His peers had filed out of the classroom long ago, racing off for extracurriculars, their friends, their dorms. They had places to be, people to be with. He didn’t.

… Good riddance. Rollo released a sigh as he retrieved his staff. Already, his mind was making a pass through a checklist. He had to hurry back to his temporary housing, prepare his usual dinner, cleanse himself of grime—

Click.

The classroom door suddenly swung closed right in front of him. A gloved hand on it, keeping the exit sealed off.

Rollo froze when he sensed a warm body behind him—from where the gloved hand had extended. A terrible realization sunk in: he had been caged, trapped between the door and some stranger.

Just his luck.

He glared over his shoulder, glimpsing his captor. It was a man in a golden bob, his vest a deep violet and his armband bearing the sword-strikeb apple emblem of Pomefiore. A hat with a generous brim shadowed piercing green eyes and a smile sharper than knives.

“Roi du Mouchoir,” the blonde man greeted with the tip of his feathered headwear, “bonjour.”

“You are Rook Hunt, if I’m not mistaken. I remember you from the... masquerade.” Rollo’s voice was tight. “Do you care to explain why it is that you’ve cornered me like this?“

“Désolé!! Pardon the intrusion.” Rook’s cheery tone seemed to indicate that he was, in fact, not sorry at all. “I consider myself a huntsman—and as it just so happens, I’ve found quite the fascinating quarry. Can you guess who it is?”

“... I have no quarrel with you, but I am not a wild beast to be hunted down. You wicked NRC mages seem to rely on the basest forms of amusement." Rollo folded his arms. "Kindly remove yourself—you're impeding my schedule."

“It will only take but a moment of your time!”

“I haven’t a moment to spare. Find another subject to amuse yourself with.”

« Non, non! » Rook wagged a finger and winked, sending a chill down Rollo’s spine. « Mon vœu n'est que de mieux vous connaître. »

I want to get to know you better.

Rook's words were sweet and low and intimate, like a lover's croon. The familiarity with which he spoke made everything in Rollo shrivel up and die. Disgust rose up like bile.

« Et j'aimerai être loins, loin de cet endroit damné, » Rollo snapped, his tongue laced with venom, « mais lamentablement, on ne peut pas tout avoir, n'est-ce pas? »

And I want to be far, far away from this wretched place—but I suppose we can’t all have what we wish for, now can we?

Rook didn’t miss a single beat. He held up an index finger.

« Auriez-vous l'obligeance de me donner un sourire? C'est tout ce que je demande! »

Would you be so kind as to give me a smile? That’s all I ask!

« ... Pourquoi? »

... Why?

« Je ne vous ai pas encore vu dans toute votre sincerite. Ta beauté. »

I have yet to see your most genuine self. Your beauty.

The phrasing of it rubbed Rollo the wrong way. His patience at last caved, and his tongue switched back, unleashing irritation unfettered upon the huntsman.

"Enough of this charade. You know perfectly well what sort of man I am. There is no need for you to play ignorant. To you villains, I am nothing more than a monster. That is the end of the story.”

"Ah, you speak of the portrait of a city dyed in crimson." Rook's eyes held a playful twinkle. "And you, its artist, driven by despair to bring about the end of the world as we know it."

"If you are going to waste my time, at least be more succinct with your blabber."

"Bien sûr." Rook chuckled and held out both hands, palms facing up. "That is only but one side of you: your lowest point. What I seek is a full spectrum of oneself, its mirror. A Roi du Mouchoir at his most jubilant and most radiant, emotions unclouded. Smiling."

Rollo scowled.

"It is physically impossible for me to force even a fake one when I am surrounded by blithering oafs," he shot back. Like yourself, he silently added. "Not to mention these grounds are infested with sin. How is anyone meant to be smiling in this scenario?"

Rollo, of course, discounted the stupid grin currently on Rook's face. Idiots didn't deserve the consideration.

Frustration curled at his temples all the same.

He could not understand it. Pain, suffering, loss—were those not shared experiences of the human condition? Yet here was a fool who seemed to take it all in stride, laughing as he winded down the path of life and smelled the roses that peppered it.

Saw the fairness of the world when Rollo could not.

Embers sparked under his skin, as if summoned up by a struck match. Rollo clenched his jaw. He didn't like it—didn't like that this buffoon and his flowery prattle were getting to him.

Rollo took a sharp breath in, then released it.

"... Move. You've held me up for long enough."

With the butt of his staff, he prodded Rook back, releasing his hold on the door. Rollo yanked it open, not even bothering to toss one last withering look back at the huntsman before passing through.

"Roi du Mouchoir!!"

Rook was likely at the doorframe now, calling after him.

"Do NOT follow me under any circumstances," Rollo said without looking, "or I will report you to the proper authorities for violating my personal boundaries."

It’s a wonder why he hasn’t been already.

“Fufufu. A strong rebuttal… however, I won’t admit defeat!” Rook continued, undeterred by the vitriol. Rollo could hear the smile in him. “I promise you, I will capture your smile someday. Le Chasseur d’Amour down not give up on the hunt quite so easily!”

Tch. What a meddlesome man.

Rollo grimaced into his handkerchief as he hurried down the hallway. With each step, Rook’s voice grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared entirely.

Clearing the courtyard, a sense of filthiness set in, clinging to Rollo’s robes like patches of a broken web. Cleaning off the day would have to come second to expunging the memory of the huntsman. The proximity of him.

Rollo wanted to retch all over again.

Rook was of sight, perhaps, but not out of mind.

[theflyindutchwoman]

I trust your judgement and your interpretations of scenes always make so much sense, so here’s my question for you: what was your take on the Tim x Blair elevator scene at the beginning of 6x08? It definitely rubbed me the wrong way and I’m having trouble making sense of it.

Honesty? I'm a bit at a loss… All I know is this scene rubbed me the wrong way too. It painted a picture in my head and I would like very much to have it removed. Fair warning : I'm going to be a tad negative below the cut.

I think it would help if we knew how long had passed between 6.07 and 6.08 or how many sessions Tim had attended… But my guess is, not that long and not that many. So it already felt out of place for him to be suddenly this comfortable with his therapist - especially in light of his behaviour with her in the previous episode. Still, that could have worked and showed his progress. But for him to be flirting like that… I was not prepared. It's not like this is his default mode. Now, I realise that may very well be me reading into things but apparently I'm far from being the only one… so if that wasn't the intent, then something went wrong in the execution.

And that's the thing : I'm still unsure what the intention behind this undertone was. If that was to highlight Tim's progress with his therapy, then there were other ways to depict that. If it was to show how he's still spiralling but pretending that everything is alright, then this wasn't it either. If it was his attempt to find out more about Mad Dog, then that was wrong of him for so many different reasons. If it was to imply he was somehow suspicious of Dr London, then it needed to be more obvious because his face after he left the elevator didn't clear things up. And here's the other issue with this : as far as we know, he didn't have any reason to suspect anything. The fact that Blair was talking with Mad Dog and apparently got into the wrong elevator wasn't a good enough reason for me (not without any prior knowledge of her shadiness). If something had happened during therapy that would make him question her, then we needed to see that. Ironically, this scene could have worked if it had happened at the hospital, when Tim was actually started to get suspicious of a potential leak inside the department… Or towards the end of the episode. By then, you could argue that he was trying to play her. But here, at the beginning of the episode? Not so much. And it it was to show how she was using her position to get information, then she should have been the one to make the move. She should have acted like she did with Aaron so we could catch that pattern.

As it is, without further context, it's hard not to take it at face value and see it for what it is : Tim flirting with his therapist. And coupled with that lingering shot of the door closing in after he entered her office in 6.07 (an image I didn't mind back then), it is sending a very mixed message. One that was absolutely unnecessary in my opinion because it doesn't add anything to the storyline. Maybe next episode will clarify some things on the matter. Maybe it really was unintentional. But at the moment, I'm still baffled by this scene. I just don't like how Tim was portrayed here.

[maximwtf]

“You should watch out more...”

art: @/thirdchildart on tiktok

Jonathan Sims  x Reader

words: 1020

google docs pages: 2.5

Warnings: Worms, trypophobia (mild), knife, mentions of blood, some spoilers for S1

opening: One of the worms bit you when your attention was elsewhere. It’s quite late, and the only other person still working is Jonathan. He’s the only one you can ask to remove the creature. 

AN// No pronouns used for reader! I was lowkey upset at how small amount of Jonathan fanfics I could find so I guess I’ll make them myself. I’m still getting the hang of personalities so do excuse me if anything is out of character. :”D 

                        “You should watch out more…”

It had happened so swiftly, there had been no time to react or stop it from happening. Once the nauseating creatures had made its way onto the table and close enough to your arms, what was there to be done? The worm had bitten you, and started to bury itself in your forearm. The sight alone was enough to make you gag, but the feeling of the act was something so nauseating it got a scream to leave your body. This specimen seemed to be a little faster than the other ones you had seen before. Disgusting, nevertheless. The scream didn’t alert anyone, not that it could have. There was no one else there to hear it, except for one man. Jonathan Sims, your superior.

The chair at your desk almost fell over from the harsh movement you had made whilst getting up. You didn’t care. What had felt like running, you made your way to his door and knocked on it frantically. You knew he hated when people disturbed him, especially if he was recording. But this must have counted as an emergency. There was no way you’d be able to get the worm out on your own, you were far too panicked. But even apart from that, it would be harder to do by yourself. Your free hand was far too shaky to be of any help.

It felt like the knocks had gone unheard, almost to the point where you had started to think the man must have fallen asleep or was just ignoring you on purpose. Though, just as you were about to open the door even without an invitation to do so, a ‘come in’ called out from the room behind the door. You did so, gladly.

Almost an irritated groan met you when the door behind you closed shut. “What is it?” Called out from the table, he looked tired but reasonably so, it was quite late. You wanted to tell him straight away, but the words were oddly stuck somewhere in your throat. “I got bit.” Was the final result from all the things to tell him that had gone through your mind. You saw his brows furrow, now more serious than irritated, but still somehow he looked to be both? Seriously irritated? No time for that. “The worms, one of them…it bit me and…”  You tried to explain, but the panic in your mind blocked any sensible thoughts from coming through. You pulled the sleeve of the bitten arm up, showing him instead of explaining. Jonathan slid closer to you, still sitting on his chair. He pulled the arm lower to examine it, a look of horror spreading on his face at the sight but he soon hid it. You'd say it was for your sake, but knowing him it was unlikely. “We need to get that out..” He murmured, turning to his desk and opening one of the drawers.

You leaned to sit on the edge of his table, trembling just enough to think standing wasn’t the best option. To your horror Jon pulled out a small knife from the drawer. “Are you serious?!” You asked, shock clear on your face. “If you have better options to suggest, now's the time to do that.” The man murmured, taking an oddly firm hold of your wrist, placing it down against the cool surface of the wooden table. Not that you were going to pull away, but now you couldn’t even if you wanted to. “No, I suppose I don’t…” You bit the inside of your lower lip, looking away from the hole that had formed on your forearm. Jonathan placed the blade around the hole, cutting in. It hurt, there was no way to hide that. No amount of biting your teeth together could have governed the hiss that left you, hands curling into fists to block the urge of pulling away. You knew more damage would have been done if you moved too much. “Stay still.” A harsh murmur that came from Jon. He was focused, but clearly at least a little frightened himself. He wasn’t a brave man, and you knew that. Soon enough he caught it, pulling it out and away. You gagged, not even trying to hide it, trembling as he let go of your wrist. Hand still placed over your wrist. Jon killed the thing, stomping on it after throwing it onto the floor. He'd done it with such emotion, that it almost looks like he has something personal with that specific specimen.

The wound still ached, bled a little from the damage the knife had done. “I’ll bandage it for you…I suppose.” Jonathan spoke after he had made sure that the worm was truly dead, not moving an inch from its resting place. The drawer opened again, a roll of bandages appearing into the archivist’s hands from it. He looked up at you, as if asking to straighten your arm. You did straighten it, he took a hold of your wrist again and pulled you closer. With somewhat careful movements he rolled the bandages on the wound and the hole, hiding them away. “You should watch out more..this isn’t the first day we’ve had these…parasites.” He mumbled while finishing the bandaging. “You shouldn’t even be here this late, leave as early as you can.” He sighed, letting go of your arm. “I know, I’ll be more careful.” You hopped off the table, a little less shaken by now. “In fact…I’ll head out now. I’ll just grab my coat. You could join me?” You asked, walking towards the door, feeling his eyes follow you. “Yes, I suppose…I should get going too.” He took a hold of his coat, hanging it over his arm. You nodded, leaving the door open when you exited the room. You could have sworn he looked more relieved after you left, as if he had been waiting for someone to ask to leave with him. And in all honesty, you doubted you would have left if he hadn't come along. The place was far too eerie nowadays to wander alone.

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 86

Sam had driven into town to grab some necessities—groceries and cleaning supplies—leaving Steve and me alone at the cabin. After watching the sunset from the pier, we headed back inside. We both sat on the couch, unsure how to pass the time.

The evening chill had set in, and I rubbed my arms to stay warm. Noticing me shivering, Steve spoke up. “I can try to get the fireplace going if you’re cold.”

“I’m fine,” I replied, though my voice was far from convincing.

“It’s no big deal. Let me take a look,” he said with a small smile, getting up to crouch in front of the fireplace. The whole exchange felt awkward—like two strangers making forced small talk.

“It should warm up any minute,” Steve said, turning to me after coaxing a small flame to life in the fireplace.

“Thanks,” I replied with a smile, pulling my leg up onto the couch. Steve stood there, hands on his hips, returning the smile.

“Sam should be back any minute,” he added, and I hoped he was right.

As the room gradually grew warmer, I tried to get comfortable, but the couch was stiff and uncomfortable, even just sitting on it. The thought crossed my mind to ask Steve if he wanted to share the room with me, but even a simple conversation felt awkward right now—never mind sharing a bed.

Finally, the front door creaked open, and Sam walked in, carrying two large bags of supplies. Steve quickly stepped forward, taking one of the bags and carrying it into the kitchen, placing it on the table. I followed behind them.

“Any issues in town?” I asked as Sam took off his cap and sunglasses.

“No, everything went smoothly,” he replied, starting to unpack the groceries. I nodded and quietly stepped in to help.

Sam had brought an assortment of fruits and vegetables, a bunch of ramen packets, pasta, various cheeses, and plenty of chicken and beef. “We can freeze the meat, but leave some out for dinner,” Sam instructed. I nodded and started dividing the cuts, sealing most in freezer bags while setting aside some chicken breasts for tonight.

This all felt strangely domestic, almost enough to forget that we were hiding out from the government. Once everything was put away, Steve began cleaning up the dust-covered cabin while Sam and I started cooking.

I was chopping potatoes when Sam broke the silence, slicing the meat as he spoke. “How are you two getting along?”

“It’s a little awkward, but... it’s okay, I guess,” I replied, placing the potatoes into a casserole dish.

“Well, you're stronger than me,” he said with a laugh. “No way I could live in a secluded cabin with my ex-girlfriend.”

I paused, confused, mid-chop. “I mean, technically we’re on a break. Does that make him my ex? Did he tell you we’re broken up?”

Sam turned around, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. “No, no, he did say you were on a break. But does that really make a difference? What would you call him if not your ex-boyfriend?” he asked.

I froze, my eyebrows knitting together in frustration. “I don’t know...” It was all too confusing. With a shrug, I resumed chopping the vegetables. “I don’t know, Sam. I really don’t,” I repeated, feeling exasperated.

I added the chopped vegetables to the casserole dish, and Sam followed with the meat before we placed it in the oven. Steve emerged from the bathroom, his hair disheveled, sleeves rolled up, and looking surprisingly good for someone who had just cleaned a toilet.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a grin. “Everything’s squeaky clean, so if nature calls, I suggest heading into the woods—I’d like to keep it that way,” he quipped.

“Very funny,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “Dinner will be ready in 40 minutes.” With that, he plopped down on the couch.

Steve approached me with an awkward smile as I removed my apron and hung it up. “Did you tell Sam we broke up?” I asked, my voice tense. His smile faltered, replaced by confusion as he shook his head.

“What? No, I didn’t,” he replied, clearly caught off guard.

From the living room, Sam’s voice rang out over the sound of the TV. “I can hear you guys!”

Frustrated, I huffed and grabbed Steve’s arm, pulling him into my room and shutting the door behind us. “What are we, Steve? We haven’t even been here a full day, and I already hate how things are.” I crossed my arms. “The politeness, the forced smiles—I hate it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So, you don’t want me to be polite? Or smile?”

“Not like that,” I replied, my shoulders tense. “Not when it feels fake.”

“I wouldn’t call it fake,” Steve said softly. “Things are just complicated. I’m just trying to make things feel normal.”

I nodded, still uncertain about what we were, but I didn’t want to press the issue further. If he didn’t want to answer, then so be it.

“Your room looks nice,” Steve said, glancing around as he sat down on my freshly made bed. I had unpacked the few clothes I brought a couple of books, the Alpine plushie, and the ladybug pin on the dresser.

“You can sleep here if you want,” I said, sitting down next to him. “The couch is way too small and uncomfortable.”

Steve raised a hand in a defensive gesture. “Oh no, that’s not why I said that—”

But I cut him off. “If you want things to feel normal, then you sleeping on the couch isn’t normal. So, sleep here. I don’t mind,” I said with a smile.

“If you’re sure?” he asked softly.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s fine. The bed is big enough, and there’s plenty of space between us.”

He perked up at that like a kid permitted to eat sweets before dinner, though there was still a hint of disappointment in his expression that I couldn’t quite place.

We headed back out and settled in to watch TV in silence until dinner was ready. We ate at the kitchen table, with Sam doing most of the talking. I was grateful for his chatter; it filled the space and spared us from awkward silences.

After we were full, Sam opened a small dresser in the living room, revealing a collection of old board games. I had never really played board games before, but I was up for giving it a try. We decided on Monopoly, where the goal was to become the richest player.

After Sam explained the rules, we spent hours on the living room floor, laughing and playing. The cabin was filled with the lingering aroma of our delicious dinner, and the fireplace crackled warmly. For a moment, it almost felt like I could get used to this.

The moment of ease faded as bedtime approached. Sam had already retreated to his room, and Steve was in the bathroom. I paced around my bedroom, already dressed in sleep shorts and a shirt, feeling inexplicably nervous. We were just supposed to sleep, after all.

When Steve returned, he had a shy smile on his face, dressed in grey sweatpants and a white tank top. He still looked effortlessly handsome. “What side do you want to sleep on?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t mind either way.”

When he didn’t move, I walked over to the side closer to me. “The left side is fine,” I said, sitting down.

He sat down on the other side and slipped under the blanket, turning to face me. I followed, pulling the blanket over myself and breathing in the scent of freshly washed sheets.

Steve's gaze flickered to the Alpine plushie on my dresser, but he quickly looked away. “You still have it,” he said, his voice neutral.

“Of course I do. Did you expect me to throw it away?” I asked, frowning. I’d put it aside when he once shared his insecurities, but I would never get rid of it.

“No, no, of course not,” he replied, sounding sincere.

I got up, tossed the blanket off, and walked to the dresser. I picked up a small box next to Alpine and returned to the bed, handing it to him.

“I kept this too,” I said, urging him to open it. His expression softened as he recognized the box—it held the ladybug pin he’d given me on my 16th birthday. Slowly, he opened it, his smile growing at the sight.

“I remember that day like it was yesterday,” he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “I was so nervous when I gave it to you.”

Back then, I had thought it was just a friendly gesture, but in hindsight, I realized it meant so much more.

“It’s lost a bit of its shine, but it’s still beautiful,” I said, smiling to myself. “It was the first gift a boy ever gave me.”

“Really?” he asked, perking up in surprise. His reaction tugged at my heart, making me a little sad. So many of my firsts had been with Bucky—maybe this was one he was glad to have for himself.

The moment felt so tender and sweet that, for a second, I forgot everything else. “You’re special to me, Steve. Never forget that,” I said with a sad smile. No matter what had happened between us, he would always have a place in my heart.

I leaned over and kissed his cheek softly before he handed the box back to me with a gentle smile.

“Good night, Steve,” I said, placing the box on my nightstand and turning away to sleep. He switched off the light, his voice soft in the darkness. “Good night.”

Next Chapter

[shyvioletcat]

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 10

~ Co-host/Guest Star with Chemistry ~

You might remember this fic from last year. Well, I had plans to make it a one off thing but then I couldn't help it and I got another idea. And I just want to say thank you to everyone who read the first part and loved it. It's so fun when you guys love something as much as I do. Without further delay, please enjoy Part 2 who we really and truly have to thank Rowaelin month and @rowaelinscourt for.

~~~~~

All Aelin could do was stare at her own reflection in the mirror of her dressing room vanity. She didn’t have long before she had to leave her sanctuary and face a crowd of strangers like her entire world hadn’t been rocked at its foundations. Acting was a talent she’d taken to at a very young age, the tales of her dramatics often told around the dinner table. Aelin would be fine, she’d put on one of her charismatic smiles and give her audience her all, and everything would be fine. But for now, it was only her stunned expression to keep her company. 

That was how Rowan found her however long later, silent and still as her mind was whirring with thoughts of the future. Aelin had lost track of the minutes spent doing absolutely nothing, and as Rowan appeared in the mirror she startled, a hand flying to her chest as if to stop her heart from flying out of her chest. 

“Holy gods, you scared me,” she breathed as Rowan removed his cap and kissed her on the cheek. 

“I’m sorry, love,” Rowan murmured onto her skin as he kissed her again. When he noticed she still hadn’t moved, not in the slightest, to look at him or seek out another kiss his voice changed from teasing to concern. “Are you all right?”

Aelin finally found the compulsion to move, swivelling in her makeup chair to face Rowan. It was always infinitely more pleasant when he could come to the studio without the threat of being in front of the camera. Not as exciting for her, but she was still happy to see him. When he came to visit her here Rowan had to sneak in and from the sheer amount of times he’d done he’d developed quite the skill for it. The tricky part was not drawing attention, and with years of practice he had the art of blending in down to a fine art. 

The key was appearing so much unlike his professional self that it would take more than a double take to place why he looked so familiar. So today with his scruffy hat hair, hoodie and stubble covered cheeks, he was a far cry from the suave and composed image he gave the camera.

Since Rowan’s last public performance here he’d been promoting his new album and gone on tour. Over the past eight months Aelin had hardly seen him except via a phone screen. The last time they had managed to see each other in person was when he had shows in Suria and snuck away when he should have been sleeping in to come see her. That was about six weeks ago.

“We have a situation,” Aelin had said, looking up at him and jerking her head towards the vanity. “And I think we have this room and that couch to blame.” 

Rowan’s brows furrowed then looked to where she had directed. His eyes went wide and he did a few double takes before his gaze finally settled on her. There was an open question in his eyes and Aelin just nodded. Then he let out a shaky laugh as he realised fully what this all meant, a hand rubbing his stubbled chin. 

“Well, I guess this changes things,” Rowan finally said. 

“Indeed it does,” Aelin confirmed. “We need a plan, and I think I have one.”

THREE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER…

Aelin always got butterflies waiting behind the curtain for the final call of action. The crowd was still humming with chatter and she could hear the last camera checks over her in-ear monitor. This time the butterflies were worse, enough to make her nauseous. Today’s show would be one to be remembered and it had taken a good amount of deceit and scheming to get here.

“Alright, Aelin,” a voice said into her ear. “Curtains open in five, four, three…”

Aelin took in a deep breath, the last two counts sounding in her head. Two, One.

The applause started and then the curtains opened, Aelin taking the ten steps forward to get to her mark. She smiled and waved while she made eye contact with a few people seated in the audience. There were cheers and whistles, and when it went on a little too long Aelin held up her hands to start quieting them down as the prompt screen undoubtedly displayed QUIET PLEASE. Once the audience had settled Aelin began her welcoming monologue. 

“Thank you so much,” she said, her smile stretching wide, and there were cheers again. “Now, now, as much as I would love to stand here and lap up every bit of your admiration, I don't get paid for that.” There was a healthy amount of laughter. “I get paid to put on a show and what a show do we have planned for today. They’re always special, what am I talking about? It reminds of something my father used to say, slightly inappropriate but I think—”

The strum of a guitar interrupted her and Aelin made sure she looked affronted even though she knew exactly what was going on. When the the chord turned into music she sent a confused look to the audience a millisecond before they broke out in raucous cheers. Aelin whirled around  to see Rowan strutting out, centrestage from where she had been standing moments before with the smallest of smug smiles on his face. He was looking down at his guitar and Aelin put her hands on her hips to show her displeasure. Rowan had the gall to wink at her. If he wasn’t careful he’d give the whole gig away. 

Even though it wasn’t his job, it was Fenrys who darted out from the wings and dropped a mic and stand in front of Rowan, and then he was gone again. It became a stand off, Rowan playing while he challenged her with a look that told her to get off his stage, even though it was her stage. 

He had to win for the whole ploy to work, so Aelin gave an overexaggerated and exasperated sigh, her hands falling to her sides as half turned to the audience as she said, “I guess I know when I’m not needed.”

It was hard, but Aelin withheld her own smile as she gave Rowan the limelight. He hadn’t stopped playing, the chords effortlessly coming from the instrument and he never missed a beat. Aelin found a spot by the foot of the low steps near her interview platform, right beside Fenrys who had decided not to head out of sight. He nudged her with his elbow and winked. Aelin tried not to look too pleased with herself. 

The tempo picked up and Rowan readied himself in front of the microphone. Aelin’s breath caught in her chest, it always did in the anticipation of the song beginning. It always happened when Rowan was about to sing. He closed his eyes, grounding himself to the melody and then his deep voice filled the studio.

I found a love, for me

Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

“Sweet?” Fenrys muttered under his breath.

Aelin tried very hard not to snort and ruin Rowan’s performance. “Artistic licence. Now hush” 

'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was.

They might not have been kids but they were young and stupid enough to mistake their mutual animosity for other feelings that were way at the other end of the spectrum. When they had admitted to their true feelings it was like Aelin’s entire world had fallen into place. Rowan was everything she wanted and she had just been too willfully ignorant to see. Thank the gods they had come to their senses. Eventually. 

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow

Your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

When you said you looked a mess

I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it

Darling, you look perfect tonight

Aelin remembered that night, Rowan had surprised her after she’d been deep cleaning her house all day. It was the first time that Rowan had seen her so dishevelled. Her cheeks had burned, he didn’t notice, just sweeping into her kitchen to make dinner. They had sat outside, eating on a blanket, and after Rowan had pulled her to her feet to dance under the night’s sky, the cooling grass beneath their feet. 

The backing curtain rose, revealing a small band to accompany Rowan and his guitar playing. The music swelled to new heights and Aelin was reminded of just how much she loved this song.

Well, I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a lover, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

Unconsciously Aelin’s hand drifted to her stomach. It was an unconscious gesture, but how could she not when he was singing about that. 

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this

Darling, you look perfect tonight

When the instrumental bridge began Rowan stopped playing, letting the backing band have their moment. Confused, Aelin sent him a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. He just pulled his guitar over his head, walked over and handed it over to Fenrys. Before Aelin could even ask aloud about whatever was going on right now Rowan had taken her hand and spun her into a dance. Fenrys’ laugh was audible and she knew they must have looked quite the sight. It was hard not to melt into his embrace, which came to her so naturally in this moment. They were still on camera, and they had images to maintain. Her the larger than life social star, he the cold and callous musician, although with this break in character Rowan’s was very quickly unravelling. Aelin knew this song by heart, he’d played it for her enough, so she knew when he had danced too long for that standard interlude, but the band covered him.

He did dance her back over to her spot by the stage before it was too obvious that he was stalling and took his guitar back. Rowan was effortlessly able to join back in, his voice impassioned as he started the final rendition of the chorus. 

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark

With you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass

Listening to our favourite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

By the gods he did. With everything that he had been through and what he had given to Aelin without question, he deserved every bit of happiness they had together. As her thoughts ran off the music slowed, Rowan closing out the song, strumming the last few chords himself and ending it on a truly acoustic note. 

You look perfect tonight

The applause was deafening, and Aelin joined in. Like he always did, Rowan went a little shy when accepting the adoration being rained down on him. His cheeks went a delectable shade of pink and he nodded at the crowd who just kept clapping. Aelin gave Fenrys a jab in the arm to get him moving off camera and out of the way. Knowing the camera was now on her, Aelin put on her signature teasing smirk, clapping as Rowan approached. Gods damn him, but he held out his hand like the gentleman to help her up the miniscule steps. His back was to the camera, convenient as he scowled at the towering heels she’d chosen to wear today. He would say they were a safety concern, Aelin was adamant they made her outfit.

They sat in the arms chairs, sinking into the plush cushions. Their eyes were on each other while they waited for the commotion to die down enough for the interview to start. Rowan must have made quite the impression because it took the QUIET PLEASE flashing longer than usual for the audience to follow the instruction. When they finally did Aelin grinned. 

“How dare you interrupt my monologue,” she said. 

Rowan had assumed his cool and aloof demeanour, and he just shrugged. “That song was more heartfelt than any spiel you were about to give.”

Aelin gasped. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

In fact, she’d woken him up with soft kisses that had led to more, and he’d left bed in the best mood possible. 

“Now that song,” Aelin said, drawing out each word. “It’s a love song, and from those beautifully written, heartfelt words, it feels like it might have been written about someone special.”

“If you have a question, Aelin, just ask it,” Rowan challenged. 

She lent forward, the thrill of the game exciting her. “I have many questions. First, what can you tell me about this,” Aelin waved her hand flippantly over her shoulder, where she knew a photo from Rowan’s Instagram was being shown.  “I showed this post a few months ago and I can tell you there were more than a few broken hearts in this studio.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the audience. Aelin shot a glance at the picture, admiring the large emerald set in a gold band. Rowan couldn’t have done better in picking the perfect engagement ring for her, Aelin had hated that she hadn’t been able to wear it and to show it off. The only public admittance of their relationship was this photo and because it only showed Aelin’s hand she had remained anonymous. There was just the widespread devastation that Rowan Whitethorn was officially off the market, the media sent into a tizzy because no one knew who his mystery woman was. It cost them both an exorbitant amount in NDAs but somehow they had managed to keep it all out of the public eye.

“My favourite comment is this one: WTF But you and Aelin! I shipped the two of you so hard. You’ve broken my heart,” Aelin read. “How could you break their heart like that, Rowan? Have you no compassion?”

“I don’t know how people can see the way we interact and imagine us together,” Rowan said.

“Shipping is the word you’re looking for,” Aelin explained. “You may be too old to be down with the lingo, unfortunately.”

Rowan scoffed, selling his arrogance. “I could say the same about you, I doubt kids today know what the word lingo means.”

“At least I’m not as old as you,” Aelin threw in a little bite to her words to make her anger believable. “I have that going for me amongst all my other admirable and desirable qualities.”

“If you say so.” She saw Rowan fighting his smile but he kept his composure in the end. “You just like anything that draws attention to you. Never mind how ridiculous and unfounded that attention might be.”  

“I see falling in love hasn’t done any favours to you manners,” Aelin teased.

“Maybe it’s just you, Aelin. You seem to make it your mission to make me as nasty as I can be." Rowan sounded both impatient and offended, a practised tone for him.

“What can I say, I love to ruffle your feathers. And It’s not my fault they’re so easily ruffled,” Aelin countered. “But I should at least offer my congratulations. An engagement is one thing but I’m more interested in what comes after.”

A video played on the large screen behind the two of them, the song Rowan had just sung playing again in lower quality with just him and his guitar. Aelin watched the grainy video footage, seeing him dressed in dark pants with the buttons of is white shirt rolled to his elbows, the rest of his features were blurred by the terrible quality of the camera work. His stand out feature was his voice as he sang to an unknown figure. The heads of the guests obscured the view of who that was, the only thing that was seen of her was her hands dancing above her head for a few moments. Fenrys had done a wonderful job purposefully terrible camera work.

There were some murmurs from the audience as they put together the other pieces of information the video showed them. It was more than clear what this delightful snippet was from, but Aelin began the dance anyway.

“That looks like you’re at a wedding,” she said. 

“My own, in fact,” Rowan confirmed. There were a few cheers at that, the news wasn’t new. It had been hard won but they had managed to fully control what information had gone out about the special event. “You should know, you were there.”

This time there were a few surprised gasps and muttering of what. The animosity between Aelin and Rowan was notorious, and although some tabloids tried to put a flirtatious spin on it it never seemed to stick. Their feuding held more entertainment and money. 

“I wasn’t invited directly, I came as a plus one for a very important guest.” Aelin lent back in her chair, consciously keeping her hands on the arms of it. “It was a magical affair and a wonderful night. I must say though, I think you could  have done better. You’re worth millions after all.”

Rowan’s eyebrows rose with indignant surprise. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well, the venue for starters,” Aelin said. “It felt like a prison inside, all those high walls and artificial lighting. Why were we punished for your success?”

“I’m a private man, as you well know. There’s certain things I can’t compromise on to maintain it.”

“And the colour scheme,” she made a disgusted sound. “So basic. Green and gold? Sounds like the colour scheme for a sports team.”

There was a chuckle from Rowan at that. “I didn’t know you paid attention to such things.”

“You’d be surprised at what I pay attention to,” Aelin said with a flirtatious wink. “That dress. Stunning. Couldn’t have chosen a more stunning piece of art.”

“At least you have one positive thing to say,” even though he sounded completely unimpressed. “She was stunning as ever, even though wedding planning did make her kind of a diva.”

Aelin lent a hand on her chin, a smile quirking up the side of her mouth even though she wanted to insist the contrary. “Pity about that, though I’d say your temperaments match. Or more likely she realised it was your sorry ass that she was marrying and didn’t want you to face the embarrassment of being left at the altar. I think you should thank her for that kindness.”

“Anything else that didn’t meet your expectations, your Highness?” Rowan made sure to add an edge of mocking to his voice, but Aelin could see the mirth dancing in his eyes. 

Aelin tapped her chin, sending a conspiring look to the audience as they sat on the edge of their seats waiting for her next biting quip. “The wine, I would have chosen better.” That held some truth, because Aelin hadn't exactly participated in the trying before buying. 

“You didn’t even drink any,” Rowan said, almost ruining everything by laughing. They would need to wrap this up quickly before he gave them away completely. This man couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. 

“That,” she drew the word out as a warning, “was because I heard it was so terrible I didn’t even bother with it. Now let’s get back to your lovely little song.”

“If you’d like,” Rowan added callously. 

In return Aelin sent him a wry smile. “I understand it was for your wife. A serenade for her on your wedding day.”

Rowan just nodded. There was a call of but who is she from the audience. Host and guest both pointedly ignored it. 

“The lyrics are beautiful, and obviously come from the heart. She must be a very lucky woman to have your devotion.” Then Aelin turned towards the audience. “Who knew Rowan Whitethorn could be such a softy, even his vows had me in tears.”

There was no word of a lie there. As Rowan had declared his love to her, and promised to honour and care for them as long as he lived, Aelin couldn’t keep back the tears. Her father had to pass her his pocket square so she could dab the tears away without ruining her makeup. 

“Over all, it was quite the party,” Aelin said. 

Rowan snuck her a secret smile. “It was.”

“I’d say the party really started once the bride and groom left,” Aelin mused.

“Did it just?” Rowan said in that dry way of his.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, trying not to remember too vividly how they had gone back to their room and really celebrated lest she blush on camera. “Your presence has that kind of impact.”

Rowan had to look down to hide most of his smile as he shook his head at her antics. It really was time to wrap it up before he lost all restraint and just blurted everything out because Aelin teased too hard and he bit too quickly. 

“Where is your shiny new wedding ring anyway? It just about blinded me at the reception,” Aelin said. 

This was the predetermined phrase that would uncover them at last. For nearly two years Aelin and Rowan had managed to keep their relationship private and out of the public eye. They were about to undo all their hard work, but it was about time and most definitely worth it. Bringing their relationship to light would save them from all the speculation and rumours that continuously surrounded them. Not completely, there would always be gossip of cheating and the like, but it would be nice not to hide anymore. 

Rowan shifted so that he could reach into his back pocket and then showed off his ring, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “I took it off to play, didn’t want it getting in the way.”

Even though they had no idea what they were anticipating, the audience seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. Rowan slipped his ring onto his finger then looked right at Aelin. 

“I’ve got yours, too,” Rowan said, this time reaching into the pocket over his heart. There was tittering from the audience, Aelin struggled to keep her face neutral. “I found them on the bathroom counter, I thought you might want them.”

The was a singular, very high pitched WHAT from someone in the audience. Rowan held out his hand to her, palm up with the emerald on full display. 

Biting her bottom lip to stop her grin was futile and Aelin only had eyes for Rowan as she said, “Thank you, but I’d left them there on purpose.”

Rowan was grinning too, his eyes darting down to her stomach. “Why?”

“Well, I couldn’t get them on,” Aelin said casually, risking a glance at her audience who looked like they were ready to explode. “My fingers were too swollen. Tends to happen when you’re pregnant.”

Absolutely pandemonium broke out. Aelin stood, watching as the audience collectively lost their mind and smoothed her hands over her dress, showing off the small bump she had hidden beneath. Everyone was on their feet, cheering and clapping, there were whistles and a few screams. She smiled, caressing her bump affectionately again. It had been difficult but they had managed to keep the pregnancy out of public knowledge. A few of the tabloids had run stories about her looking pregnant but when nothing came of it, they just gave up. Aelin had faced pregnancy allegations every other week for years, this time it wasn’t a lie. She was just too good at keeping secrets. A baby had been a surprise, to say the least, but not at all an unwelcome one. The wardrobe department had a hard time dressing her lately in an attempt to hide the pregnancy and to keep her comfortable. Even more NDAs were handed out over it.

And then Rowan stood too, off script. He swept an arm around her waist and she went willingly into his embrace. Rowan tucked her hair behind her ear and gave her a sweet smile, the kind that was just for her, his eye crinkling in the corner. When he kissed her Aelin let him, returning it fervently. It was probably too amorous for day time television but Aelin couldn’t find it in herself to care—not when Rowan whispered I love you and looked at her like that. 

Once the chaos died down Rowan had been sent off and Aelin had to focus on her real job, Getting through the rest of the show had been a feat. As soon as Rowan had left the stage Aelin pretended like nothing had happened. The next segment had been promoting various popular books, followed by video chatting a school telling them her studio was providing them with iPads. All in all, it was a fantastic show, but now that it was over she was free to return to her dressing room.

Rowan was waiting for her, arm draped over the back of the couch and looking far too good. Aelin tried not to slam the door but her excitement got the better of her. Kicking off her heels she wasted no more time before climbing into Rowan’s lap, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him. His hands went to her waist, his thumbs brushing over her sides. 

When they finally broke apart Rowan said, “You could have let up a little.”

“I’m still mad about it being a shotgun wedding,” Aelin pulled back and narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know if it was the hormones or purely the lyrics but I had to blink back the tears.”

“How is that my fault? You’ve heard that song a hundred times.” Rowan was giving her a look that only insisted that part was not his fault.

Aelin ignored it completely. “And you almost gave it away so many times, like when you told the world I wasn’t drinking.”

Rowan's deep chuckle rumbled through his chest and he urged her closer. “We were heading in a wedding direction anyway. We just needed a little bit of a push. You can’t blame me for getting a little excited over telling everyone.”

His hand rested over her stomach, right over the tiny thing that had given them much more than a little push. Finding out that they were pregnant had accelerated all the plans they had for their future. They didn’t see the point in waiting to get engaged or prolonging the time between that and a wedding. They had chosen each other, and like their vows had said, they were in this together until whatever end. Still, the joke of the shotgun wedding was too funny to let go of, and there had also been the fact she hadn’t been able to wear her engagement ring outside the house. It was beautiful and deserved to be shown off. 

The feeling of Rowan’s lips making their way up her neck drew her back to the present. “I worked it out.”

“Worked what out?” Rowan asked but wasn’t deterred by her shift in topic and kissed her jaw.

“That we most likely conceived on this very couch,” Aelin explained. “You were busy with your tour and I checked the dates and you were only in town for those few days.”

Rowan stopped kissing her to laugh. “Is this a lucky couch then?”

“Hmm, I dunno,” Aelin said, her hand slipping into his hair tugging it just the way he liked. “I certainly like to get lucky on it.”

Rowan groaned, leaning in so that scrape his teeth over the sensitive skin of her neck. “Did you lock the door?”

The words were whispered onto her skin and made Aelin shiver. All resolve lost, she melted against Rowan, sighing as his hands wandered over her body. Gods, she needed him, her blood still thrumming from all the excitement of the interview. And she could feel how much Rowan needed her, a teasing roll of her hips only intensifying the situation. 

“There’s no need,” Aelin said and Rowan pulled back enough to see his face. “To quote our dear friend Fenrys, after all that foreplay no one would even risk disturbing us right now.”

Rowan’s grin was near feral. “No more wasted time then.”

They both moved, meeting in the middle for a kiss that set every fire within them blazing. The couch it seemed, would prove to be more than useful yet again. And like Aelin had said, lessons had been learned and no one interrupted them… this time.

~~~~~

Hope you like that one! I know I certainly did

[mechformers]

Ma Miles - Ch. 17

9.5k words

Chapter warning: Oh gosh, where do I even start... Wound cleaning and dressing, "sponge bath", grief, panic attack, Mo'at should be a warning in and of herself lol, what did I even write??? I am not responsible for anything that happens in chapter 17 alright! Oh, boner alert... Come to think of it - I guess Quaritch's horrible flirting should be a warning too

So... this got a bit longer and later than I had intended lol I would absolutely love any and all comments you would want to give me, be it a clean "neat" or an unintelligible long ramble!

(If you want to be tagged with the updated chapters, please leave your @ myusername in the comments! )

Previous chapter | Masterpost | Chapter 18

The sea gently laps against the roots below your kelku, the sound soothing as you sit cross-legged in your nest, staring down at your sleeping son while you run your fingers over your songcord, the new beads bringing deep sorrow to your heart. Pressing your voice through your lips, the sound fills the kelku as you sing, remembering each bead as you go. Spider smiles in his sleep and it makes your heart soar within your chest. Your son was safe once more, removed from the dangers that had surrounded you for far too long. Finishing your songcord, you’re surprised to see Jake Sully standing in the doorway, a conflicted expression on his bruised face. Smiling gently at him, you welcome him to sit by your nest with a nod of your head.

“Are they -” Jake tries, his voice breaking as he tries to reel in the conflict raging within him, “The addition was beautiful, I’m sorry I listened in on it without your permission,”

“Who they were with us meant something to me, Jake Sully,” You hum as you look down at the bead between your fingers that represents the recom unit.

“Just call me Jake, Y/n. We have known each other long enough by now,” Jake offers, his voice gentle as he watches you turn the bead between your fingers once more. “How is he?”

“The demon has not moved,” You growl pathetically as your ears flatten against your skull and your tail trashes angrily behind you.

“Yeah, he had that effect on people,” Jake chuckles softly even though he looks uncomfortable.

“What effect?” You huff out a little harsher than you had intended to.

“The anger and frustration that you’re feeling, I don’t think there’s anyone he’s ever crossed paths with who hasn’t felt the same,” The words are meant to bring you comfort, yet, as the realization sets in, it only brings you immense sadness.

Had the demon really been like this to everyone he ever met? Had he really had no one by his side that he could have been himself with? He must have… He managed to create Spider with a mate, after all. The thought sours your mood even more as your tail thrashes behind you. His unit seemed fond of him too, so he couldn’t have been completely alone.

“Tell me about him,” You hear yourself saying, your desperation to know more, to grab and hold onto anything that would point somewhere in the direction that all of this was just one big misunderstanding, clear in your voice.

“About the Colonel?” Jake does a double take, his eyes widening.

“Yes, tell me about him,” You confirm, turning your hopeful eyes to him, “Please,”

“Um… I don’t know what there is to say. You obviously know the important details,” Jake starts, his eyebrows furrowing with unease.

“That is not the important details. Who was he when he was not this Colonel?” You plead with him, the passion in your voice obviously enough to sway him.

“I didn’t know him for very long, but in the time before our relationship turned sour, he was a decent enough guy. Typical bonehead Marine, stern, direct, but behind all of that, he took care of his own,” Jake starts before taking a deep sigh. You smile at the way you recognize what Jake is describing.

“He would always go that extra mile for his people - for his family. But there was always this thing looming over him, a pressure that always had him moving forward, never quite standing still. If he wasn’t training the troops, giving safety briefings, or being in meetings, he was cooped up in his office doing paperwork until late at night.” The way Jake describes him makes the same sad feeling from before drape over you again. What Jake was describing was not a life…

“When he wasn’t at the base, he was always on the move. You see, Quaritch led from the frontline, always taking the first step to pave the path for his people, to make sure that it was the right line of motion.” Jake huffed before immediately freezing, the fond memory obviously not one he expected to have.

“Quaritch made a lot of horrible decisions as head of security for the RDA, but he always looked for the right path to take, the one that would lead to the smallest amount of casualties on both sides. You see, in basic training, you're taught to make quick decisions under fire. To view everything through the pinhole of surviving the moment.” Jake got a far-off look in his eyes and you got the feeling that there was more to the words than what you were talking about right now.

“When none of your choices are good, you make the best of the bad ones. There's no room for second-guessing. No time for regret.” Jake continues before meeting your eyes head-on, ”That comes later. A luxury for the living, so to say."

“Quaritch was no exception. I could see it in his eyes after a bad mission. It was in the way he snapped at people or avoided the big bosses at all possible costs. He would try his best to hide it, but it was in everything he did for many days after.” The words felt hollow as Jake spoke them. Although you understand them, you can't quite wrap your head around the action behind them.

“Why did he not refuse to do these missions?” You can’t help but ask, immediately noticing how Jake shakes his head as he huffs a humorless chuckle.

“It didn’t - doesn’t - work like that, Y/n.” He quickly corrects himself and you get the dawning feeling that he’s speaking from experience. “Once you got a job that paid well enough, you needed to dig your claws in to keep it. Earth, the planet we were from, has become hostile, our Great Mother brutally murdered by the greed of the few, and the desperation to simply just survive of the many. If you were lucky enough to get a job on Pandora, you made sure to keep it. Besides, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. Everyone is replaceable for the RDA - if Quaritch had refused, another, possibly worse, person would have simply just taken his place and done it anyway,”

What Jake says is disturbing, sending chills down your spine. Did the sky people really treasure life that poorly? Did they really just replace each other if someone refused to do what was obviously wrong? You stare back at Jake with big eyes as the silence stretches on.

“You know, I hadn’t really thought about it that way before,” Jake starts, another conflicted look crossing his face. “Quaritch valued loyalty above all else, didn’t matter who you were or who you had been. When he accepted you into his unit, that was a clean slate for you, a new chance at life for when you rotated back home.”

“His values do not excuse his actions,” Mo’at grounds from behind you, making the both of you turn your heads in her direction, only to see Tonowari standing by her side with his arms crossed.

“Tsahìk,” You greet Mo’at, before looking at Tonowari, “Olo’eyktan, I see you,”

“How is your son?” Tonowari asks, his uncertain eyes looking at Spider’s sleeping form.

“Spider is doing well, Olo’eyktan,” Your little kelku feels crowded with the five of you inside, but it means little when Mo’at huffs and presses past Tonowari.

“Spider is going to be a great hunter, a mighty warrior. You do not need to worry about him,” Your Tsahìk looks so proud as she speaks about your son, her head held high as she walks over to the supplies she left the day before. “Y/n, we have lessons to get to,”

“Yes, Tsahìk,” You mumble as you hurry over to her side, bending your head as you pass Tonowari.

“I guess that is our cue to leave,” Jake chuckles as he gets to his own feet.

“I specifically remember giving you an order to be with your family today, to not let me see you moving around,” Tonowari rumbles as he crosses his massive arms over his equally massive chest while pinning Jake with a harsh stare.

“What can I say, my friend…” Jake grins as he spreads his arms, palms up.

“How Neytiri deals with you is beyond me,” Tonowari chuckles, rolling his eyes as he shakes his head. Wrapping an arm around Jake’s shoulders, the bigger man steers Jake’s smaller body out of the marui pod.

“How has his rest been?” Mo’at asks while laying supplies on a woven mat before her.

“His rest has been sure, Tsahìk,” You reply before sitting down beside her, taking the mortar she has offered you.

“And yours?” Mo’at’s knowing eyes pierce through you as you sigh deeply.

“Troubled,” You eventually respond honestly, knowing that the older woman would know whether you replied or not.

“If you are to heal the demon, you will need to be rested. I do not share my lessons with just anyone, Y/n” Mo’at’s voice leaves no room for argument.

If you were being honest with yourself, you felt gratitude for getting the chance to learn from the Tsahìk herself. With no particular skills of your own, you had been shuffled around to where there was a need for extra hands, your whole life. It wasn’t as if you were untalented, you just hadn’t found the right path for you. But maybe going through tsakarem, for however long it would be taught to you, would be the missing link in your life, finally offering you a chance to be useful to your clan.

For the following week, Mo’at teaches you how to crush ingredients into different textures, teaches you what herbs would help with healing wounds specific to the demon’s injuries, and how to assess his condition throughout the day as he lay unconscious. It’s incredibly hard work, but somehow, you make it work. Spider is gone most of the day anyway, so instead of sitting alone in the kelku to watch over the demon, you welcome the older woman’s guidance.

“You have done well,” Mo’at hums one afternoon after you cleaned and redressed the demon’s wounds.

Whatever Mo’at was feeding him sure kick-started his weight gain. As if you hadn’t been struggling before, the demon grew heavier and heavier with each day that went by, making cleaning his body extremely difficult. The awkward positions you had found yourself in while buckling under his weight would have you blushing for years to come. Mo’at’s voice still rings clear in your ears when she commented that modesty had no room in a Tsahìk’s life. Sighing deeply, you had powered through, but with his growing deadweight, it had taken longer and longer to complete the task.

“Wait, was that an actual compliment I heard?” Jake’s voice calls from the doorway, his grin spreading lazily across his face as he looks at Mo’at.

The older woman huffs fondly, the smallest of smiles pulling on her lips while she tries to ignore her daughter’s mate. Jake chuckles as he walks further inside, his long legs swaying lazily as he comes to a crouch before you.

“Do you need help with him?” He smiles down at you as you struggle to lift the demon into place.

“She must need to learn how to do this alone,” Mo’at hums as she walks around your kelku, her eyes sharp following your every move as you struggle to get the demon back in his makeshift nest.

“I’m fine, Jake,” You smile up at him as you shift your hold on the demon, “Thank you,”

“Alright,” Jake just chuckles as he looks up at Mo’at.

“Can you take Y/n to the cove of ancestors?” Mo’at asks, making both of your heads snap to her position by the seaside opening of the marui pod.

“Y-yeah, sure,” Jake replies, his voice breaking a little. Curiosity is written all over his face, but he knows better than to ask by now, something you do not.

“The cove of ancestors?” You repeat questioningly, watching as Mo’at turns to you, her all-seeing eyes pinning you to the woven mat you’re kneeling on.

“You will know when you arrive, Eywa will show you the way,” The reply doesn’t make sense at all, but when Mo’at motions for you to get up to your feet, you do.

“When you have found what you’re looking for, spend the rest of your day with your son. I will watch over the demon,” You’re not about to be told twice, so as your ears twitch excitedly, you get to your feet, and with one last look back at the den, you leave your kelku behind for the first time since you arrived.

Walking beside Jake, you let your eyes fall on the beautiful marui pods that make the village. They’re decorated in beautifully vibrant colors, with shells, stones, and everything else the sea would willingly offer the Metkayina. The sand is warm and wet when you step down from the woven mats that made the bridges between each marui pod. You can’t help but dig your toes into it, grinning childishly as you chuckle.

“You’ve probably never ridden an ilu before, so we’ll take my skimwing. She will get us there quicker.” Jake grins over at you, so obviously knowing something that you don’t.

“I have seen the ilu outside of our kelku, but I have never ridden one,” You confirm, only making Jake grin wider.

“You will love the skimwing then,” This childishly excited side of Jake is new to you, one you have never seen before while he served your people as the Olo’eyktan. You decide then and there that you like this side of him.

You do not, however, like the skimwing. Clutching onto Jake’s middle, he howls with laughter as the skimwing quickly takes you in and out of the water as she flies. It’s quick, it’s challenging and it’s absolutely nothing like riding an ikran. At that moment as you’re plastered to Toruk Makto, you wish you had called for Hawnu instead. When you eventually come to a stop though, the scenery takes your breath away. The last time you had been here, Hawnu had flown low with the small ship behind him while you desperately clutched onto Neteyam’s body, and the time before…

“It’s beautiful,” You whisper in awe as Jake greets a small family as they swim past you on their ilus.

“Isn’t it?” Jake hums back, leaning back now that the skimwing slows down. “The first time I was here, we held a funeral without a body,”

Your gasp comes involuntarily. Clutching his shoulder, you don’t know what to say to him as you move further into the cove, the floating rocks paving way for the beauty that lay within. Letting your eyes roam the huge cove, you realize that it looks so much different than you remembered. Like Jake, you had held your own funeral without the bodies needed to connect with the Great Mother.

“Come on,” Jake turns back and smiles gently at you before breaking tsaheylu with his skimwing.

“When we get down there, I’ll give you a txampaysye, it will help you breathe underwater. Make tsaheylu with it and it will breathe for you,” Jake explains, a gentle smile on his face.

“I will not need one, Jake. I have already been down there nine times before. I will not struggle with the journey,” Swallowing audibly, Jake’s eyebrows furrow before he reaches out to squeeze your knee.

“Alright, come on then,” Nodding, you slide off of the skimwing, taking deep breaths before you let yourself sink beneath the water's surface.

Following Jake’s lead, you swim down until you reach the glowing spirit tree. It’s just as beautiful as you remembered it to be, but this time, you have the chance to really look at its surroundings. Letting your eyes roam around the gorgeous area, you notice how Jake has already connected to Ranteng Utralti. You wonder who it is he’s visiting, perhaps a friend lost in a battøe that should have never been. Tsu’tey’s name comes to mind as you make your way over to one of its vines. The two had become brothers before the final battle and through the years, you knew that both Jake and Neytiri missed him.

Connecting to Ranteng Utralti, you’re immediately brought back to a place you knew all too well. Grinning, you let yourself walk forward as you approach the childish group of recoms currently splashing water at each other in the pond. Z-Dog and Brown balance on the log bobbing in the water as Lopez, and Prager float in the water below them. They’re all grinning and laughing as they try to be something called a “king of the mountain”.

Turning back, you’re prepared to see the rest of the unit lounging on the bank, but to your surprise, only Seanfike stares back at you, the man sitting cross-legged as his tail slaps happily behind him. Narrowing your eyes, you can’t help the way your ears pin back flat against your skull. Something wasn’t right…

“What’s wrong?” Seanfike immediately asks, noticing your worried face.

“Where are the others?” You ask him, seeing how his own face furrows in confusion.

“What do you mean? They’re right behind you,” Seanfike points to the recom’s playing in the pond behind you.

“No, where is Lyle?” You start, but a grin spreads across Seanfike’s face as he chuckles at something behind you.

“Seanfike, please listen,” You press, desperation clutching your chest, “Where are Mansk, Ja, and Lyle?”

“I dunno, they’re probably around here somewhere. Haven’t really seen them in a while,” He eventually replies, confusion deeply etched into his face. “Why?”

A heavy feeling grows inside of you as you realize that they hadn’t been accepted by the Great Mother. Your attempt at putting their souls to rest failed as their bodies had never been united with Eywa. Your chest hurts as you feel tears pressing from your eyes. There’s a wail building in your chest, but below water, as you were, your mouth only fills with water. Distressed, Seanfike clutches your shoulders as Brown’s head comes to rest on your shoulder. All around you, the recom unit, what was left of them crowded you, wrapping their arms around you to hold you close.

“Breathe,” Brown whispers, his gentle voice stinging like a blade against your skin.

You’re roughly pulled from the vine you’re attached to, Jake’s scared eyes pulling at your body to take you up again, but you pull away from him. Struggling underwater, Jake suddenly freezes as he looks behind you, his eyebrows furrowing at something. Turning, your eyes go wide at what you see. From the glowing golden tendrils of Ranteng Utralti, four songcords flat upward, as if presented as something sacred.

To you, they were…

Kicking your legs, you reach for the rejected songcords as you glide through the water. Clutching them to your chest, you curl in on yourself as sorrow overtakes you. Eywa had accepted them, had held them within her warmth until you came and ruined everything. Distantly, you realize that you’re being pulled to the surface, but it isn’t before you’re hauled onto a rock and your lungs desperately gasp for air that you register it.

Coughing and gasping, you wail mournfully as you’re gathered up into warm arms. A hand smooths your wet hair back from your face as you’re rocked, but all you can think about is the songcords clenched tightly in your hands. Other Metkayina gathers around you with sympathetic looks on their faces as they ask Jake what they can do to help, or if they can get the Olo’eyktan. But Jake just shakes his head as he holds you through your heartache.

By the time eclipse arrives, Jake has managed to get you back to the village, his gentle hand leading you out of the water where Spider and Tonowari stand waiting for you. Your son meets you before you’ve managed to emerge fully, his small hand clutching onto the leather of your tweng. Shifting the songcords to one hand, you offer the free one to Spider, feeling how he immediately takes it in his. Although your heart is heavy, you find comfort in his small, warm hand as he clings to yours.

The communal meal goes by in a blur, your son’s worried eyes following your every move. You know that he wants to ask about the songcords still clutched tightly in your hand, but like you, he waits until you’re ready to talk, giving you the time you need to collect your thoughts. Jake and Tonowari keep sending you worried looks, even Ronal looks your way once, her knowing eyes lingering on you before turning away again. It feels like a relief when Spider eventually finishes his meal and you’re able to excuse yourselves from the clan.

Walking hand in hand, you slowly lead Spider down the woven bridges to your kelku, the flickering lights from inside greeting you as you let your son enter first. Taking a deep breath, you follow through, closing the flap behind you. Mo’at, of course, takes one look at you and immediately knows. You want to be angry at her knowledge, but you find that you’re grateful for her understanding when she nods minutely before getting up to leave you alone.

Moving about your kelku, you watch as Spider washes his feet in the little bowl on the other side, his little nighttime routine before going to sleep. Slowly, he settles down in your nest, the blankets nestled tightly around him as he cuddles up. Walking up to sit beside him, you listen as he lets out a deep, sleepy sigh. Closing your eyes, you part your lips as the first words leave your mouth.

“I couldn’t find their bodies,” You whisper, knowing that your son is listening intently. “So I made these songcords for them, hoping that the Great Mother would show them mercy and accept the offering,”

The silence feels cold inside of your kelku, the soft sound from Spider’s exopack the only noise besides the water below your marui pod. It should have been calming, but as your heart clenches painfully in your chest, you’re unable to find any real comfort in it. Turning your head to look at Spider, you see the shimmering in his beautiful brown eyes. Cupping his face in your free hand, you smile sadly at him before getting up to lie down beside him.

“Here, I will sing their cords for you,” You hum as you pull your son closer to your chest.

Sleep finds you shortly after you have finished recounting their milestones, your son’s face as he turns in your arms, surprisingly happy as he closes his beautiful eyes. Cupping the back of his head, you let your eyes drift to the songcords still clutched in the hand below Spider’s head. Closing your eyes, you don't even notice when you drift off, leaving the stress and heartache of the day behind.

It’s another early morning when you wake up the next day. Your body feels heavy as you roll Spider to the side to step out of your nest, the warm glow of the sun greeting you through the cracks as you approach the flaps. Opening them, you let the fresh, salty air clean away the heaviness of sleep from your kelku. Looking down at the songcords in your hand, you sigh deeply. The Great Mother’s will was not without reason, you had to trust that.

Turning to stare at the demon, you find his songcord in your hand, turning your bead between your fingers as you make up your mind. If he could be here before you, alive and real, then Lyle, Mansk, and Ja had to be alive somewhere too. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath as you settle your resolve. Walking over to your nest, you dig until you reach the bottom of the corner that saw little use. Looking at the songcords in your hands one last time, you hide them at the bottom before arranging the nest back to how it was.

Working through your own morning routine, you gather fresh water into bowls before starting on fresh salves and pastes for the demon’s first change. For once, the demon doesn’t seem quite as heavy when you move him while cleaning his body, making your work that much easier. When Spider wakes, you’ve already finished up, the last lingering feeling of despair leaving you as your son sends a cheeky grin your way. He’s telling you about the plans he has for the day when there’s a knock on your kelku, Jake, Neteyam, and Lo’ak smiling gently at you from the outside.

“Thought some fresh food would be good,” Jake offers as you gesture for them to come inside.

Of course, Spider rushes through his breakfast before the soles of the boys feet are the only thing Jake and you see as they hightail out of your kelku, leaving only the fleeting sound of their snickering as they poke fun at something Neteyam said. The kelku falls into a comfortable silence before Jake eventually breaks it with small talk. You sit, chatting like that until it’s time to change the demon again.

Preparing what you needed, you continue to talk with Jake as you start what was now routine for you. Mixing a freshly smelling surly leaf into the water, you dip a clean cloth into it before starting to clean the demon’s arms. Jake leans back on the wall behind him as you go about cleaning the demon, changing to a new clean cloth when it’s time for his face.

“And then she looked at me as if I had grown a second set of ears,” Jake chuckles, his grin wide as he retells the story about how Neytiri had taught him the way of the people all those years ago.

“And then, what did you do?” With a grin of your own, you chuckle as you wipe the demon’s brow, letting your hand linger as you look over at Jake.

“Am I dreaming, Princess?” The demon rumbles lazily, a sappy smile forming on his lips as he lifts his hand to caress your cheek.

Snapping your head back down to look at him, your grin slips into a frown as you slap his hand away as if it burnt you. Hiss furiously at him, you get up to your feet while you drop the wet cloth in your hand. The demon was asleep just moments ago, his sleeping draft given that morning assured that. Had you managed to mess up the mixture somehow? It must be the only explanation as to why the demon was now awake. You watch as his smiling face morphs into something a little sad as his ears droop, but all you can think about is what you did wrong as your wide, scared eyes lift up to meet Jake’s equally surprised ones.

“Aww… What did I do this time, sweetheart?” The demon’s lazy rumble turns charming as he smirks up at you, a cocky grin on his face.

“Quiet your tongue, demon,” You refuse to use his English as you hiss furiously again, noting how his sad, droopy ears pin back flat against his skull instead.

“Yes, ma’am,” He hums, a fond kind of smile spreading across his lips as he closes his eyes and breaches contently.

“How are you feeling, Quaritch?” Jake asks, his voice is low, gentle even, but the reaction is still instantaneous in the demon.

His eyes pop open with both alarm and fear, and it makes something clench painfully in your chest. The demon tries to jump to his feet to get into a defensive position, the move no doubt second nature to him, but with his muscles weak from disuse and his body still exhausted from trying to heal itself, he wobbles under his weight. Still, the demon fights to get into a defensive position, swaying and stumbling as he takes a protective stand before you, pushing you behind him.

“I’m not here to fight, Quaritch,” Jake states quickly, even though anger steadily becomes evident on his face.

“Like hell, you aren’t,” The demon sneers back, his ears flat against his skull as his tail whips anxiously behind him, smacking you with every back-and-forth motion.

From behind, you can recognize how good he looks in a normal tweng, how the soft leather hugs his narrow hips, or how strong the base of his tail is. But at that moment you find that you’re done with his bullshit and the situation his presence has forced you to be in. Grabbing the base of his kuru, you kick his legs out from under him, wrestling his slightly weaker body into the makeshift nest he’s been resting in.

“You stay and you be silent,” You hiss at him furiously, the English command registering immediately as his ears lower submissively. To your surprise, the demon looks almost ashamed, the fight leaving his much bigger body as he stares up at you with big eyes, his tail twitching anxiously beside your hip.

“Yes, Ma’am,” The demon mumbles, his voice rough with disuse as he looks away, unable to meet your eyes any longer.

“Answer him,” You demand, your voice leaving no room for argument.

There’s a tense silence spreading over your kelku as the demon refuses to do anything - as if a petulant child. He’s not meeting your eyes, not even looking in Jake’s direction. He’s clutching the ribs on his right side and you get the grueling feeling that all your hard work has just been wasted on the demon. Hissing, you step over him on your way to leave when his hand desperately grabs your tail.

“Wait!” He croaks and there’s an urgency in his voice, as if he’s genuinely afraid, that has you turning around to look down at him.

The demon is still laying in his makeshift bed where you put him, only having moved enough to grab your tail. Reluctantly, he slowly lets go of your tail, as if he’s testing if you’ll flee or not. Only when you’ve stood still for what he deems long enough does he roll all the way over to his back again. There’s a battle going on within him, one that looks painful enough that you want to reach out to him, to help soothe his troubles as much as possible, but you don’t. Eventually, his conflicted eyes meet yours, as if looking for strength before they close on a deep, rugged sigh.

“I’m peachy,” The demon bites, eyes opening to stare directly at Jake.

“Skxawng,” You scold with a click of your tongue while crossing your arms over your chest.

“Alright, alright, relax already,” He grumbles, reminding you of Spider the few times you’ve had disagreements. “I’m sore, alright. Ribs hurting like shit,”

The admission seems to pain him as his face darkens with embarrassment. He still scowls at Jake in the corner of your kelku, but your immediate worry is the pain that he’s apparently in. Stepping over the demon, you grab the ingredients for the salve that would help with his pain. Sitting down beside him, you cross your legs as you start to grind the ingredients into the bowl. There’s an uncomfortable silence in the marui pod, until it’s disturbed by Spider running into your kelku, laughter in his beautiful voice as he smiles at you.

“Mom,” Spider grins, his happiness all but blinding you as you look up, just in time to see your son’s smile dropping from his face as he freezes, only for Neteyam to run into him from behind.

“Yo, what’s up, bro?” Neteyam snickers as he sidesteps Spider, only to stop dead in his tracks. “D-dad…”

Jake reaches out for his oldest son, offering support when he recognizes fear in his voice. Neteyam grabs his father’s hand before quickly stepping closer to him, but the demon doesn’t care. His initial reaction was a slight widening of his eyes, but just as quickly as his eyes shifted to Neteyam, they’re back on your son again.

“Spider,” The demon croaks, voice pleading. He doesn’t dare to move, but his ears rotate, open and alert, to your son as he stares.

“Come,” You tell him, looking at the spot beside you while still crushing the ingredients into a smooth salve. “Sit,”

“We will be fine, Jake,” You look up at Toruk Makto, noting how his chest has puffed out, his legs spread wide as he covers his son protectively.

“You sure? It’s no trouble staying, Y/n,” Jake assures you, and even though you know he would like to take his son anywhere but here, you know that if you needed him to stay, he would.

“There are words that need to be said between us,” You sigh, feeling the emotional turmoil that this is taking on you weighing heavily on your shoulders as you come to the conclusion that maybe your son shouldn’t be here for this conversation after all. “Will you take Spider with you?”

Nodding, Jake gently leads Neteyam and Spider through the doors, spearing one last look at the demon before disappearing from view. You have no doubt in his mind that he will be back soon, if only under the disguise of having forgotten something. Sighing, you continue the grind, watching as the paste turns creamy and then, finally, a smooth light green salve.

“Point to where the pain is,” You snap quickly at the demon, breaking the silence that once more had spread across your kelku.

“Slower,” The demon rumbles, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Pain. Point,” You growl, your impatience bleeding over into annoyance when he sighs.

“Here,” He points to his right side, just below his nipple, “And here,”

Nodding your head, you crouch over him, spreading your legs over his hips before sitting down on the meat of his thighs. To feel the demon’s warm skin against the inside of your sensitive thighs brings a lump to your throat, but shortly after, you’re pulled out of your thoughts when the demon growls.

“The hell?” The growl is dangerously deep as he gets up to his elbows, wincing at the pressure it gives his ribs. “The fuck are my clothes, woman?”

The sharpness of his yellow eyes sends butterflies through your stomach, but you refuse to make it excite you. The demon had made his nest, now he needed to lay in it.

“Gone.” You huff down at him, narrowing your eyes.

“What do you mean gone?” He bites back just as quickly, his own eyes narrowing.

“When I found you, you had soiled yourself. Your tweng could not be saved,” He doesn’t understand what you’re saying, his face all twisted as he tries to make sense of it.

“My twe- The hell you saying, woman?” The demon tries to sit up, but you easily push him back down again, noticing how the motion brings him pain.

“Like a baby, you dirty your tweng,” You repeat, this time in English so that he’ll understand.

You don’t have to wait long for him to do so. Almost immediately, his eyes go wide as his face turns dark, his eyebrows narrowing while he clenches his jaw shut. He doesn’t meet your eyes, instead deciding to stare at something else on your face.

“You mean to say that you undressed me while I was out like a light?” His voice is dangerously even when he speaks and had you still feared him, you would have probably backed off of him.

“I do not know this meaning,” You huff back at him, holding your ground.

“You fucking took my clothes off and dressed me in this shit,” The demon raises his voice as he sneers at you from below, his ears slicked back against his skull.

“Would you have preferred to wear soiled armor?” The deadpan comeback makes the demon growl angrily.

“Wha- in English, woman!” The demon huffs, his frustration only growing.

“Should I take you here with a dirty tweng?” The reaction is, once more, immediate. The demon growls furiously, his despair so easy to read as he cups his hands over his tweng.

Huffing at his ridiculous modesty, you lower your body once more, sitting down on the meat of his thighs. Slapping his hands away from his tweng, you watch as he immediately covers it with his hands again. You do not understand what it is he’s doing, so you slap his hands away again, only for the demon to cover his tweng again, his face growing an even darker shade. Grabbing his wrists, you tear them away from the front of his tweng, pinning them to the makeshift nest below him, only for the demon to snap them right back again.

“Stop it,” You hiss at him, your ears folding back in annoyance.

“You stop it!” The demon’s voice is high, almost childish as he looks up at you. He’s still not able to meet your eyes.

“You are like a child,” Grabbing his wrists once more, you tear them away while he fights you. In the end, his weakened state makes him lose the battle. “Do not move, demon.”

Huffing, the demon turns his head to look away from you. It finally gives you the space you need to work. Leaning over him, you spread your hands over the demon’s pectorals, fanning your fingers until your thumbs meet in the middle. You try to feel if his lungs expand equally, but the demon only takes shallow breaths, as if he’s consciously fighting you every step of the way.

“Deep breaths,” You tell him and to your utter surprise, he follows your command without complaining.

Guiding him through the examination Mo’at had taught you, you’re surprised that he doesn’t fight you. He states motionless as you press your fingers down his sternum, checking for tenderness in and around his chest wall. With a finger between each of his ribs, you percuss while listening for hyperresonant sounds. The demon hisses when you reach his right side, but otherwise stays quiet. It’s only when you scoot back to put your ear to his chest that he freezes.

“What are you doing?” He drawls, his head finally moving back to look down at you.

“Be silent and breathe regularly,” You hum back as you press your ear to his warm skin.

His heart beats loudly in his chest, almost too loud, and his breathing is too fast, but you’re still able to listen to his lungs. Moving your head further down to the bottom of his ribcage, you feel his stomach tighten against your cheek as his breath stutters.

“Oh, sweet mother,” You can hear him whisper above you, but then he manages to breathe carefully, somewhat close to what his breathing was while he was asleep.

Moving to the other side, you do the same. Sitting up again, confusion strikes you as you find the demon has screwed his eyes shut, his jaw tightly clenched as his hands have created tight fists by his side. Reaching over to take one of his hands in yours, you open the fist to hold his hand, sliding your smaller hand into his bigger one.

“Tell me, where does it hurt?” You ask him gently, only to receive a snort and a smirk in return.

“Trust me, sweetheart, you don’t want to know,” He mumbles, his drawls so thick that you struggle to understand the words. “I’m just fine, darling,”

Letting go of his hand, you move further up on the met of his thighs to get a better position. After asking him to take deep breaths, you press your fingers over his vital organs, starting under his ribs. With each exhale, you feel for any enlargements, for any tenderness. Moving further down you do the same, watching him closely just in case he wouldn’t say anything about the pain. It’s not until you put your hands on each side of the top of his hip bones that he tenses.

“Do this hurt?” You ask him as you gently make the organ move between your hands.

You only receive a gasp in return as the demon closes his eyes, his lips slightly parted and his breath becomes ragged. There’s something wrong, but he doesn’t want to tell you what it is. Moving over to the other side brings forth the same reaction. You’re about to demand he tells you where the pain is from when your hand brushes against something it should not have. Looking between your wide-spread thighs a huge bulge stares back at you from beneath the demon’s tweng. With wide eyes, your head snaps up to meet the dangerously sharp ones of the demon. His lips have parted more, the tips of his fangs visible from the plumpness of his lips. You can feel your irises dilate as the warm scent of the demon reaches your nose.

“Maybe you did want to know after all, mama,” The demon’s husky voice has dropped several octaves, the deep rumble all but rattling through your ribcage as your own core responds to his scent.

Until his words register in your suddenly foggy mind. Hissing, you jump off of him as if burned. The disappointment is clear as day when the demon flops his head down on his makeshift nest again. Stomping around your kelku, you grab your blade before walking to the door.

“Use the salve in the bowl on your pain, and drink water,” You growl before stepping outside. The fresh, salty air greets you as its warm winds caress your heated skin. It feels great.

“Trouble in paradise?” Jake chuckles softly, making you jump.

“What?” You’re caught so off guard that you don’t know what to say.

“You seem distressed, Y/n,” Jake squeezes your shoulder gently as he bends to look into your eyes.

“Would you not be distressed if you had to live with him after everything he has done?” Your words come out much harsher than you had intended to, but you find that they ring no less true than what you feel.

The demon had taken everything that you had. He had snatched every breath from your lungs, had made you feel, had made you care only to turn his back to you at the first opportunity he got. He had taken everything you taught him and used it against you. Still, when his body lay beaten and broken at death’s door, you had stood by his side. You had cleaned his body and healed his wounds while he rested. You had kept him alive when all he deserved was to be washed out in the sand, a dark moment in Na’vi history. Jake just looks at you with knowing eyes. You can no more help the sigh that leaves you than you can keep your shoulders from sagging under the weight of Jake’s hand.

By the time you get Spider, the demon has been asleep for many hours, but you still make a mental note to up the sleeping draft you mix with his water. Sighing, you watch as Spider curls into your nest, his smaller body tired after yet another day filled with new and exciting adventures. Smiling to yourself, you step over to the demon, pulling the blanket off of him. Sitting down, you start the cleaning routine, removing leaves on the deeper wounds while cleaning old salve from shallower cuts. By the time you had finished, you felt the weight of the day in your tired eyes. Curling up beside Spider, you’re happy to see that his beautiful brown eyes glitter as he stares at you. Smiling, he bumps his masked forehead to yours as he sighs happily. It doesn’t take long before you’re asleep, warm and tired as your son’s heartbeat plays the most beautiful rhythm you have ever heard in your life.

Which is why you’re so confused when you wake up to the rumbled growls of a much darker character. Turning your head, you’re met with the demon’s sharp eyes as he huffs with frustration. He hasn’t moved from his makeshift nest apart from sitting up, the blanket tightly wrapped around him. Groaning, you rub the sleep from your face as you yawn. This would apparently be another day when the demon would be awake. Annoyed, you start to plan a way to slip him more of the sleeping draft. Maybe, if you were lucky, he would drink the entire bowl and choke on -

“Woman, stop ignoring me,” The demon growls, his voice annoying in the silence of the early morning. “Where are my weapons?”

“Where I found you,” You respond lazily as you sit up in your nest to stare at him.

“The hell you mean by that, darling?" He sneers, the anger blazing in his sharp eyes.

“I left everything when I took your armor off,” You sigh, pinching the broad bridge of your nose as you pray to Eywa to give you strength.

“Now why in the ever-loving hell would you do that, sweetheart?” His voice cuts deep like a blade through the soft underbelly of a beast as his eyes narrow.

“You have no need of them,” You start, watching as his chest puffs while his face contorts into one big frown, ready to spit angrily. “But I took your blade with us. It’s in Cupcake’s bag.”

“Cupcake?” At the mention of his ikran, the demon halts, his eyes turning from angry to hopeful in a matter of seconds. “Is she alright?”

The demon’s voice is gentle when he asks, yet, the urgency behind his question shines through. He cares deeply for his ikran. The knowledge warms something deep within you, making your own annoyance bleed away.

“She is safe with Hawnu,” You confirm, offering what you hope is a comforting smile.

The demon takes a deep breath, wincing slightly before he lets out a sigh. In your own stressed state, you have failed to realize that he must have his own set of stress going on in his life. Something must have triggered his sudden change of heart. The man you had come to know, the man behind this… this unrecognizable mask, something drastic would have had to happen for him to leave all reason and just act. In the back of your mind, Jake’s words ring loud and clear. ‘When none of your choices are good, you make the best of the bad ones.’

“Thanks,” The demon mumbles, his voice calm and relieved.

You’re about to ask what happened when Spider yawns beside you. Looking down at your son you smile as his beautiful brown eyes open to greet you. Reaching forward, you brush the hair from his forehead, chuckling lightly as he swats at your hand before brushing the rest of his hair away by himself. Sitting up in your nest, his easy smile drops to one of uncertainty as he notices the demon. Looking up, you notice how the demon furrows his brows before taking a deep breath.

“Good morning, Spider,” He drawls, his voice warm and heavy, like a blanket during thunderstorms.

Spider doesn’t reply though, and although you want to tut at him for being rude, you don’t. His father had broken something sacred, something only he could make right again. The only thing you could do was to offer your son the support and safety he needed when he needed it. Getting to your feet, you offer Spider a fruit for breakfast, smiling gently at him when he slices the fruit in two and offers you the first dice of meat. Reaching forward, you cup the back of his messy head before leaning down to place a kiss on the top of his head, letting your lips linger for a moment too long before pulling back. Looking up at you, the conflict on your son’s face makes you smile sadly down at him. You wish more than anything that you could take this hardship away from him, that you could make his life as joyful as he has made yours. When he sighs and looks over to his father though, pride explodes within you at the strength you see in his small form.

But as Spider opens his mouth, no doubt to offer his father food, Neytiri and Jake enter your kelku, the older woman’s smile slipping from her face when sharp eyes meet hers. Before you’re able to react, the demon is up on his feet, staggering unsteadily as he pushes Spider and you behind him as he takes a defensive stand before you. The way he hisses sends a chill down your spine and makes the tip of your tail twitch with unease. When the deep growl leaves the cavity of his chest, an immediate biological reaction course through you, forcing you to reach out for safety while clutching your so to your side. Your heart beats wildly as you hold onto the demon’s tail, your hand gripping so hard that your fingers grow cold. Distantly, you can hear Jake tell you that everything is alright, that you’re safe, but the demon’s furious growls want nothing to do with the Toruk Makto’s words. It’s only then that your frozen body thaws, your fear bleeding out of you as Jake’s words reach your mind. Taking in the situation before you, Neytiri hisses and snarls, her blade drawn and pointing at the demon, while her mate desperately tries to calm the situation behind her.

“Get your batshit crazy wife away from my family, Corporal,” The demon sneers, his tail whipping furiously beneath your hand.

Letting go of the demon’s tail, you slap the back of his head, having understood what he just said, knowing it was not nice words.

“If you come near my son again, I will skin you alive, woman,” You have never heard him sound this venomous before, his fury sending dread through your body.

As Jake hisses in response to the threat to his mate's life, the feeling that something is wrong settles heavily in the pit of your stomach once more. Pushing Spider further behind you, you try to sidestep the demon, but his long arms keep pushing you back as he shifts his defensive stand with each move you make.

“Be nice,” You scold him, holding his arm still as you finally step out from behind him.

“You don’t know, do you?” He huffs a flat chuckle, but there’s no humor in it as his dangerously sharp eyes meet yours.

“What do I not know?” You ask confused, a heavy stone dropping in your stomach as the unease doubles up.

“How she held our son at knifepoint, how she ran her blade across his chest, drawing blood before going in for the killing blow,” The demon’s words are spat so venomously, with such pure hatred, that it leaves no room for questioning.

Yet, you can’t help the gasp from leaving your lips as another, much colder chill runs down your spine. Looking down at the long, crusting wound across your son’s chest, you walk through your belief that he had hurt himself during his escape, like with the other cuts and bruises. But now that you really look at the wound, as you look beyond the healing flesh, you realize that the wound is too clean to have happened by accident.

“Quaritch was holding Kiri at knifepoint too, threatening to kill her if I didn’t surrender. Y/n he took our children just to draw me out. We thought we had just lost Neteyam by Quaritch’s demand,” Jake hurried to say, his voice pleading with you.

But all you can hear is that Neytiri ran her blade across your innocent son’s chest, drawing his blood before going in for the killing blow to end his life. Turning to Neytiri you see how her blade has lowered, her hands slack by her sides as she stares ahead, her expression empty behind her eyes.

“A son for a son, wasn’t that what you said?” The demon sneers and his fury with Neytiri all but drips from the sound.

“Oh, shit,” You can hear Jake whisper, but your ears start ringing as the words sink in and you understand what has been said.

“Is this true, sister?” You turn to Neytiri, praying to the Great Mother that it wasn’t so, that this was just one of the demon’s and Jake's many lies.

“Yes,” Neytiri doesn’t even deny it, but the older woman doesn’t look proud about it either.

A wounded sound leaves your throat as your mind goes blank with pain. Distantly, you feel tears start to roll down your face at the betrayal of your sister’s actions. You’re screaming, but you can’t hear it, unable to stop it as sobs rush through your body. Strong arms wrap around you and before you know it you’re going down, the warm body behind you following you down as your knees hit the woven ground of your kelku. You’re wailing, but all you can hear is Neytiri’s ‘Yes’ ringing through your mind.

The demon tries to comfort you, his big hand holding your head against his chest as you cry. Spider steps closer too, his small arms wrapping around your shoulders as he presses his head to your back. It doesn’t help. Reaching out for your son, you clasp your hand around his, noting how his hand is so small where it’s held by yours, and suddenly, the image of Neytiri holding a blade to your son’s small body flashes before your mind. In the end, rage is the only thing left inside of your empty heart.

“We’re supposed to protect the children,” You whisper morseso to yourself, your voice almost inaudible. But you know they've heard you by the way they all flinch at your words.

“We’re supposed to protect the children,” You say louder as you push away from the demon’s embrace, slapping at his arms and chest to get away when he reaches for you when you turn to face Neytiri again.

“We’re supposed to protect the children!” You scream at her, but she won’t meet your eyes. Stepping away from the demon, you stare at both of them, truly seeing them for the first time in your life before continuing. “And you use them to hurt each other,”

You watch as both of them flinch, their ears pinned back so close to their skulls that had you not known they were there, you would have missed them. Their tails have curled protectively around their legs, their heads lowered in shame, but somehow, they still have the audacity to meet your eyes when you stare at them.

“I saved your son while desperately searching for my own and this is how you repay me,” Your words fall like stones in the silent marui pod.

Behind them, Tonowari stands tall, his warriors no doubt calling him to the marui pod for him to see what the wailing and shouting is about. His eyes are wide as he stands behind the Sullys, ears flat against his mighty hair, while his tail thrashes behind him.

“You are both unworthy to call yourselves parents in the presence of Eywa.” You sneer at them, your fury making your skin grow cold, threatening to make your teeth clatter against each other.

“You do not deserve them,” Your voice is surprisingly calm when you speak, making their ears twitch with the change, as if the defeat in your voice was somehow worse than the rage.

Wrapping your hand around Spider’s arm, you walk out of your kelku without looking back. You needed to find Hawnu, needed to feel the wind through your hair, needed to take your son to a place where you knew he would be safe, where you knew he would be protected. When you had calmed down enough, you had a whole cave full of things you would need to talk to him about, but for right now, you just needed to feel safe, if only for a little while. With your heart broken and bleeding in your chest, you call for Hawnu, your ikran immediately responding with his own screech, Cupcake’s complimentary screech following just behind.

“Do you have space for one more?” Mo’at’s voice asks gently from behind and you’re too tired to argue with the older woman, so instead, you just nod as the tears roll down your face. Maybe she would know why the Great Mother had turned her back on you…

Chapter 16 | Masterpost | Chapter 18