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angelkurenai · 4 years ago

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So much for a surprise - Chris Evans x Reader - Part 2

Title: So much for a surprise

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: I’d love a chris evans x reader one shot, where they’re dating, and after the knives out movie, he’s been spending a lot of time with his co-star Ana de Armas, and like in one specific interview she was getting very flirty and such with Chris, and touching his arm and stuff, and I’d just want to see how you’d interpret jealous!reader, and Chris reacting to that jealousy!!

Read Part 1 here!

There was an echo. A distant one. Far away. And there were words too, he was sure of it, but they couldn't reach him. They tried to, as did the person saying them. However it felt like there was something more, preventing them from getting to him. Maybe it wasn't the voice or the person. Maybe it was really him, him that had walls around him. Preventing the outside world from getting to him.

And the echo seemed further away, muted somehow though he could still hear it. Maybe he was underwater? He didn't know, he had no idea what was going on in the first place anyway, but it felt like it. And not just because he felt like no sounds could get to him clearly, not because his own ears were ringing and the pressure building on each side of his head made him feel like he was thousands of feet deep into the sea, crushing his head in a way that oddly enough didn't hurt as much as the rest of him, as much as his chest and not because of his eyes stinging, burning as did his lungs as he held his breath. No it wasn't because of those reasons that he thought he was beneath the sea but because he felt like- He had taken you on your first date for a picnic by the sea. You had commented on how punctual he was. How him being right on time might seal the deal for you and make you fall for him in the end.

The memory seemed to shake him to the core. A link to reality which assisted in pulling him further and further up from the depths he had found himself in, the surface almost tangible and the other side... painfully there. It hurt more to be back to reality than it did to be underwater in the sea of his thoughts, after all. Maybe, and he was almost certain of it, it would hurt much less to really be underwater. The physical pain would be nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then some more. Everything slowly started coming into focus, all of his senses sharpening. His vision more clear, the sounds reaching his ears more acute and precise, to the point he could tell what was being said.

“Chris? Chris? Chris are you still in there?... Are you alright? The door is locked. Please, just say something.” the voice on the other side of the door was unmistakably Ana's, and while both the tone in it and the knocking on the door was frantic and panicked, to say the least, he couldn't find it in himself to move a muscle just yet.

Whether it was that he didn't care to move or that his mind still hadn't made the connection to the rest of his body so as to not feel the full scope of pain, especially the one harboring within his chest and broken heart, he didn't know. All he did was blink several times again, his eyes slowly focusing on the small open box in his hand. He had spent so much time agonizing over picking the right ring, wanting to treat you right he wanted to pick a ring that could express all of his love for you, and then agonizing over trying to organize the perfect occasion to finally ask the question. It had almost been months now, though he couldn't dare admit to that (mostly because he was almost sure now, he wouldn't get the chance to) just like he wouldn't dare admit that you had been right about Ana. Only up to some point though.

He had been spending more time with her, maybe much more than he did with you, but he was completely oblivious to the way she could possibly feel about him, let alone about all the flirting you had seen. He had too much on his mind, you and his possible future with you, that he didn't even notice half of it. Appreciating only the fact that it somehow managed to make him forget his worries, he went along with all of it. Not that you were to blame for it, if anything it was possibly one of the sweetest kind of worries, but it was still something that kept him up at night. And staying away for some time he had the chance to prepare, mentally if nothing else. He feared that if it didn't go right, if you said no, then maybe that would be it for the both of you and for good. It was a risk, no matter what, and he feared losing you to it.

“Chris? Chris, are you alright? Please just- Say something, I'm getting really worried here. I'm going to get someone to kick the door open if you can't-” her words didn't really register in his ears after that but that wasn't necessary when the purpose had formed in his mind.

Taking in a deep breath, albeit shaky, he shoved the closed box inside his pocket and got up. He cleared his throat and finally unlocked the door, opening it to face his costar standing on the other side. Her face showed the same amount of worry he had detected in her voice through the frantic knocking, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't have the mind to.

“Chris! You- Are you alright? What happened? I've been waiting for you. We- you said you were coming with but then you didn't show up and I- I got so worried.” she said with wide eyes.

He felt a pang in his chest at those words but didn't dwell on it “I- Yeah. I'm fine, I'm- I'm sorry. I was actually a bit in a world of my own, I didn't mean to worry you.”

“Well, no- it's alright, don't worry about me.” she blinked several times, shaking her head “It's just that you've been here for hours and I-”

“Yeah, I've got lots of things going on at the moment and I- To be honest with with you, I'd prefer to be alone right now. So I apologize but I just- I actually have to be somewhere else, I won't be able to make it tonight. I'm sorry, I just... I don't think I will be any good company.”

“Well, it's not like you have to even try to be any good company. Not if you don't want to. You could just come with and not have to talk at all to anyone else if you don't feel like it. And after-” she paused, as if hesitating for a moment “Not to intrude or anything but I kind of noticed that things got bad after your girlfriend showed up so I couldn't help but think that maybe... it would help take your mind off things?” she suggested hopefully but it only made Chris' insides twist “Cause I could help if you'd let me, I'd love to. You know that. I- I mean maybe it's not my place but it seemed-”

“You're right, it's not.” maybe it came out more harsh than it was supposed to, maybe more harsh than he meant it too and more harsh than he even realized, not until h saw Ana's eyes widen in surprise that is “I-” he started before he cleared his throat “Sorry.” he mumbled.

“No, of course- It's alright.”

“It's just that there's something very important going on right now at the moment that needs my full attention. And you can't help me. I would actually appreciate it if you left my out of your plans for quiet... quiet some time. I'm sorry, it's really not you specifically. It's between (Y/n) and I, it can only be that way and it should be that way. Which is why right now-” he hurried to grab his phone and close the door “I have to hurry. I'm truly sorry Ana for...” he paused, looking at her with a frown “For more things than were in my power and I wish things could have gone different but right now (Y/n)'s my main priority. She's always been, even though I did a shit job of showing it.”

“You- uh you don't have to apologize. It's personal. I get it.” she put on what could only a a brave, albeit forced, smile on her face “You go to your girlfriend. I might not know what's going on but... it's clear she could do with seeing you. I can certainly say you need to see her. You should go.”

There were far too many things he wanted to tell her, to apologize for having let things get this way because she wasn't entirely at fault either. He had been so busy worrying about the proposal that he had led her on in his selfish attempts to unwind. In his mind, and heart without a doubt, though he knew that there was no space for any other woman but you. You came first and all the pain he'd put you through, one which he was willing to spend the rest of his life trying to amend for if you'd just let him. Hopefully. So instead all he did was give Ana a short nod and tight smile with a soft “Good night.” before he was sprinting to his car, ready to find you.

Even though he didn't really know where to begin with, the thought of which filled him with ten times the panic of having to propose to you. Moments like this, he really wished he could go back in time and change everything. If he could, he would ask you to marry him with a napkin ring on the spot, without waiting a minute let alone months, from that first morning he realized that he really did want to wake up to you like that every morning for the rest of his life. He even had some crazy hope you would say yes. And it was certainly much more hope than finding you tonight in time and before things took a turn for the worse.

If only he knew where to find you, that would have been great.

It felt like forever, going around with his car, from bar to bar. It was almost crazy, futile even, but it was the only thing he could think of; even if it didn't work out. And it really hadn't because he hadn't been able to find you, or better yet you and your companion, in any of the places he went until he found himself in the most unlikely place for you to be. Or maybe it was the most likely one, who knew?

All Chris knew was that had he not struggled to get out of his car and into your apartment then he would have never noticed the familiar car, parked just a few feet away. And therefore would have not gotten a warning for the man whom he saw exit not shortly afterwards that apartment complex which he certainly didn't live in. Chris followed your costar with his eyes, frowning but otherwise making no move. He wasn't planing on approaching, much less confronting him; he wasn't even ready to know what he was doing at your apartment, because he knew that's where he'd been and he knew that's where he'd find you now. He watched the man get in his car and slowly drive away on the other lane. He kept looking even after he was long gone, no other car in sight or any other person but darkness. The kind of darkness he was afraid would swallow him up whole, most probably from within.

He shut his eyes tightly, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists around the steering wheel and took many breathes in and out as well as a few seconds to calm himself and his thoughts before he left his own car and made his way to your shared place. Or maybe it was a couple minutes trying to prepare himself, but he didn't want to dwell on what he was preparing himself for.

Opening the door and walking into your shared apartment he almost prayed deep down to find you at leas on the living room and when he didn't, he only felt his heart rate pick up. Holding his breath, fearing that even that would make a sound audible enough to alert of his presence, he made his way to your shared bedroom. He would have looked for you in the kitchen or probably any other place he wanted but that would have only been stalling and an attempt at sparing himself some pain and truth was he felt like he didn't deserve it. Even if it was eye for an eye, even if it was more, he had it all coming.

So with that in mind he walked into the bedroom only to, if possible, be more hurt by the sight that greeted him than he initially expected. His breath hitched in his throat when he spotted you sitting on the floor of the room, back resting on the bed, staring at the open wardrobe with red eyes, still glossy from the tears you had no doubt shed. Because of him. And that was a knife to the chest.

It was Dodger, who was as always attached to you and currently laying on your lap, trying his best to comfort you, that noticed Chris first and gave a small bark. You blinked, almost jumping in your place, before you turned your head to meet his eyes. Your own eyes widened briefly, maybe you really didn't expect to see him there, and after a few seconds of hesitation and confusion, you looked away from him again and back at your clothes. He still wouldn't look away, nor make a single sound.

“He only offered to drive me back home. I wasn't-” in came a shaky breath “I clearly wasn't in the mood to stay with them and I- I couldn't really calm down and he got worried. He- He stayed for only a few minutes as I, well-” your smile was so bitter it cut him open “Cried my eyes out. Didn't tell him anything though, don't worry, he didn't ask either.” a heavy sigh “Don't worry about this... us either. I'll uhm I think I've figured out what kind of clothes I need, I haven't talked with Lizzie yet but she wouldn't have a problem letting me stay at her place for some time before I make my way back home.”

“What?” his words came out choked out, probably barely above a whisper, but ringing in his ears “Home? (Y/n)... this is your home. This is our home. What are you talking about?”

“I think I was rather clear, Chris. It's better if we put some distance between us. And after that... Well, I'm going to go back home. There's obviously no other way this can go.” your voice was low “Besides, it's not going to make a difference to you, be honest. Whether I am here or not, how will you even notice the difference when you barely remember you have a girlfriend let alone are around enough to notice her.”

He wished there was some anger in your voice, he wished there was venom or bitterness direct at him. But instead there was nothing, nothing but exhaustion and possibly pain. And that was the worst of it.

“(Y/n), no.” he breathed out almost desperately “No, please don't say that.”

“Well, it's the truth.” you shrugged casually.

“That you're leaving him? Is that the truth? Is that the truth of what you wanted? Of what we were fighting for in this relationship? Of all that we wished and dreamed about? Of what we promised each other when we took the next step?” his voice cracked, and he knew his vision was getting blurry, but he couldn't bring himself to care of how pathetic he could look right now.

“The truth of what the past couple months have been leading to. Of what all this secrecy and distance between us has led to. Even if, as you see, I've been right here for you all the time; maybe it's really time for me to take a step back too.” you looked sadly only at Dodger, no wonder feeling sad that you'd have to part with him and possibly for good after today and-

Chris shook his head, banishing all the thoughts from his head and trying to fight off the lump in his throat. No, no this was not how things were supposed to go. This was not how he was going to let them go.

“It's only natural after today.” you spoke softly “Look, I- I don't want to take any of it out on you. We've had our talk, there is nothing else to say anymore, not really, so I will simply gather my things and-”

“No!” it was the first time a voice was raised in the room, coming from Chris who, as his ears were buzzing, was shocked as well by it all “No, you won't. Not until you've heard my side of the story!” he sounded more firm and determined than, he was sure, he had ever heard himself be in his entire life.

“Chris, honestly, there is no need. I told you I don't blame you and I'm not even jealous anymore. I simply-” you gave him a forced smile “I'm simply tired. I don't have the mind or heart for any of it. And if you really want to be with Ana then you are free to, you don't even have think about me. Much less try to explain yourself or the situation.”

“This is not some sort of excuse, (Y/n). I would never-” he sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face before slowly making his way to you and sitting down in a way that looked more like he was collapsing, making sure to still leave some small distance between you in case you felt uncomfortable “You know I've never cheated on you. I would never try to hurt you, especially in that way. Though, I understand, by not paying closer attention to Ana flirting with me I did just that. You know I-”

“I do.” you whispered “I do know that... Just like I know that all those promises we made each other all that time ago mean nothing anymore. So really there is no reason for you to try and mend things between us. There is no reason to-”

“There's always a reason. There's-” his eyes widened before he shut them closed tightly, shaking his head and fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. It looked like you had given up and that hurt him even more. He couldn't have you give up, because if you did then he probably could do nothing to undo the mess he had created “I love you more than anything in this world, more than my own life.” his voice cracked but he didn't care, he could almost not hear his own words, not as he almost subconsciously reached inside his pocket and pulled the small box only to slowly place it in the space between you.

And even though he was sure all words had left him by now, he surprised himself when he recalled only a few. The ones he had practiced in his head – and ridiculed himself while failing to say out loud – he would tell you when he did get the courage to propose to you “You're my reason.” he whispered, fully looking at you and therefore being able to notice the way your eyes reluctantly but surely trailed from him to the small object between the two of you. Shock was the word that could easily describe the look on your face but not the only one. The gasp from your lips sounded louder in his ears.

“You're my reason for everything. Everything good that happens in my life. Everything good that makes me happy. Everything good that I manage to achieve, you're my reason. Everything I've become these past years, you're the reason. Because you push me to be the best of who I can be . But when the world demands that of me, you're the reason I remember it's also good to not be the best I can be. It's because of you that I remember that falling and failing isn't so bad, because you will be there to help me stand up again. You're the reason I smile and laugh, and cry and get angry more often than not. But you're also the reason I love doing all that as well. You're the reason I love life, with its ups and downs, that I love waking up and that I wish it could be next to you for the rest of my life. You make it all worth it in a way no words can describe it... even the one I've already used. Even-” he stopped himself, the lump in his throat too much to bear anymore, the unshed tears making his eyes burn.

He didn't say anything more, and you weren't about to break the silence that had set around the two of you, his uneven breathing being the only sound that was heard besides the ticking of the clock. In the end, Chris let out a pained laugh “There was a lot I was planning to say after that too, before I really asked the big question you know. For obvious reasons... I probably won't. Not that I think I can really... I'm sorry. But that's the most I've said without messing it up so uh-” he rubbed that back of his neck, painful smile on his face “I guess if things were different, you would have been proud of me? If...”

“Chris... When did you get this?” your voice cracked, hurting him worse than his broken heart.

“It's- I've had it for months now. I couldn't bring myself to- I was scared to ask you. But instead of facing that fear head on I did the stupid thing of trying to get my mind off of it by... well, you know what I've been doing lately.” he sighed, letting his head lean back on the bed, he closed his eyes and fought off the tears. Or at least so he told himself, he was actually scared to face you “I'm so sorry, (Y/n). For everything I've done. For ruining easily the best thing to ever happen to me in my entire life.”

“Fucking hell, Chris. That's- Damn it.” you shocked out, burying your face in your hands. The silence that hang in the room was so thick he felt like chocking. But the way your low voice whispered to him in pain, he realised that there were worse things than that silence. “You did all of this for- for that?”

“I know, trust me I do.”

“You should have told me.” you shook your head, fresh tears running down your face “You should have... That's not how you- I deserved to know. I deserved it... I needed it.”

“I know... I know now. And I understand how... scary it gets. And it's much more scary than asking you that question.” he let out a shuddering breath, eyes opening and falling on the small box “Realizing that there was a real chance of losing you to another man made me feel so helpless. It scared me more than anything and I hate that we had to come to this for me to understand the truth... That I can't lose you, I can't live without you. Only real question here is-” he gave a humorless smile “Is it too late for that?”

Three beats. Three beats of his heart. The longest three beats in his entire life and he felt like drowning again. Before you finally sighed and whispered "You're never too late."

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samwilsonsbabymama · 4 years ago

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A Change of Scenery

Pairing: Single Dad!Angel Reyes x Single Mom Black!Reader (but anyone can read)

Summary: Reader moves to Santo Padre and meets the father of her daughters best friend.

Warning: hella fluff like it’s all fluff lol

Word Count: < 2,900

A/N: This is based off of this post that I made a few days ago. Huge thanks to @my-rosegold-soul for being such a big help with this and for being an all around amazing person 💖I hope yall like it!

✨I don’t give anyone permission to copy/translate/repost/rewrite my work. Minors, DNI at all. ✨

"And AJ said that I could come to his house whenever I wanted, mommy," your daughter, Imani, said, causing you to smile. This wasn’t the first time that Imani had brought up going to Aj’s house, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. You continued listening as she told you about how excited she was to see AJ at daycare as you drove.

You had moved to Santo Padre on a whim a few months ago after spending your entire life in the big city. You were tired of the fast paced life and you needed a change of scenery, so, with very little planning, you'd packed up all of your stuff, and you and Imani moved.

At first, you had been worried that Imani wouldn’t adjust well to being in a new environment, but after a few days in her new daycare, Imani had made a few friends. One friend, in particular, was the constant topic of conversation.

AJ and Imani were in the same class and came to be fast friends. From the first day you picked her up, all Imani could talk about was AJ this and AJ that. You loved hearing about the ‘adventures’ that the two 5 year-olds got up to at daycare.

After you had pulled into the daycare parking lot, you began to walk Imani to the door.

"Mani!" a small voice called out to your daughter causing you both to turn.

"AJ!" Imani responded and pulled the little boy into a hug.

You chuckled as you watched the two embrace.

"So this is Imani?" a voice rumbled next to you causing you to turn.

As your eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight shining in your face, you were taken aback by the man in front of you. He had dark hair just long enough for a few strands to fall into his eyes. His plump lips held a hint of mischief behind his smirk. His brown eyes were dark and you felt yourself wanting to get lost in them for hours. Your eyes traveled down his body catching the name “Romero Brothers” on his work shirt.

Your eyes trailed along the tattoos on his arms down to the many rings that adorned his fingers. You imagined what they would feel like against your skin. As you continued sizing the man up, you bit your lip almost forgetting where you were.

When he cleared his throat, you snapped your eyes back up to his only to be met with a breathtaking smile. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment and you stuck your hand out towards him.

“I’m Imani’s mom, Y/n,” you said and your voice trembled when he reached out and took it. You’d half expected for his hands to be rough and dry, but you were pleasantly surprised to find they weren’t.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n. I’m Angel, AJ’s dad,” he said as he shook your hand.

“It seems as though our kids are best friends; Imani talks about AJ all the time,” you smiled.

“Yeah, Imani is famous in our house.” If it were possible, Angel’s smile got bigger as he spoke.

“Mommy, it’s hot,” Imani interjected before you could respond to Angel. You looked down at your daughter and smiled as she impatiently stood in front of you.

“I guess we should get these two inside,” you said to Angel as you reached for the door.

“Here, let me get that for you,” he said as he moved to open the door for you and the kids. You smiled and whispered “Thank you” as you walked into the building to sign Imani in.

When you were done signing her in, you turned to look back at Angel. When you noticed that he was talking to one of the teachers, you waved Imani ‘Goodbye’ and headed out the door.

A few days passed since you met Angel, and you were still buzzing. Never in your life had you felt this way, not even when you were with Imani’s father. You didn’t want to read too much into this, especially since you had only met this man once, but you were dying to see him again.

As if the Universe had decided to grant your wishes, two weeks after meeting Angel, you ran into him again. Only this time, it wasn’t at the daycare. You’d taken a day off work to get some errands done while Imani was at daycare. You’d been out all day, and your last stop before going to pick your daughter up was the carnicera.

The sight that greeted you when you walked into the only butcher shop in town made your heart skip a beat.

“I’ll be right with you,” Angel said. His back was still to the door as you made your way to the counter.

“Take your time,” you responded with a smile.

At the sound of your voice, Angel stopped doing whatever he was doing and slowly turned to face you. His face lit up when he saw you and his smile caused you to smile.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/n,” Angel said as you got closer.

“You too. I thought you worked at Romero’s?” You questioned.

“Been thinking about me, hmm?” Angel smirked and you rolled your eyes. “I do, but this is my pops shop, I’m helping him out for a bit.”

“Felipe is your dad?” Angel nodded. “Yeah, I can see it now.” You laughed.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Angel chuckled. “Now what can I get for you?”

You rattled off the different cuts of meat that you needed, and Angel quickly got to work. When he rang up your total, it was considerably less than usual.

“Umm, Angel,” you said with a bit of hesitation. “You didn’t ring me up for the correct amount.”

“Sure I did,” he said with an easy smile.

“Usually it’s twice this price,” you replied.

“Oh, we’re running a special today,” Angel replied and you quirked your eyebrow. “Pretty girls get half off.” He winked at you.

“Angel, I can’t let you do that, what would your father say?” You replied with a slight chuckle.

He shrugged, “Why don’t we do this instead. Why don’t you and Imani meet me and AJ at the park this Saturday for a play date in exchange?”

“Angel, I can’t do that. I’ll pay full price, and we’ll meet you at the park,” you countered.

“Too late. I’ve already put it in the register, can’t change the price,” he said as he took the money from your hand and quickly counted your change.

You stood there dumbfounded as he moved quickly handing you your change and meat.

“Great, so AJ and I will see you and Imani on Saturday at the park at noon,” he stated as you took hold of your purchase.

You snapped out of your stupor. “We’ll be there,” you said with a smile before you turned and walked out of the door.

Holy shit.

Saturday didn’t come fast enough. You hadn’t told Imani about meeting up with Angel and AJ at the park, opting for it to be a surprise.

When Saturday finally came, you readied Imani for her playdate and grabbed your purse before the two of you headed out. Normally when you took her to the park, you didn’t really put much thought into what you wore, but this time, you did. You still wore comfortable clothes expecting Imani would want you to play with her, but they were nicer than usual. You actually wanted to impress Angel.

The drive to the park was short and as soon as you parked, you spotted Angel and AJ near the slide. When you helped Imani out of her car seat, you pointed towards the slide.

“Imani, is that AJ?” You asked with fake shock.

Imani’s head snapped towards where you were pointing and she took off running towards her best friend. You laughed and followed behind her and watched as AJ ran up to her. The two grasped hands and took off running towards the slide.

As you walked behind Imani, you took in Angel’s appearance as he moved towards you. His hair no longer fell into his eyes and his beard was freshly lined up. He wore a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, putting all of his tattoos on display.

“Hi, Y/n,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hi, Angel,” you smiled back.

The two of you walked towards the park bench where you could see the two kids playing together on the equipment. As you sat in silence while watching the kids play, your mind drifted back to the man sitting next to you. Why was such a gorgeous man single? Obviously someone had snatched him up at one point in time, but why would they let him go?

“So, Y/n, what brings you to Santo Padre?” He asked as he turned slightly to face you.

You’d shrugged. “Just needed a change, I guess,” you responded. “I’d done the high city thing my whole life, and I didn’t like it much. It was too busy, too fast-paced, ya know?”

Angel nodded, “Makes sense. But why Santo Padre?”

“Because it’s close enough to my family but far enough where I won’t have any unexpected visitors.” You laughed and Angel laughed along with you.

The two of you continued talking about life and parenthood as the children played. Before long, you noticed a food truck parked down the street and the four of you walked to it and grabbed something to eat. When you reached for your wallet to pay for Imani’s and your food, Angel quickly slid his card through the machine stating that since he invited you out, he was going to pay for your food. When you attempted to argue, he shot you a look that quickly ended the discussion.

As the four of you ate, you listened to Imani and AJ talk about all the games they played at the park. When the four of you were done, you noticed how tired Imani and AJ were, and as much as you didn’t want the day to end, you had to.

“I think it may be time to head back home, Mani,” you said as you lifted the sleepy child into your arms.

She and AJ let out quiet protests at the same time.

Angel nodded his head as he also lifted AJ into his arms. You laughed as the little boy could barely keep his eyes open and you imagined that Imani was doing the same. You and Angel walked side by side back to your cars and you noticed that you had parked near him. When the two of you had both kids buckled safely in their car seats, met each other behind your car.

“I had a great time with you, Y/n,” Angel said.

“Me too,” you responded as you looked into his eyes.

“Look, y/n, I hope this isn’t too forward, but I would really like to see you again,” Angel said after a few moments of silence.

“That would be nice,” you agreed. “These two had a blast.”

“No, I mean, just you and me. I mean I would love to do this again and have a playdate for these two, but I want to take you out on a date. If that’s what you want.” Angel ran his hand through his hair as if it were a nervous habit.

“Really?” You were shocked. “I mean, yeah, I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Great,” he smiled. “Here, put your number in my phone, and I’ll call you later.”

You reached out and took his phone and put your number in before handing it back. “I’m looking forward to hearing from you, Angel.” You smiled and turned to get into your car and waited for him to get into his before you turned it on. You were about to start playing some music when your phone rang. It wasn’t a number that you recognized, but you answered it anyway.

“Hello?” You answered.

“It’s later.” Angel’s voice came through the receiver.

You chuckled and looked to your right to see him sitting in his car smiling at you.

“I was thinking,” Angel began, “that we could go out tomorrow night around 8 pm. I could come to pick you up, or we could meet somewhere, whichever you’re comfortable with.”

You chewed your bottom lip. “I don’t know if I can find a babysitter with such short notice.” You really wanted to go out with him, but you needed more time to get a babysitter.

“No worries,” Angel replied. “You can use AJ’s sitter and I’ll leave AJ with my dad.”

You laughed. “Are you sure?”

You watched Angel as he nodded ‘yes’. “Look, I’ll give her a call when I get home and I’ll have her call you. Her name’s Leticia, but we call her Letty, and she’s great with AJ. I’m sure Imani will love her.”

You looked back at your still sleeping daughter and smiled. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Great!” Angel exclaimed. “Alright, I’ll give Letty a call right now and I’ll have her call you tonight.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you smiled. “I’ll talk to you later, Angel.”

“Y/n?” Angel said before you could hang up. “Could you let me know when you get home? I want to make sure that you two get there safely.”

Your heart stuttered. “Of course. Will you let me know when you get home as well?”

Angel responded with a ‘yes’ before you two finally hung up promising to talk later. On your drive home, you thought about your life choices and how they brought you to Santo Padre. You were excited to start this new chapter of your life, and you couldn’t wait to see what new experiences were in store for you.

Your first date with Angel was nothing short of perfect. You found that the two of you had so much in common, and soon, you found yourself on dates two, three, and four.

Months later, your relationship with Angel was still going strong. The two of you constantly talked on the phone and texted each other, and you often spent your nights and weekends cooking for four instead of two. You were taking things slow, always choosing to go home rather than spending the night. Each time you stayed late, leaving got harder, and Angel always respected your decision.

And this is where you found yourself, currently stretched out on Angel’s couch with his arm wrapped around you. Imani and AJ were already asleep on the floor and the movie that you all were watching was long forgotten as you two talked. Somehow, the two of you made it to your ex’s and you weren’t sure how you’d made it this far into the relationship without talking about them, but here you were.

“I thought things were good,” you stated with a shrug. “But then he just up and left one day. Imani was 7 months old when he left, and it’s just been us ever since.”

“I completely understand,” Angel sympathized. “AJ’s mom had us all fooled but one day while I was at work, she dropped him off with my pops and we haven't seen her since. AJ was one. I don’t even know if he remembers her.”

After a few moments of silence, you glanced at your watch and shifted to sit up.

“I think we should head home now,” you said as you stood up.

Angel remained silent as you bent down to pick Imani up. You tried your best to not wake her because you knew she’d be grumpy if you did.

“You can always spend the night, Y/n,” there was a hint of hesitation in Angel’s voice as he spoke. “I mean, you don’t have to, but the offers there.”

You halted your movements and stood back up. “Angel, I-”

“I’ll sleep on the couch if that makes you more comfortable. I just,” he paused and ran his hand over his face. “You shouldn’t be driving this late at night. Please stay?”

You chewed your bottom lip. He was absolutely right, you were too tired to drive, so you nodded your head.

“Imani can sleep in AJ’s room, he has a second bed for when his cousins' sleepover,” Angel explained. The two of you carried the sleeping children to AJ’s room and tucked them in before leaving.

You two stood in the hallway for a few seconds, smiling at each other before Angel leaned in for a kiss. Angel pulled back after a few minutes and placed his forehead on to yours as you both caught your breath.

“Good night, Y/n,” Angel whispered before he completely pulled away from you and walked back to the couch after taking you to his room. You changed into one of his shirts that you found and stood at the edge of his bed for a few seconds before you made your way back to the front of the house.

The room was dark, but you could see his face as he scrolled on his phone. You cleared your throat and Angel’s eyes snapped to yours.

“Angel, you don’t have to sleep on the couch,” you said as you fiddled with the hem of the shirt you were wearing.

“You sure?”

“I mean,” you shrugged.“We can’t have sex, but I’d like to still sleep with you and I'm sure your bed is more comfortable than the couch.”

Angel swung his legs over so that his feet were touching the floor and you averted your eyes when you noticed that he was only wearing his boxers. You kept your eyes on the floor as he walked up to you and tilted your chin so that you were looking at him. “Mi dulce, I’ll do whatever you want.”

You took Angel’s hand in yours and led him back to his room. He watched as you climbed into his bed and flipped the covers back for him. You waited for him to climb in before you cuddled up against him and he quickly wrapped you into his arms.

Part Two

A/N 2: If you ‘liked’ it, please reblog or leave a comment/reply even if it’s only an emoji.

#angel reyes x black!reader #Angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes x plus size!reader #angel reyes x plus size reader #mayans mc fanfiction #maree writes

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heyiwrotesomethings · 4 years ago

Text

Dungeon Crawl

Abigail (Stardew) x She/Her Reader

A/N: For real though, I suck at navigating the Skull Cavern. I play on my ipad while I lay in bed and I cannot tell you how many times I’ve died in that hell hole because my stupid boobs were blocking the view of my health meter. Anyway, enjoy some spelunking with rock eating gf. Word Count: 4,259

“I can’t believe you’re actually letting me come with you, this is awesome!” Abigail grinned, watching out the window as grass and trees slowly morphed into a dry, sandy wasteland.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) rubbed the back of her neck before nervously checking her backpack for the essentials that would make the expedition run smoothly as possible, “Just stay close to me, alright? The Calico Desert isn’t like the mines back home.”

“Yeah, you keep telling me that,” Abi turned away from the window to roll her eyes at (Y/n), “have a little faith in me, will you? I’ve been training for this.”

“I know, it’s just—“

“(Y/n), I’ve got it. Seriously. I’m not some helpless baby.” Abigail huffed.

“Hey!”

(Y/n) and Abigail turned to face the front of the bus, Pam was looking at them through the rear view mirror.

“Are you two gonna get out or not?”

“Sorry Pam!” (Y/n) and Abi answered in unison, quickly making their way to the front of the bus.

“Yeah yeah, hey (Y/n), I’d like to go home before one in the morning tonight so try to stay on task, will ya?” Pam asked, making herself comfortable in her seat.

“I’ll try to make it short this time, I promise!” (Y/n) waved before hopping out of the bus to jog after Abigail who was already heading to the Skull Cavern entrance.

“Abi, wait up!”

“How about you keep up?” Abigail snickered, picking up her pace.

“We have to get you a galaxy sword remember? It’ll only take a second and it’s really cool.” (Y/n) said, slightly out of breath as she ran after her adventure-loving girlfriend.

“Oh yeah!” Abigail kept running, but changed her trajectory to head for the tall pillars in the shifting sands.

“Stop running! We’re in the desert, we need to conserve our energy!” (Y/n) called after her before pausing to rest in the baking sun, resting her hands on her knees she whispered to herself, panting slightly “Ah, forget it.”

(Y/n) took her time walking the rest of the way despite Abi’s yells to move faster. When she finally stood before Abi standing with her hands outstretched, (Y/n) smiled and sighed affectionately. She swung her backpack off and dug into one of the flaps until she felt the smooth stone she was searching for. She pulled out the prismatic shard and put it in Abi’s eagerly waiting hands.

“Now just stand in the middle of the pillars. That should work.” (Y/n) instructed.

“Got it.” Abi nodded, heading into the middle of the pillar ruins with the stone in hand. In a flash of light, the stone was gone. It was replaced with a shiny, purple sword. “This is so fucking cool,” Abi appraised the weapon, giving it a few practice swings.

“Sure is,” (Y/n) smiled, taking a step back from Abi’s sword swinging radius. “Ready to go in the cavern?”

“I sure am! Can’t wait to fight some new monsters.” Abi said, swinging the sword as she walked.

“Just remember, we’re here to mine iridium and any gems we come across. Only fight when necessary.”

“You worry too much, (Y/n). How bad can it be?”

“Bad, Abi. It could be very, very bad. So promise you’ll stay where I can see you.”

“Okay, okay,” Abi pouted, “Are we going in now or what? Half the day is practically gone already.”

“Alright,” (Y/n) steeled herself as she heard the key click in the lock of the skull door before her, “here we go...”

Almost immediately the were ambushed by serpents, but they were easily taken out within a few swings. (Y/n) turned to ask Abigail how she was doing but she wasn’t immediately visible.

“Abi?!” (Y/n) called out, cursing when she didn’t immediately hear a reply. She jogged through the cavern level, putting a hand on her chest, relieved when she saw Abi chipping away at some rocks. Still, she was a bit miffed at her for running off on her own.

“Abi! I told you to stay with me.” (Y/n) admonished, coming to stand beside her.

“What? I didn’t even go that far. Besides, look! Amethyst!” Abi’s eyes gleamed as she presented the purple stone to (Y/n).

(Y/n) decided to let it go for now, only because Abi looked so cute, nibbling at her favorite gem. She could see some aquamarine and topaz nearby so she told Abigail to start looking for the ladder so they could go down together when (Y/n) was done mining the gems. The farmer turned miner had barely cracked open the last gem filled rock before Abi declared she was going to scout ahead down a hole she found, shooting fear into (Y/n)’s heart.

“Damn it.” (Y/n) cursed, gathering the gems and throwing them in her bag before scurrying over and jumping into the hole she had seen a flash of purple disappear into. She screamed, dropping a hefty thirteen floors. Ouch.

Her legs tingled painfully, but (Y/n) quickly pushed past the pain and stood, looking around the new floor.

“Wow, these slimes are huge!” Abigail whistled, slicing at the gelatinous purple blobs.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes in annoyance, quickly joining her girlfriend in the battle. More serpents had sensed their presence so (Y/n) turned to keep them occupied while Abigail fought off the smaller slimes that had split off from the larger ones. When they finally fought all the monsters off, (Y/n) sat on a rock and shuffled around in her bag for some much needed nourishment.

“Abi, have something to eat. That fall was rough.” (Y/n) said, offering the sack.

“Nah, I’m good. I ate some amethyst, remember?” Abigail replied already turning to start bashing rocks, but (Y/n) swiped her by the wrist before she could keep moving.

“Abi, please eat something that has actual nutritional value.” (Y/n) implored. “Look, I even packed blackberry cobbler.”

“Ugh, you’re sounding like my mom right now,” Abi kicked at the dirt, “I’m fine!”

“Right now you’re fine. But that can change in an instant down here. That’s why we take precautions!” (Y/n) stressed, holding out a container of cobbler, “Take a few bites at least, please. For me?”

Abigail stared down at where (Y/n) sat with her lips pursed in frustration, but she sighed and soon relented, sitting beside (Y/n).

“Fine, a few quick bites, worry wart. Ahh,” Abi opened her mouth expectantly, making (Y/n) laugh despite herself.

(Y/n) complied to the request, cutting off a bite and stabbing it with a fork before offering it up to Abi. After a couple more bites Abi motioned that she was done and gave (Y/n) a quick, blackberry stained kiss.

“Thanks for the treat. You always make the best cobblers.” Abigail smiled sincerely.

“Aww, I’m glad you like them!” (Y/n) smiled back, the kiss and the kind words left her feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. But just as fast as the feeling came, it was dashed just as quickly when Abi immediately stood back up and began breaking rocks as quickly as she could.

(Y/n) pouted, ate the other half of the cobbler, then stood to join Abi just in time to find a ladder down.

“Jackpot!” (Y/n) cheered, the most excited she had been about the expedition all day. A whole cluster of iridium filled rocks. Hopefully they would yield a decent amount of ore. “Abi help me with these please. Be careful though, might have some crabs under them.”

“You got it.”

(Y/n) was relieved Abigail had agreed so easily. Especially when she could see three big slimes not too far from where they stood. They mined the iridium ore rock after rock, until all the shiny rubble was demolished. (Y/n) was prepared to ignore the slimes and just start smashing rocks in order to find the next floor, but Abigail immediately started hacking away at them.

She had split them all at the same time, resulting in about twelve smaller slimes surrounding her. (Y/n) rushed forward, assisting Abigail in killing the little purple blobs.

“We don’t have to fight every creature we come across you know.” (Y/n) reminded, walking a bit sluggishly from all the gunk that covered her boots.

“But these things can carry iridium sometimes, right? Why wouldn’t we fight them?” Abigail asked, already breaking more rocks.

“We’ll be here for six more hours at least. We need to conserve our energy.”

“You packed way more supplies than necessary for two people. We’ll be fine, you worry too much,” Abi struck a rock, revealing another hole, “Ah, nice!”

“Abi, wait! Aw man, my ankles still hurt from the last fall...” (Y/n) sulked, before dropping down.

Only four floors this time, but the space was overrun by mummies. (Y/n) found Abi putting them down one after the other, but some had already started to revive, following after Abi, completely unaware that they were still a threat.

(Y/n) began cutting them back down, throwing a bomb down before running after Abi and pulling her away seconds after she downed another mummy.

“What are you doing?” Abi asked, almost tugging against the pull.

“I set a bomb! Run!”

Abigail didn’t need to be told twice. An exhilarated grin split her lips and suddenly she was the one pulling (Y/n) out of the blast zone. Upon hearing the deafening boom and the crackle of rubble raining back down to the rugged earth, Abigail turned to see the damage, eyes alight.

“That’s so cool! Can I try next time?”

“Oh I don’t know...”

“Come on (Y/n), please?” Abigail asked, pulling (Y/n) closer and batting her eyelashes at her.

“Mm, okay. Just, be careful.” (Y/n) relented, handing a bomb to Abi.

“Sick.” Abi smiled, tossing the bomb between her hands.

“I said be careful.” (Y/n) warned, watching nervously.

“Calm down, it’s not like I’ll drop...” the next toss Abi made between her hands had the bomb skimming past the tips of her fingers. She fumbled with the explosive but couldn’t catch it in the end, smacking it against the rocky terrain.

“Shit, run!” (Y/n) yelled pushing Abigail away from the fizzing bomb.

They were still within the blast radius and with one last shove, (Y/n) managed to get Abi out of range. Unfortunately, she herself took some of the hit. Making matters worse, the earth below her opened up, swallowing (Y/n) down into further darkness.

“(Y/n)!” Abigail yelled, kneeling in front of the hole. “Don’t worry, I’m coming!”

Abigail delayed no further, leaping into the hole and falling only about eight floors this time. Still she felt a twinge in her feet at the impact.

“Woah,” Abi breathed out heavily as she gained her bearings. The ground was green and mossy, vines hung from the walls, but most notable were the giant reptilian beasts. “Are those all Pepper Rex? The one on (Y/n)’s farm is so small and unimposing though... (Y/n)!”

On the other side of the cavern, (Y/n) was fighting off serpents and iridium bats, while also trying to dodge the flames spewing out of the prehistoric creatures’ mouths. She looked exhausted, but she kept fighting, taking quite a few hits in the process. Abigail sprinted forward, slicing at one of the serpents diving at (Y/n)’s back.

(Y/n) turned to look behind her and Abi leveled a confident grin at her before swiveling on her heel to stand back to back with her. Abi swung her sword outward, cutting up any winged creature that swooped by. (Y/n) tried to do the same, though she was tired, hitting whatever came her way with a strained grunt and clangs of her sword beating against the cavern wall whenever a serpent or bat dodged an attack.

There were only a few flying creatures left, dive-bombing their heads. They needed to finish them off quickly because the dinosaurs were circling dangerously closer, the heat of their flames nipping at the couple’s skin as the were forced further into a corner.

Abigail let out a triumphant yell as the last bat was felled, iridium falling to the ground. She glanced back at (Y/n), finding her leaning forward heavily on her knees. It was clear to her that they needed to leave, now.

“Hang on, (Y/n). I’ll get us out of here.” Abigail approached, looping one of (Y/n)’s arms over her shoulders and hoisted her up.

“Just be careful... You’re parents will kill me if you get hurt.” (Y/n) groaned, trying to keep herself lucid.

Abigail scanned the room, searching for a path through the flames. Once she found an opening, she pulled (Y/n) forward, trying to block wayward blasts of fire with her sword as she continued to forge ahead towards the main staircase. It would be a long climb back up, but she’d take that over being roasted alive any day.

They had almost made it when a particularly strong flame lashed out at them, forcing roars of pain from (Y/n) as she took the brunt of the hit for Abigail.

“No!” Abigail grunted, picking up the pace. (Y/n) basically become dead wait in her arms as she dragged her to the ladder. (Y/n) couldn’t get up herself, not in this state. Abigail set her down and frantically searched (Y/n)’s bag for medicine as the lumbering beasts made steady progress in their direction.

Abigail found the medicine and with shaky hands, helped (Y/n) take some.

“I know you’re in a really bad way right now, but we got to get you back home, (Y/n). Do you think you can hang on my back?”

“I. can. try.” (Y/n) panted.

Abigail bent over and hoisted (Y/n) further up her back when she felt the weight settle, careful not to upset the burns too much she began forcing her way back up the ladder, leaving the terror of Pepper Rexs’ to hiss and pace below, lapping the invulnerable ladder with flames.

Abigail had never been more happy to see the sky. She staggered, plopping (Y/n) a little too harshly into the sand below her feet and then joined her. Uncaring of the little grains that were sure to stick in her clothes and hair. The sun, though now hanging low in the sky, had left the sand pleasantly warm, and it felt good on Abigail’s aching muscles, but not so much on the sporadic burns she had accumulated. She turned to look at (Y/n), assessing the damage. She was definitely roughed up to say the least.

“Are you okay, Abi?”

“Am I okay? Have you seen yourself?!” Abigail hovered over her girlfriend, a brittle laugh tumbled past her lips.

“I’ve had worse... actually, that was one of the better experiences I’ve had in the cavern.”

“What!” Abigail screeched, pulling at her own hair, “what could be worse than this?”

“Well, there have been a few occasions where I may have fallen unconscious and woken up at Harvey’s in less than ideal shape, unable to recall how I got there...”

“(Y/n)!” Abigail spluttered, “Why would you ever go in there? Why did you let me talk you into taking me here if this is what happens to you?”

“I can’t say no to you when you look at me with that face, you know the one. All cute and pouty. Also, iridium ore. We got a nice haul before everything went sideways.”

“We only got twenty-three!” Abigail shook her head.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) giggled tiredly, “a good haul.”

“You’re insane. That, or a masochist. And people say I’m weird for eating rocks.”

“You are weird for eating rocks, but Yoba, I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Okay, we need to get you into the bus and have Pam get you to Harvey’s straight away. You’re loopy.”

“This sand tastes rough.”

Abigail dragged (Y/n) back to the bus, disturbing Pam from her nap. Pam took one look at (Y/n) and rolled her eyes completely unfazed.

“Load her up. I’ll get us back to town as fast as I can.” Pam groused.

Abigail took (Y/n) to the back of the bus so she could lay out on the long bench with her head on Abigail’s lap. It made it easier to monitor the farmer on their way back and Abigail rustled through the backpack to find some more blackberry cobbler, sharing bites between herself and (Y/n) as they slowly built back their strength.

It was around ten o’clock at night when they returned. Pam helped Abigail carry (Y/n) to the clinic though she complained the whole time, muttering something about how a ticket worth five hundred gold was not enough money to have to deal with this. Pam left the girls outside of Harvey’s before making her way to the Inn for a drink before bed.

Abigail pounded on the clinic door, hoping her parents wouldn’t hear it somehow and come out to see what was going on. Luckily, the only person that seemed to hear the harsh banging was the doctor.

Harvey peeled the door back, looking rather tired already. When he saw the states of his visitors he appeared even more exhausted.

“Skull Cavern?” He asked.

“Skull Cavern.” Abigail affirmed.

“Alright,” Harvey sighed, “come in.”

After getting all patched up, Abigail guided (Y/n) out of the clinic, thanking Harvey for all the help along the way. (Y/n) made to head back towards her farm but Abigail pulled her towards the general store instead.

“Just stay with me tonight. My house is literally right here and you’ll probably pass out before you even made it out of town.” Abigail persuaded.

“What about your parents?” (Y/n) whispered, watching Abigail unlock the front door.

“They’ll just have to deal with it. I say we’ve been together long enough that they shouldn’t freak out about something as trivial as a sleepover. If they didn’t know we were dating, they wouldn’t even bat an eye over it. Just a couple of gals being pals.” Abigail grumbled opening the door slowly before whispering, “Let’s try to keep quiet anyway though. Just to keep the peace.”

“Okay...”

Abigail and (Y/n) tiptoed through the rows of shelves, making it to the living quarters portion of the building without incident. Abigail thought they were home free, but when she cracked the door to her bedroom open, the hinges moaned and creaked loudly.

“Abigail?”

“Shit, get in.” Abigail hissed at (Y/n), pushing her into her room before calling back to her mom, “Yeah, mom?”

Abigail cursed, hearing the flit boards creek and the light in her parents’ room turn on.

Caroline emerged from the doorway and turned on the hall light as well, causing Abigail to rub her eyes from the sudden brightness.

“Hi sweetie,” Caroline smiled, “did you have a good time with (Y/n) today?”

“Yeah.” Abigail answered, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You got home a little later then you said you would. You’re father tried to wait up for you, but he fell asleep.”

“The movie ran a little longer than we thought it would. Sorry I kept you waiting.”

“Don’t worry about it honey, your father will get over it.” Caroline assured, “How was the movie? Your father and I don’t feel like making the trip all the way to Zuzu City, but we were thinking about going to see it when it’s in town next week.”

“It was okay, mom.” Abigail shrugged, “I think you guys would like it. If you don’t mind I’m really tired so...”

“Of course, dear. Sleep well.”

“Good night, mom.” Abigail turned to enter her room when Caroline spoke up again.

“Good night, (Y/n).” Caroline crossed her arms, waiting for a response.

“...Good night, Caroline.” (Y/n) called meekly from out of sight, making Caroline smile, satisfied that her suspicions were correct.

“Behave yourselves, alright? I could hear a pin drop from the store front.”

“Mom!” Abigail said, aghast by what her mother was insinuating. “It’s just a sleepover.”

“It most certainly will be, or Ms. (Y/n) will find herself walking back home in the middle of the night,” Caroline threw her voice, talking behind Abigail rather than to her, “You’re welcome to stay for breakfast as long as there is no funny business.”

“Mom!” Abigail repeated again, more indignant than the last.

“...Thank you. That sounds lovely.”

“Alright, good night girls.” Caroline kissed the top of Abigail’s head, then shuffled back into her bedroom, turning the lights off behind her and leaving her door open just a hair.

Abigail shook her head before retreating into her room, making sure the sound of her door closing was audible in hopes of spiting her mother in some way. She saw (Y/n) already sitting on her bed with some borrowed pajamas on, looking embarrassed but also wide-eyed. Like she had heard something that had surprised her, something she hadn’t expected.

“Sorry, you know how my parents are.” Abigail grumbled looking through her pajamas to see what she would sleep in for the night.

“You... I’ll wait for you to change.”

Abigail rose a brow at (Y/n) but easily returned to her task, throwing her dirty clothes into her hamper before flopping down on the bed beside (Y/n), causing the springs of the mattress to creak loudly.

The sound made both the girls wince, and although they had done nothing wrong, the anxiously looked to the door, listening for anything that wasn’t just the house settling. Once they seemed to be in the clear, (Y/n) pulled Abi close so she could whisper urgently in her ear.

“You told your parents we went to Zuzu City to see a movie?”

“Yeah,” Abigail answered smoothly as if it wasn’t a big deal, “like they’d ever agree to me going out to the desert.”

“You told me they were cool with it! That’s why I let you come in the first place. I should have known!” (Y/n) whispered harshly, struggling to keep her voice low. “What if you had been in my boots, as hurt as I am? Your parents would have never let me see you again if I dragged you here like you had to do for me.”

“That’s not their choice to make. I’m tired of them telling me what I can and can’t do. Sometimes it’s better to just tell them what they want to hear, and see? Everything worked out. I do the same thing when I go to gigs with Sam and Seb at run down bars in the shady parts of the city.”

“Are you going to make a habit of lying to me too?” (Y/n) frowned.

“(Y/n), no.” Abigail frowned in return, cupping (Y/n)’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you about my parents. I just, I really wanted to go out on an adventure with you. I wanted to show you how much I had grown since being a trembling little baby cowering away from the bats in the mines. The last thing I meant to do was hurt you. I’m sorry.”

(Y/n)’s eyes scanned over Abigail’s before she closed them and nodded slowly, “Okay, I forgive you. But please, don’t lie to me ever again.”

“I won’t. Promise.” Abigail nodded, resting her forehead against(Y/n)’s.

“And work on being more truthful to your parents. Start small of you must.”

“Ugh, fine. Don’t blame me if they won’t ever let me leave the house. I’ll wave at you longingly from the balcony when you pass through town.” Abigail muttered dramatically, making (Y/n) giggle and pull Abigail down to lay in the bed with her.

“I’ll be sure to work on my throwing arm so I can still give you pumpkins.” (Y/n) smiled, shifting the duvet out from under them so they could snuggle in.

“Aren’t you sweet,” Abigail wiggled closer, “perhaps that old ouija board was right.”

“How come you’re allowed to talk about the ouija board, but I’m supposedly pretend like it never happened?”

“Because it’s my embarrassing story so only I have the authority to bring up.”

“Is that how that works now?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.” (Y/n) shrugged.

They were quiet for awhile then, breathing evenly. (Y/n) had almost thought Abigail had beaten her to sleep when she suddenly spoke again.

“I’m also really, really sorry about the bomb and, well, everything that happened immediately after.” Abigail said, absently rubbing the sleeve of the shirt (Y/n) was wearing between her fingers.

“It’s alright,” (Y/n) yawned, “it was an accident after all. Try not to dwell on it. I’ve blown myself up on accident plenty of times before hand.”

Abigail smushed (Y/n)’s face between her hands, making her lips protrude like a fish, “Don’t say I’m turning into my parents when I say this, but I forbid you from going into the Skull Cavern ever again. Stick to the mines.”

“But, iridium.” (Y/n) protested, though her face was still being squished.

“You have that weird cat statue and those purple sea cucumbers. You’ll get by.” Abigail replied, leaving no room for argument, making (Y/n) whine. She kissed the pouty lips, sliding her hands off to rest one on her pillow and the other on (Y/n)’s collar bone. “Now we have to get some sleep. We’ll need all the energy we can get to deal with my parents in the morning now that sneaking you out of the house isn’t an option.”

“I am really tired,” (Y/n) yawned again, “you better fill me in on what movie we supposedly went to though. I’m sure that will be a whole discussion.”

“Oh yeah, I should do that, shouldn’t I?”

Abigail and (Y/n) settled into more comfortable positions, a few more kisses were shared before they finally drifted off in each other’s arms to the sounds of David the guinea pig rustling in his enclosure.

#stardew valley x reader #stardew valley oneshots #sv abigail #stardew valley abigail #abigail x reader #sv abigail x reader

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seventfics · 3 years ago

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Autumn Birds

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: We fell in love, but your previous lover reappeared/returned Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier (w/ past!Geralt/Eskel and past!Geralt/Jaskier) Rating: T Content Warnings: None Summary: They’d met just as the leaves were turning yellow.

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* * *

They’d met just as the leaves were turning yellow.

Jaskier had heard of a witcher staying in town and, as was his prerogative since his acquaintance with a certain White Wolf, he’d ventured to see what the man was all about. It was not so often one got to meet someone of their caste. Why not have a little courage to break the ice himself?

The whispers spoke of a witcher with a terribly scarred face. Two swords strapped over his back, their pommels shaped into wolf heads. The women said he had a voice like a dog’s growl, so grave that when he spoke, it made children cry.

He thought that last bit was rather mean, and followed the trail of curses into a grimy tavern where a fight was about to break out.

“You promised fifty.”

“The best I can do is half.”

Jaskier’s hand freezes on the door. Whatever he’s come to doesn’t look good. The witcher’s back is to him, his padded shoulders raised with tension. The village’s alderman paces in front of him, fuming over a contract’s fee. There’s a few antsy people in the crowd too. The anger written on their faces makes him nervous.

He’s seen how this ends a dozen times. It’s gotten his own arse kicked butting into the middle of a witcher’s bargaining, actually.

“Now, now, gentlemen,” Jaskier interjects boisterously from the doorframe anyway. “This is no mood for drink and cheer. Calm your spirits with a little of the former—”

The alderman grumbles under his breath about merry idiots meddling in what they shouldn’t. “Shut up, bard. This here’s serious business. And I’m not about to be robbed by a witcher’s ridiculous high prize.”

“It’s not ridiculous. The contract says fifty, and,” the witcher stops to lift the bloody stump of a water hag’s head, “it’s already done.”

“That contract was up weeks ago. The reward’s gone down. You’re lucky half’s on the table at all.”

The witcher grunts—a familiar sound to Jaskier’s ears which translates to wordless annoyance—and drops the head on the floor. “You’re lucky the hag didn’t move closer into the village in that time.”

“Is that a threat?”

At the rising outrage in his tone, Jaskier slips closer to stare at the alderman over the witcher’s swordless shoulder. “Ah, I believe the witcher means more of your people would have died, had he not taken care of the problem so promptly. The reward hardly sounds like an unreasonable amount. I could get twice as much on a profitable eve of singing. In fact,” he flips to the witcher, who does not yet deign to look back at his unforeseen defender, “I could turn this place around and earn us both a decent share in one night. I’m no fop on the job!”

It’s then that the witcher looks towards him, but the bard only manages a quick glimpse of an incredulous set of eyebrows before the alderman starts shouting.

“Get out! Both of you! Out of my town or I’ll have the dogs chase you out!”

They both take that as their leave, Jaskier with a bit more speed in his jog.

At the outskirts the witcher turns fully, and at the sight of his whole face Jaskier almost gasps out loud. A long scar runs through his cheek, from eyebrow to jaw, and over his lips. It puckers the skin all around it, disfiguring half of his face.

Whatever caused that scar must have hurt a lot.

The witcher shifts in place, quiet for a long second as Jaskier does his best to hide his nerves. “I’m sorry to have involved you.”

“Oh, please, don’t be. I involved myself. Jaskier’s the name, by the way,” he introduces himself, hand extended in greeting.

The witcher scratches the back of his head. His lips twist to one side, bashful. One of his teeth peeks through the scarred tissue over his mouth. “Uh. Eskel.” He takes the offered hand and shakes it.

It’s the firmest handshake Jaskier has ever received.

“Well, Eskel. Are you short on coin? Because so am I.”

The snort he gets is—soft. Not at all like the gruff from before, with the alderman.

“I’m not doing too bad, I’d say. Just currently fifty short of what I expected to have at the end of the day.”

"How about I help with that? I wasn't lying when I said I could earn both a decent share, given the right crowd."

It's the sunset hour, and the leaves were falling on top of them. Everything is gold. The sky, the trees. Eskel’s eyes when they blink at him and he breaks into a genuine laugh.

Jaskier knows he’s a romantic. His heart flutters every odd day over strangers with pretty smiles. He’s just never seen such a shy, sweet smile on someone with such an intimidating facade.

Making him smile again became a personal quest.

* * *

At the next town over, Eskel speaks to the alderman there. This one is more reasonable at least, and up front about the sort of beast that lurks in the northern farms. Which brings up a whole new conversation as Jaskier doesn’t part from Eskel’s side despite the obvious danger.

Eskel grunts and sits him down, not unlike the times Geralt tried—and failed—to convince him to stay put. Jaskier just blinks his pretty blue eyes and says, “and how will I write a song of your prowess in battle if I am not there to witness it?”

“This is a dangerous contract, bard. It would be best if you let me handle it alone.”

“Oh no. No, no, I’ve heard that before a dozen times.”

Eskel pauses at that. “What?”

“I am perfectly capable of staying out of your way.”

The wyvern they encounter says otherwise.

To be fair, he had done a good job of staying out of the witcher’s way for most of the fight. It is only when the beast slams its tail into Eskel’s side on a backswing that Jaskier shouts in worry from his hiding place and brings undue attention to himself.

Wind whips around him for a split second, scattering dust into his eyes. It takes a moment to wipe them clean so of course he doesn’t see the great shadow flying at him. Doesn't realize the immediate need to hide or flee for his life until a giant claw snatches him by the bunched fabric on his back.

Jaskier's stomach plummets as he soars up. The ground recedes. His clothes start to rip. This is it, he panic-screams in his mind, this is his final day. Either as monster food or a blood splatter on a rock, his time has come.

A severe overreaction, and his own mistake for not trusting in a witcher's skill. He doesn't realize it in all, what with all his flailing about, but Eskel fires a crossbow bolt perfectly at the wyvern’s eye.

The beast screeches terribly loud in his ears. It flaps its wings once, twice, before twisting midair and letting him go.

They both fall, but Eskel catches him.

By the silence that follows after an earth-shaking crunch, he knows the witcher's won. Victory is not immediately on his mind, though. The way his sight spins and the sun paints a halo behind Eskel's hair, Jaskier dumbly thinks, oh—I've quite literally fallen in love.

“See?” he says instead, breathless with terror at almost having died, “I’m perfectly fine.”

Eskel raises a thick brow at him. And he's smiling too, the bard thinks. Could just be the scar making it look like a lopsided smile, but he wants to believe that he's made the witcher smile again with his foolish sense of humor.

“Are you alright? The tail,” Jaskier frets once his vision settles. Some of these monsters have poisoned stingers on the end of their tails. Are wyverns one of them?

But Eskel waves him down before he can consider the worst. “Relax. I cast Quen in time.”

“That’s a, uh, magic shield, right?”

Surprise colors Eskel's features. So it seems he's right. A point of pride on Jaskier's belt for remembering witcher signs.

Getting proof of a contract well done takes the witcher a good minute to collect. Wyvern skin is tough. The head would normally satisfy as proof, but it's too heavy to be lugging around town. He will have to make do with the wing tips. Should they question him, the remains aren't going anywhere.

“Come on, bard. Time to get our day's work done. And after that, we're going west.”

“'We'?” Something about the proclamation has his heart beating fast.

“'Course. I'm not letting you out of my sight now.”

He makes a show of bowing dramatically. “I wouldn’t want to be elsewhere.”

* * *

“You’re a friend of Geralt’s.”

Jaskier looks up from his notes.

Traveling with someone is always interesting—with a witcher even more so. So far he's learned that Eskel has far more routines than Geralt ever did, like counting his coin at the end of every week, and making sure he has two of every potion ready.

Jaskier quirks a half-smile. “I am. How did you figure? I never said his name.”

“Your song.” He points to the scribbled mess on his lap. “Or, I guess your work in progress. I see an expression he uses a lot, that he learned from me.”

“Oh?”

Eskel sits by him and nods, as if finally understanding Jaskier’s odd ease partnering with a witcher, and starts the story of where the expression in his handwriting originated from.

It’s funny at first, imagining a much younger, somehow more foolish Geralt together with this huge, frightening man who is not frightening at all to talk to. Eskel speaks so softly, so tenderhearted about the old memory—two boys, witchers-to-be, practically joined at the hip, making crude jokes. So he reciprocates with a tale of where he comes from, as destiny deigned to put them in each other’s paths.

As it happens, a lot of their first stories aren’t even their own, but Geralt’s.

And Eskel has many more over his. He’s more than happy to share them over camp.

Some of it leaves Jaskier’s throat aching. This is someone who clearly cares about his big grumpy friend. It's someone he can understand.

Then Eskel claps a bare hand on his back, his thumb and forefinger a hot press just under his nape, and oh, he’s more than a little foolishly in love actually, as his head is emptied of all reason at the small touch.

“Am I to become your travel bard,” Jaskier quips with an airy giggle. “I’m excellent entertainment at parties.”

“Not for long. It’s almost winter. Soon I’ll have to head north to meet my brothers.”

His heart sinks. “Oh.”

Eskel squeezes his shoulder with careful strength. “You better keep out of trouble while I’m gone, you hear?”

“Of course. I don’t go looking for trouble.”

“No, trouble just finds you.”

Well, if ‘trouble’ is a scarred, smirking witcher, he sure hopes that to be true.

* * *

They meet again when the trees are just beginning to color with spring blooms.

There is also a griffin tearing through the town's cattle, but that’s besides the point. Easily dealt with. Which is good, seeing as Jaskier had been near the scene and probably next on the menu. No one had told him about the griffin, so really. He's just as surprised to find Eskel as he is about the beast.

“You alright, bard?”

“I am now.”

Matter resolved, Jaskier walks in step next to Eskel. The town opens before them, welcoming the witcher not with smiles, but grudging gratitude.

“You sure? Trouble didn’t come knocking while I was gone?”

“Only a man with a lover’s grudge come to kick my ass out of a wonderfully luxurious establishment. Didn’t even get to enjoy the hot bath I paid for, which is such a terrible waste of hot water.”

A deep hum comes out of the witcher. “A lover’s grudge?”

“Just a past dalliance that won’t forget me.”

Eskel stops and shifts on his feet, like he wants to say something but he doesn’t know how to start.

Oh, witchers and their awkward conversation skills.

“You know what, I’m starving. I think a good, hearty meal is owed between us. What do you say we go collect your reward and we break fast at the alderman’s recommendation?”

“We don’t have to get the coin right now. I could go for some food.”

“First tavern we see then. Come on.”

Right as he says it, he wraps his arm around Eskel’s, and maybe he’s just being too obvious, too hopeful, but Eskel doesn’t shrug him off. They make their way to a large and welcoming tavern, him talking his head off about the barn smell that permeates the whole town and ignoring the dark looks people give them down the street, as Eskel listens, not a word coming from his mouth. It worries Jaskier a minute that he’s becoming more annoyance than the teasing meddler he wants to be. But Eskel is just scratching his chin, looking down and letting Jaskier lead.

When it becomes clear that Eskel doesn’t have any rented lodgings yet, Jaskier offers his own. “I’m sure the innkeeper won’t mind us bunking if we pay for two, at the end of our stay.”

Eskel doesn't say no. He also doesn't say yes. It takes them finally being settled in a table of their own, full of fruits, cheese and bread, neither of them taking the first bite to eat, for Jaskier to nervously ask, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” comes the too-quick response.

“If I overstepped in some way, please tell me.”

“It’s nothing like that, I—uh.” Eskel shakes his head, his expression scrunched up unpleasantly.

“Whatever it is, I won’t be offended.”

He's already writing a million apologies in his head for any of his imagined offenses, that he's not quite prepared for what Eskel says instead.

“You are...different from what I expected.”

Jaskier blinks. “How so?”

“I don’t know. You’re just. Human. You’re normal.” He makes a point of gesturing at the table, the people keeping their distance. “I don’t get why you do all this for me.”

It's slow-creeping, but once the pieces align, Jaskier starts to understand what he means. That confusion, he’s known it with Geralt. Why do you stick with me? What does a witcher have to offer a human that isn’t the service of a silver sword? What does a human want with a mutant when there are plenty of other ordinary, uncomplicated folk in the world to have for company?

“Because you’re a good man,” he tells the witcher gently. “Because you saved my life and I want to repay you in kind. Most reasonably of all, because we’re friends, and friends take care of each other.”

Of course there’s more to it than that, but if a friend is all Eskel wants, then a friend he shall be.

The rumble of the tavern fills the air as Eskel stares at him a little wide-eyed. Jaskier gives him a slight smile. As a close, he pushes the platter of cheese forward with an encouraging, “now eat your fill, my friend.”

Once Eskel returns his smile, he thinks that, well, that everything will turn out alright.

And they’re happy eating their food when Geralt shows up for the griffin that’s already dead.

At his distinct silhouette, Eskel stands up. “White Wolf.”

“Eskel,” Geralt calls back gravely.

They clasp arms and pat each other’s shoulders in sync. It might not seem like much to outsiders, but what a rare sight to behold—two witchers, two mirrored grins on both their faces.

Eskel is the first to part from the hug with a chiding, “You didn’t come for winter.”

“I know. I had a lot going on. Saw your handiwork hooked to your horse’s saddle.” Then he looks down, and spots Eskel's table company. “Jaskier?”

“Geralt.”

Their held eye-contact feels longer than it is. Looking away, Jaskier half expects the whole tavern to be staring at them, but as it turns out, no one cares to pay the witchers and their odd bard any attention now that the monster's been dealt with. It's just him, imagining his heart hanging out of his sleeve for everyone to judge.

And maybe Eskel senses something's up between them, because he leaves them with the excuse to collect his coin.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Jaskier says after Geralt takes Eskel's abandoned seat. “Have you really been so busy that you couldn’t let your friends know you were alive?”

Geralt's silence is its own answer—a little shame, a little remorse. He remembers how Eskel had said that as time went on, Geralt just, lost touch. There had been something heavy in Eskel’s eyes when he said it, and Jaskier had felt it in his soul. Now he understands why. Him and Eskel, they'd both gone through the same impossible task of loving someone who doesn’t believe he can be loved.

By gods, he still loves Geralt, but Geralt's heart is a rusty cage, and neither of them can coax the old bird that lives in it anymore. Soft words and gentle promises have run their course.

“So,” the witcher starts, “you and Eskel? Didn't know you knew each other.”

“Maybe if you’d met either of us during winter you would have heard.” The phrasing's rough, but there's no resentment in his voice. He would have liked to know that Geralt had been safe in his wintering home, with Eskel.

“Yeah. I’m...surprised.” Jaskier raises his brow at him. Which just earns a quick shake of Geralt’s head. “He doesn’t make friends easily.”

“Neither do you, and yet look at us.”

“Look at us,” he echoes, staring at the empty plates.

“We missed a lot of opportunities together, didn’t we?” It doesn't make the truth any easier to swallow, but acknowledging the what-could-have-beens has always made him feel better afterward. Like closing a book, and getting ready to open a new one. He hopes Geralt knows that there's no bridges destroyed between them. Only those missed moments.

He still very much cares for Geralt, and he knows that Geralt does as well. They just have to come to terms with what's over—and what might come next.

“I won’t lie to you,” Jaskier adds more seriously. “I don’t want to miss any opportunities with him.”

The 'him' in question is unmistakable. Geralt nods. He looks down, one end of his mouth drawing up to dimple his cheek.

He says, like an olive branch offering, “His favorite flower is yarrow. Not because they’re pretty, but because they’re useful in the most surprising ways.”

* * *

They spend the day catching up, all three of them, before Geralt is on the road again, taking his own path. Jaskier sees how it brightens Eskel’s spirits to have seen him off, and cheers up twofold.

“I’ve known him practically my whole life,” Eskel tells him.

“I’ve known him half of mine.”

“So you understand.”

“That he’s a prat? Oh yes. Good at heart, backwards about verbalizing it. Cheeky when he wants to be. Oh by the way, here.”

From out of his little travel bag, Jaskier pulls a swathe of yarrows.

“Saw some at market street,” he explains, presenting them. “Thought you might find use in them for your potions.”

Eskel turns to him, his bright witcher eyes bouncing between him and the yarrows. Jaskier feels his heart climb up his throat, wondering what runs through Eskel's mind that makes him pause for so long.

Then Eskel takes them with one hand and with the other, he touches Jaskier’s face. It's big, warm, calloused against his skin. And sudden.

“‘Cheeky when he wants to be’, right?”

Jaskier stutters to say, “Well, yes, I mean, but this isn’t about him—”

He forgets how to speak after Eskel kisses him. It’s the lightest peck on the corner of his lips, so light that once he draws back, he wonders if he's not still dreaming back in their rented room.

“Thank you. I know just what to use them for.”

The yarrow gets tucked away with the other herbs in Eskel's saddlebag. A few glasses clink together as he moves things around so they don’t get crushed. And then, as Jaskier stands there, stupefied and slack-jawed, Eskel mounts his steed, a soot-black beauty that neighs softly at Jaskier’s face.

“Where are you headed for now?”

“Nowhere. Anywhere.” Wherever you’ll go, he thinks to himself. Wherever you'll have me.

Eskel grins wide at him, and it's the most beautiful sight, his smile, with all his teeth gleaming.

“That sounds like trouble.”

#jaskel #jaskier x eskel #rarepair summer bingo #myfics #tt

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hongism · 4 years ago

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mists of celeste ➻ 30

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 12.0k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act four ➻ part five

“I hate playing a waiting game,” Jongho mutters as he runs a finger over the rim of his glass. The liquor inside trembles from the faint touch, small waves rippling over the surface before coming to a rest again when Jongho pulls his hand back.

You pay little attention to the movements. You’re far too preoccupied with the dainty hand-drawn map in front of you: the small blueprint you hastily drew before coming to the dingy bar thirty minutes ago. Too much of your time in the military is hazy, and the parts that are clear and at the forefront of your mind are most certainly not diagrams of whatever the military bases look like. You have little hope that your memory is serving you well, and even so, there is no guarantee that the military here on Kebos hasn’t changed their systems in the past few years. Jongho holds much more faith in your abilities, however, and he hums as he glances over your work.

“It looks good.”

You can’t keep from rolling your eyes at the tone of his voice, mostly thanks to the constant thrum of anxiety in your gut.

“There’s a big chance that this base won’t even be built the same as in the past,” you mumble. You retrace a few lines off to the side in efforts to busy yourself and quell your nerves, but it does little to help. Jongho shakes his head, and you catch the motion out the corner of your eye.

“This one has been standing for at least sixty years, according to Seonghwa. It’s merely been repurposed time and time again, so… layout should be the same. Even if it’s a little different, you know what you’re talking about. Surely Yeosang can manage it too with his experience.”

“No, he’s – he wouldn’t have spent his time in warehouses and inventory bases. Not with a royal background.” You blink down at the table with little interest, taking your lower lip between your teeth and gnawing lightly at it. “It’s too quiet. Isn’t it? Are San and Yeosang okay?”

A sigh passes Jongho’s lips as he looks over at you, then he shakes his head once more.

“They’re probably fine. They–”

As though on cue, the comm pressed to the shell of your ear crackles to life, and Jongho winces as his does the same, the suddenness of the action catching you both off-guard.

“Hey, it’s me.” You and Jongho both exchange a glance, one that holds a bit of disappointment as it’s only Seonghwa’s voice that crackles through the comms channel. “I’m just checking in – have you made it yet?” You know that the ‘you’ in his sentence is figurative — something to keep Hongjoong from catching onto what’s really going on behind the scenes.

“No, they haven’t – we, I mean, we haven’t gotten there yet,” you reply, keeping your tone to a quiet minimum.

“Can you hear me? Hello?” Relief finally comes, and San’s voice is like warm honey against your ear.

“San,” you exhale. Your jaw stutters a bit as you try to come up with something else to say, but San continues speaking before you get the chance to say anything.

“We just got past a radio barrier. I’ve been trying to reach you guys for at least ten minutes.”

“Well, comms are back online, it seems,” Seonghwa responds, voice fading a bad at the tail end of his sentence. Jongho extends a hand towards you and drops it atop your thigh. It’s a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless, and you pass him a smile of gratitude.

“I told you not to worry,” he murmurs quiet enough to escape the comms. Your smile devolves into a slight frown, and you bring your chin forward again.

“That was the easy part. Now they need to get past the militia barrier and scanners.”

“You don’t have any faith in us?” It’s Yeosang’s voice that crackles over the comms this time, and you huff out a laugh.

“Stay quiet. There might be guards or patrols nearby.” You refuse your attention back to the map before you, trying to pinpoint where the pair might be at this point. “Hey, one of you look to the left. There should be a grey box on the wall. It’s a router to the laser scanners. Maybe tucked closer to the floor?”

“Yeah, yeah, I see one,” San responds quickly.

“Okay, you’ll need to shut that down by pulling a… um, hopefully a red wire out and cutting it? I never took care of these mechanics on jobs.” You swallow around nothing, feeling the heat of Jongho’s stare on the side of your head, but you try to push it out of your mind in favor of focusing on the task at hand.

“On jobs?” San echoes, curiosity clear in his tone. “You were a soldier. What use would have for jobs like these?” You inhale sharply, and the sound carries over the comms with haste.

“Focus, San,” Seonghwa cuts in without giving you a chance to answer his question.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll cut the wire righ–”

“No, no! Wait a second, you need to know something before going in. As soon as that wire is cute, you’ll only have a limited amount of time to get to the infirmary where the serums are stocked. The guards will notice that something is off and that there’s a break-in within the facility so speed is key,” you explain, maintaining your hushed tone from earlier as you trace a finger over the map on the table. “The infirmary will be straight down the hall, then you’ll need to take the first left, two rights, another left, and it’ll be the last door on the left at the end of that corridor. There is a chance that they don’t store the serum in the infirmary, but all new recruits are taken to one before going through induction. I’ve seen it happen too many times to forget it, so I’m fairly confident that that’s also where the operations happen and the serums should be there.”

“And what are we supposed to do if someone is there?” Yeosang inquires. You hesitate a moment, not realizing that he’s speaking to you and not Seonghwa until the lieutenant provides no response.

“Um… kill them,” you mutter. Jongho’s expression doesn’t shift in the slightest, and he remains unreadable as you search his eyes for some sort of reaction. The only response you get is from Yeosang in the form of a huff of air.

“That’s more like the killer I know you to be, Ghost.”

“You don’t know anything about her,” San sneers back without missing a beat. Yeosang hisses through his teeth – a sound that is nothing more than a whistle over the comms channel.

“Am I stepping on little lover boy’s toes, is that it? Seems like you need to bring that up with someone else before you go around claiming things for your own.”

A crash resounds, then a bang against metal that is so loud it rings in both your ears. You can only imagine what’s happening on the other side of the line, whether San and Yeosang are merely fighting with each other or in serious danger.

“Don’t you fucking call her a thing! Should I start referring to Wooyoung as ‘slave’ again?”

“You fuc–”

“Knock it the fuck off, you two.” Seonghwa’s voice growls over the line. His tone is so severe that both you and Jongho sit up a bit straighter in your seats even though he’s not referring to either of you. San and Yeosang fall silent at the sound of Seonghwa’s harsh tone, not daring to make a sound as the lieutenant continues speaking. “Fight over who has a bigger dick later. This is more important than fucking feelings.”

“I’m not the one having trouble keeping feelings in check,” Yeosang spits.

“God, Hongjoong is a fucking moron for putting the two of them on a mission together,” Jongho mutters as he rubs the skin between his eyes. “Like putting fire and ice together and asking them to cooperate.”

“Yeosang. Don’t make me tell you twice. Do not start shit, and get the damn mission done without further trouble.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” It’s more than obvious that Yeosang is biting his tongue through the words, holding back what he truly wants to say in efforts to be cooperative, and you almost respect him for it if not the preexisting annoyance you have surrounding the man.

“You two need to hurry this along,” you say once the silence becomes too palpable to handle. “It’s almost time for a unit to make the rounds and check the systems. You need to get going before the half-hour.”

You don’t get a verbal response from either San or Yeosang, and instead, a reply comes in the form of a loud clang of metal. The line falls quiet after that, not because it’s gone dead but because neither man is speaking anymore, and now it comes down to playing the waiting game as they make their way through the base. You drop a hand atop where Jongho’s rests against your leg and clench your fingers hard around his. The wait causes you to hold your breath. You expect the worst to happen, for one of the two to say that they’ve been caught, or that your map was wrong entirely and you’ve led them into a dead end. The possibilities of failure are endless, and your mind won’t stop running through all of them.

“You said the last door on the left?” Yeosang huffs, radio crackling with noise. You exhale a sigh of relief, and tension falls away from your shoulders once you hear San’s footsteps falling beside Yeosang’s.

“Yes, yes, at the end of the corridor.”

“Yeah, we’re in the right place.”

“Are you certain?”

“It’s a big white door with the word infirmary on it, I’m fairly certain we’re in the right place,” Yeosang retorts through a scoff.

“Well, be careful going in as there could be–”

A crash interrupts your train of thought, leaving you to cut off with a deep sigh, and you roll your eyes to keep from snapping at the pair on the other side of the line.

“Do you have to be so loud and obnox—holy shit.” San’s voice falls quiet, and the insult he threw in Yeosang’s direction must not process because the Elitist doesn’t say a word in reply.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s… There have to be hundreds if not thousands of vials in here. Hell, if only you guys could see this.”

“The serum?” You murmur even though you can assume what San’s answer will be.

“Every single one… all have this strange-looking blue liquid in them.”

A stab of a needle, a syringe going into your skin, a strange blue liquid being pushed into you. Warmth, then the feeling of your blood turning to ice.

Your eyes flutter shut. You bite the inside of your cheek sharply to ground yourself, keep yourself from slipping too far into the memory, and Jongho’s hand twists so that his fingers slip through yours. You couldn’t be more grateful for the gesture now; the warmth and comfort in it grounds you just enough to stay on track.

“That’s it.”

“You’re sure?” San inquires, more of a precautionary question than anything else.

“Positive,” you mutter back without hesitation. Seonghwa’s voice crackles over next, a coolly spoken command falling from his lips that has a chill running down your spine.

“Secure the package then.”

“You want us to destroy them all?” San asks. Something twists in your gut, something so unpleasant that you could vomit just from the thought of it. This was the agreement, was it not?

“As many as you can, yes.”

Morality is far too muddy for your liking. Too many hazy and thin lines, too many places where one should read between the lines, and far too many instances in which morals can clash. Life would be much easier if morals didn’t exist at all.

Of all people, you should want these vials destroyed more than anyone else. Yet you can’t shake the thoughts that intruded the precious day, the ones which haven’t left you alone since.

No matter which way you look at the situation, you can only see it as taking away Mingi’s choice. No one is asking him what he wants, and while you understand the reasoning behind that, you cannot grasp how this is the just thing to do. Whether you give him the serum or not, he won’t have a say in the matter. Where is the line drawn? When it comes to morality, when is it okay to take away someone’s consent and leave them with nothing? Surely when it comes to protecting them, but both these options... both can defend him. What then?

“I… Jongho, we – we can’t do this,” you stutter. Jongho’s hand slips away from yours as he turns to look at you. The confusion across his features is more than evident, and you wish you had a proper explanation for him, but your mind is running a hundred miles per second without slowing down. “I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean?” Jongho’s tone holds too much warning in it. You ignore it all.

“Don’t destroy them,” you call over the comms. “San, Yeosang, don’t destroy them.”

“Why? This is what we agreed on! We were supposed to destroy them!” In the back of your mind, you wonder if San might hate you for this.

“I agreed to nothing,” you murmur, unable to keep your voice steady for much longer. Yeosang snorts.

“Then what was the point of coming here? We aren’t going to do anything except break in and leave empty-handed?”

“What are you doing, Y/N?” Jongho presses further, and his tone is much firmer than before. You can’t bear to look him in the eye – the weight of that feels too heavy on your shoulders.

“I – this is – I’m sorry. I’m sorry, J-Jongho, I–” Your words fail you. You want nothing more than to curl into a ball and shy away from Jongho’s lingering stare. There’s a certain kind of disappointment hiding behind his dark irises, one that takes you back to an all too unpleasant memory.

“How could you do this, Y/N?” This is the last memory you want to revisit right now, but you can’t keep it from overwhelming you in mere seconds.

“How could you be so selfish?” Iron bars separate you from the man, but it doesn’t keep you from catching the gleaming emotion in his eyes. “They won’t give you the luxury of death, don’t you realize that? They’ll take everything from you. Leave you as an empty shell. Throw you to the wolves. They’re going to take you away from us, Y/N.”

“Hyunwoo, I already said t–”

“Just give me some more time. We’ll get this sorted out.”

“How? There’s no fixing this, Hyunwoo! We were caught. I was caught! How do you expect to fix that?”

“I would rather die than see them take your memories of us away.”

Your chin falls to your chest. Your body no longer feels like your own, more like someone has possessed you and taken control, and that’s the only way you can justify the next words that tumble from your lips.

“Yeosang, secure some vials, as many as you think is reasonable.”

“What the hell are you thinking? Are you even thinking?” San’s words sink deep into your chest, penetrating your skin with a pain that’s worse than a knife or bullet. Out the corner of your eye, you can see Jongho’s eyes blow wide open as shock overtakes him as well. “This isn’t the time to joke around, Y/N!” You bite at the inside of your cheek, letting the metallic tinge of blood hit your tongue and swirl through your mouth rather than offering any sort of response to San.

“…Seonghwa?” Yeosang is asking for confirmation, for Seonghwa to overrule you or agree with you, and you don’t know what to expect from the lieutenant until he breathes deeply from his end of the comms.

“Do as told. Secure some vials and get the hell out of there.”

Yeosang is in the midst of replying to Seonghwa’s order when the sound of shattering glass resounds. You don’t need to be present to know what is going on, and Yeosang’s shouts confirm those suspicions easily.

“San, you fucking idiot, what are you doing?”

“I refuse to let this happen!” San counters, tone equally scathing and booming.

“I’m not – San, please, I’m not saying to give the serum to Mingi!” You argue. Every ounce of your tone is weak, too fragile to compete with the rage filling San’s, and you’re certain the words fall on deaf ears. “I can’t do – I can’t take away Mingi’s choice like this, San. If he wants it, then please. Please, if he wants it then we will need to have the serum on hand. If you would just listen to reason for a mo—”

A shrill ringing hits your ear so hard that you wince, and Jongho does the same at your side.

“He just triggered a fucking alarm,” Yeosang hisses through the din. “And won’t quit with his idiotic behavior of knocking the vials off the shelves.”

“You need to stop him, Yeos—”

“I already got three, Hwa. All that’s left is to knock the idiot out seeing as this was not part of the mission.”

“You – You can’t leave without him,” you stammer, head throbbing from the insistent blaring of alarms surrounding Yeosang’s voice.

“I know that. Your little lover boy will be fine once he’s done fucking things up royally.”

The table shudders and your cup clatters as Jongho pushes to his feet, thighs bumping against the lip of the metal, and you have to strain your neck to examine his face.

“Yeosang can’t get out of there with San alone,” he explains without sparing you even the smallest glance. Your heart strains painfully in your chest. What was the cost of your morality? To have Jongho not bear to even look at you? To hear San speak to you with such disdain in his voice? You cannot imagine morality is worth it at all if this is the cost.

“Please sit down,” you beg, hand stretching out desperately to catch hold of Jongho’s sleeve. “There should be – there’s a back exit across the hall, through the door and to the right. Yeosang, you can get out through there.”

“Easy enough. San’s like a feather compared to you, Jongho. I’ll be fine on my own.” The claim appeases the dark-haired Berserker for the time being, and he sinks back down to the bench without another word. You’re more than grateful for the huffs coming from Yeosang and ringing alarms in the background that fill the messy silence hanging between you and the man. “The exit is right here. Where do I go after?”

“Um, you take the first left you can find and follow the path you used to get there. You’ll recognize it, at least you should. Hopefully, all the guards will be inside thanks to the alarms. We should meet you near the hangar bay.”

“Meet him closer than that,” Seonghwa cuts in. His voice has fallen to whisper, no doubt to shroud the words from Hongjoong’s ears. “He can’t carry San the whole way back with the vials on his person too. He’ll need help getting back with both in one piece regardless of what he claims.”

“He’s right,” Jongho mutters. This time when he stands up, he takes hold of your arm and pulls you with him. The grip is surprisingly gentle and light, and for a moment it feels as though you have done nothing wrong in his eyes. “Can’t believe how quickly things went to shit.”

It is an opportunity to apologize. You recognize that much, but your damn pride screams at the edges of your thoughts and tells you not to apologize for doing the right thing.

“It’s fine,” you utter instead. Defeat creeps in like a plague. “Everyone got out in one piece.” Jongho’s gaze shifts to meet yours.

“At what cost? Hongjoong will tear the crew apart because he can’t think straight, and now – now you would join him in that? What are you thinking?” The confrontation hits you square in the chest, and you nearly trip over your own feet as Jongho continues to guide you along. For several moments, all you can manage are a few shakes of your head.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t the agreement for you to stay but… Mingi needs to make this choice. Not Hongjoong, not Yunho, not San, not you. It has to be Mingi.” Silence ensues between the two of you. You can only drink it in for the few precious moments it lasts before Jongho struggles through his next statement.

“Deep down… I know you’re right, and deep down I know that my desires are selfish and biased.” Jongho manages to maintain his steady pace, eyes so focused on the ground before him that he nearly walks into a wall before you move him aside. “But if I let him go through with this procedure, I don’t know what I will do. Remaking Mingi is a cost too high. I would not be able to have my redemption, I would not be able to see my family ever again, and I – I would not be able to forgive myself either.”

You come to a sudden halt where you are, and the pause forces Jongho to jerk back and face you at last. His eyes shine in a way that hurts to look at, tears that threaten to spill over, but he pulls them back before they can fall.

“Listen, Jongho, I don’t know what happened with your family, and I’m not asking to know that either. That needs to be something that comes from you when you are ready and no one else. But there are no rules for redemption. Believe me, I have tried to find them and I have tried to follow them. It can come from anywhere and anything. My redemption – mine is in the form of a handful of pardon papers with no signature on them, and I am waiting for the day where I can forgive myself enough to put that name on there and hand them over. That door – it has been closed many times, but that doesn’t mean that the door is locked. It means that there will be another opportunity in the future. The same goes for you and Mingi. Giving Mingi this choice could be your redemption for all you know. Helping him and making sure that he gets to do something for himself, that he gets to make a choice based on what he wants.”

“It’s… it’s always been about helping Mingi,” Jongho whispers. His lip quivers as he speaks the words, raw emotion pouring through, and in that moment you can truly see the level of restraint and control Jongho has over his emotions. Even when on the verge of tears, the Berserker exudes no anger, no aggression – merely pure and untouched feelings. As vulnerable as the moment is, you know that if you don’t get moving now, Yeosang will be at risk of getting caught especially with an unconscious San and stolen goods on his person. You force your feet back into motion, and Jongho moves alongside you with little resistance.

“There can be a solution then, Jongho, by making sure that Mingi is the one to make the decision.”

“You’re r-right. I know that that has always been an option but I fear what Mingi might say. And I fear the hold that Hongjoong’s word has on Mingi. I cannot trust him to make a completely individual decision without being influenced by Hongjoong in some way.”

“And what if Mingi didn’t know where Hongjoong stood on the issue?”

“That’s… a possibility, for sure. He may not know what Hongjoong would want or ask of him; he could only assume. But he doesn’t operate on assumptions, just as he doesn’t make choices for himself. How is he supposed to know which one is right?” You wish you had the time to stop Jongho again and look him in the eye.

“I can’t pretend to know or understand Mingi better than you do, Jongho. But of all people, you should be the one able to answer that question, no?”

“I should be, yes.” Jongho lets his sentence trail off with a sigh, and he brings a hand up to comb through his hair, pushing it off his forehead with the movements. “I know that Mingi will make the decision that feels best to him. I worry because there are so many unknowns involved. However, I-I want to give the choice over to him, and I want to give him a chance, if nothing else. At the end of the day, all I want is for Mingi to be alright.”

“Then be the one to give this to him, please.” Perhaps you are merely searching for some sort of justification, something that makes your decision okay and fair, and perhaps it is selfish of you to thrust this onto his shoulders rather than bear the weight yourself. But as Jongho nods, everything feels okay for that brief moment. Then the Berserker disappears from your side before you can blink, and a flash of blond appears in front of you. It takes some time for you to recognize Yeosang standing there, profusely sweating to the point where his bangs are glued to his forehead thanks to the moisture. You hardly process the limpness of San’s body around Jongho’s shoulders as Yeosang passes him over to the Berserker, and you think that if you dwell on it any longer, the pain will be too much to handle.

Then, all of a sudden, Yeosang is facing you head-on and it’s as though you are staring down the gauntlet of death just from the look in his eyes. It doesn’t soften even as Jongho shifts San’s weight in his arms and begins to guide the way back to the hangar.

“Did you get the serum?” You ask, tone so thick that your voice is hardly audible. Yeosang falls into step with you when you move to follow Jongho.

“Of course I did,” Yeosang scoffs as he exposes three vials of stark blue liquid. You blink away before the memory comes swirling back.

“Do you still think it was the right thing to do?”

“What of you? Was your decision the right one?” Yeosang counters without missing a beat.

“Of course it was. Actually giving Mingi a choice in the matter is what’s fair.”

“Then you are naive and narrow-minded, only looking at one part of a larger picture. Think about San’s reaction. Truly stop and think about it. Because of your decision and what you chose to do, you took away his choice in the matter. Jongho’s choice. Seonghwa’s. Mine. The people who didn’t want this did not get a choice, did they?”

“Sometimes, not everyone gets to make a choice. There is right and wrong, and the right thing to do was what I did. Jongho understands that and he agrees with me. He is willing to cooperate and talk with Mingi about this matter.”

“Would San think the same? It didn’t sound like he would earlier. In fact, it sounded like San was so vehemently adamant about it being the wrong thing to do that he was ready to do anything to stop it. You can handle me hating you but I wonder — can you handle San hating you?” You sink your teeth into your lip. The skin splits under the pressure, and you taste blood on the tip of your tongue.

“He will understand that it had to be done,” you whisper. “He has to.”

“Yet you only say that to save yourself from the pain of reality, do you not? You don’t truly believe it. Because after all that he’s been through, don’t you imagine that San finds more security in his own morals than those of others?”

“Stop.” You intend for the word to be spoken with force and anger, but the syllable breaks on your tongue as the corners of your eyes burn with unshed tears. Your lip quivers dangerously, and despite all your efforts, you cannot keep it from happening. Yeosang’s glare is nothing compared to the pain ripping through your chest.

“You don’t even try to pretend to be an Elitist. Perhaps Wooyoung’s suspicions were right.”

“What are you talking about?” You hiss between gritted teeth. Yeosang merely shakes his head and refuses to answer your question.

“To answer your original question,” he continues after a small pause, “yes, it was the right decision. It was the right thing to do. And you – you need to be secure in that. You need to stand by it and be strong. If you knew beforehand that you would not be able to stick to the plan, you should not have dangled opportunity and empty promises before San and Jongho’s eyes.”

“And what would you have done?” You spit.

“I would have done the same as you,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders as though it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I cannot pretend that I would not make the same mistakes you have for my weaknesses are far too obvious in that regard.”

“Wooyoung.” It is spoken more as a statement rather than a question, a mere confirmation of what Yeosang said, and his small nod only adds to that.

“It is clear that you care for San. Whether that care runs as deep as the care Wooyoung and I share for each other is yet to be seen, but I would encourage you to tread carefully. Most pain can be fixed with time, but certain mistakes are irreversible. You’re toying a dangerous line between what can be undone and what can’t.”

“Is this a warning, Yeosang?”

“Not one spoken out of spite, as surprising as that may be. One spoken from experience.” Yeosang’s tone falls a bit quiet with the words, and even though it lasts less than a second, you spot a flickering emotion in his dark eyes. The briefest moment of vulnerability that is gone before you know it. “Regret is a disease, Y/N. Once it blossoms even the smallest bud, it won’t leave as long as you live, even if the worst is yet to come. Even if you haven’t done what you set out to do yet. Even if you have only dreamed about crossing that line in your worst nightmares. It never leaves you, and I would not wish that pain on even my worst enemies.”

It hurts to swallow, like you are trying to down a brick that has somehow lodged itself in the column of your throat, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the silence. You don’t have to suffer in it for much longer either, because the shadow of the ship looms before you, tucked away inside the hangar and shrouded from prying eyes as it has been throughout your whole stay on the planet. Jongho shifts San’s weight on his shoulders as he slips through the airlock and turns to face you and Yeosang.

“I’ll take San to the medbay to let him rest. You two should probably head straight to the bridge.” His gaze lingers on your face for a little while longer. You wait, expecting him to say something more, but that never comes and you are left with his silence until he turns on his heel and heads down the corridor.

Yeosang doesn’t wait for you to gather your bearings before doing the same, walking in the opposite direction, and you nearly trip over your feet in your rush to chase after him. He provides no conversation, although given what he shared with you not long ago, you aren’t sure you even want to hear him speak out of fear of how much it might hurt. His warning has left the bitter taste of ambiguity and curiosity on the back of your tongue. It was always clear that he cared for Wooyoung more than anyone else, but for him to speak with such pain in his eyes – however brief that pain may have been – means that the pair have been through more together than you initially imagined. And if Yeosang could barely conceal his pain effectively as an Elitist, you cannot imagine what kind of pain you would have seen had Wooyonug been the one telling you that. And somewhere in the back of your mind, a vague and fuzzy image arises of San’s face, eyes filled with that pain and tears that you wish not to think about. You can at least be glad when you reach the bridge to find Seonghwa standing there alone, eyes watching the entrance with bated breath. He heaves a deep sigh when you and Yeosang step through, fists relaxing by his sides.

“Jongho and San?”

“Medbay,” Yeosang mutters, stepping around the lieutenant to get to Hongjoong’s quarters. Seonghwa lets him go without a fight, but the moment you try to do the same, he slips in front of you. Hands find your shoulders, and his grip hovers between a firm hold and a gentle touch. It is the most minimal form of intimacy, but it’s more than you have had from Seonghwa in at least a week.

“What happened out there?” You know what he’s referring to and what he’s asking but you cannot provide the answer he’s searching for.

“Nothing happened,” you mutter back. Seonghwa’s touch disappears, and you curse yourself for missing the warmth so much. It returns less than a second later as he presses his hands to the underside of your jaw and cradles your face as though you’re made from glass. He doesn’t utter a word for too long; instead, his gaze continues to trail over every centimeter of your features like he’s trying to memorize the sight in front of him or see through you to find the truth. You know it’s not logical but it feels as though hours pass before he speaks again.

“We can talk later. Right now we ought to see Hongjoong about this mess.”

“I would rather be anywhere else.”

Seonghwa tilts his chin to the side, pondering your words for a few seconds, and then he nods slowly. It’s like he can see straight through your walls without having to do more than blink.

“You should go see San. Check on him and see if he’s doing well. Yeosang and I can easily handle Hongjoong on our own.”

You return the words with a nod of your own and pull away from Seonghwa to do as told. You don’t get more than a foot away, however, Seonghwa’s fingers closing around your wrist and pulling you forward once more. Air catches in your lungs. Your eyes find his nearly onyx ones, refusing to break contact even to blink as he guides you back with hesitant steps. You gasp out a shaky exhale when your back hits the wall. Seonghwa doesn’t stop moving forward until he’s intruded on your breathing space, lips so close to yours that if you exhale too much, your mouths would connect.

“How foolish of me to think that I was going to… forgive me for being greedy, I – I missed this,” Seonghwa whispers.

“Being physical or me?”

“Need I remind you that I swore I would not have you unfairly?” Seonghwa tilts his head back only to huff out a laugh. When he returns to his original position, you are right there to greet him with a kiss, slotting your lips against his with a force that surprises the both of you. Seonghwa inhales sharply, and his shoulders tense from the shock of the action before he settles into the touch and presses back into your lips with equal fervor. You refuse to part until you’re desperate for air, pulling away to breathe in each other’s air. “I suppose that means you missed me as well?”

The question is meant to be teasing and nothing more. You are well aware of that, and yet it flips an invisible switch in your head that sends you reeling.

“Did you miss me, Y/N?”

Bright, bright eyes sparkling with all the love in the universe.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I would give my life for yours if you would just let me.”

Your chin dips closer to your chest, shrouding yourself from Seonghwa’s prying gaze until he shifts with you in attempts to make eye contact.

“I’m here, Y/N, talk to me.”

“Don’t subject me to a life without you in it, Jisung.”

Seonghwa’s fingers brush over your chin, and he lifts your face just enough to examine your distraught expression with one that is equally concerned and distressed.

“I-I…” The words you truly want to say die on your tongue.

“I could never. I love you far too much to do that.”

Gone.

“I’m here, Y/N.”

“Promise me that you won’t.”

Jisung is gone.

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

“I swear on my life that I’ll never leave you.”

Perhaps promises are made only to be broken and that is the only reason why he could not maintain the one he made to you. You’re certain that your life could be described as the sum of broken promises, and all you can amount to is a gross combination of bitterness and pessimism. Even though Seonghwa says he isn’t going anywhere, you can’t shake the pain that has overstayed its welcome yet refuses to go away. You would put all your trust in him if not for that same pain. You owe him an explanation – a decent one in the very least, and a proper one since he’s been so patient and gentle with you – and yet all you can manage to do is slip out of Seonghwa’s grasp.

“I – Hongjoong needs you more than I do right now,” you whisper. Looking up at Seonghwa’s expression provides a completely new punch in the gut, and you could burst into tears on the spot just from the sight of it.

“Yet even if you did need me more, would you let me help you?’ Seonghwa asks. His tone does not rise about a whisper, and you know that is merely because it conceals most of the wobble in his voice.

“If I knew what I needed, then yes.” You release a dry laugh, and it sears your throat as it breaches the air before you, hand coming up to comb through your hair. Seonghwa says nothing more. It may not be an opportunity to leave but you take it as one, slipping back out through the corridor and leaving in the direction you came.

Each step away from the bridge seems heavier than the last. You aren’t sure if it’s the exhaustion finally catching up to you and hitting hard or if the emotional distress has caused it, but walking all the way to the medbay is a struggle of its own. The hazy thoughts that occupy your mind don’t help in the slightest, especially those surrounding the fuzzy and unwelcome memories of Jisung. Sheer willpower is the only thing keeping you on your feet at this point surely because otherwise you would collapse or pass out on the floor outside the door.

The metal door slides open to reveal the white expanse of the medbay, only disturbed by San’s presence on one of the beds and Yunho’s form sitting at the foot of his bed with a tablet in hand. Yunho snaps his chin in your direction the moment you step through, eyes flipping from apprehension to something more relaxed once he realizes who you are. San seems to be comfortably asleep with no wires or tubes connected to him. Just resting. You wonder how long it’s been since he had this sort of opportunity to rest without being disturbed.

“You just missed Jongho,” Yunho says, returning his focus to the tablet. “Couldn’t bear to be around me any longer.” A scoff follows, and you shift your weight from foot to foot.

“Is everything alright between the two of you?”

“I’m supposed to be the doctor, not you.” Yunho laughs, a sound that is loud and clear but does not disturb San’s rest in the slightest. Your gaze trails over the Spectre before coming to a halt on Yunho’s side profile. You shrug even though he isn’t looking at you, hoping that he will catch the motion in his peripheral.

“What happens when the doctor needs someone to talk to?”

“He goes to the captain.”

“What about now? Would you go to the captain now?”

Yunho pushes the tablet onto his lap. Sharp brown eyes flitter up to meet yours, and the first and only thing you notice is a certain lackluster gleam in them. The usual confidence and grandeur to his aura is dull and dismal. He nods his head towards a spare stool, and you’re quick to drag it forward and sit near the foot of the bed.

“No, I wouldn’t. But you’re probably wondering what I’m thinking too. After preaching about how awful the military was for taking away your choices, how could I of all people stoop so low?”

“Everyone sees situations differently.”

“I regret bringing it up and making it an option.” Yunho toys with a loose thread on the blanket under him as he speaks. You’ve never thought the man to be young – childish and immature in some regards, mostly thanks to his jokes and sense of humor – but he has never looked to be a child in your eyes.

Right now, with his legs pulled under him and hands clenching the white blanket, you can say with confidence that Yunho looks like a child. One who is lost and without direction, seeking answers to questions that he cannot ask. And yet, it only makes sense that he would appear that way. He mentioned how he grew up in his mother’s profession learning medicine and tending to wounded people day in and day out. The festival was a luxury he only got once a year, and from the way he spoke of it, it sounded like it was the sole luxury he had.

So no, you have never seen Yunho in this light, but now it is clearer than ever that Yunho suffers and struggles because he was a child who was forced to grow up too quickly.

“A good doctor wouldn’t do that.” He speaks in such a way that sounds as though he is trying to convince himself of that fact rather than you.

“Are you a bad doctor for one mistake?”

“I am a bad doctor for not being able to properly help Mingi.”

“Why is that your job though? Especially when Jongho says that he’s the one best equipped to handle it.”

“I witne–it’s just in my nature. I have seen too much pain in my life to sit idly by and watch others suffer. I have to help people, no matter who they are or what they are. I have to fix them because if not then — then I… what am I if I don’t? A failure of a doctor. So if this fixes Mingi then why would I not take that chance?”

“Would a good doctor take away someone’s choice?” You inquire. “Do you not give every other member of the crew one? Why is Mingi different?”

“Nothing else works. What am I supposed to do? All possible treatments over the past six years have failed. The progress we’ve made is minimal at best but Mingi is still in pain. As a doctor, I am supposed to take that pain away but I only see it getting worse and worse with time as he learns more and understands his feelings better. For what? I know that it’s because of me. I just… I want to take it away.”

“What are you trying to do, Yunho? Are you afraid? Is that it?”

Yunho doesn’t respond right away; instead, he glances down at San’s resting face with tears welling in the corners of his eyes. His next breaths come in shaky gasps – desperate attempts to keep from falling apart. You have only seen him look so fragile and vulnerable once before: when he held a gun to a thug’s head and told him to move out of the way.

“I am only afraid of one thing and that is failure,” Yunho admits once the silence has dragged on for a bit. “And every time I look at Mingi, I see a reflection of my failures. Forgive me for doing things that will take away that reflection.”

There is a stark selfishness in Yunho’s words, an inherent interest to save himself rather than Mingi, and that sends a surge of anger through your veins. You huff air through your teeth, letting the sound ring before standing up and moving towards the door once more. You hesitate just before stepping out and turn to face Yunho head-on as you speak your next words.

“I won’t forgive you for being a coward who is afraid to face the thing he fears most or for being a selfish prick who only cares about his own pain. You can run all you want but don’t ask for forgiveness.”

It puts Yunho on the defensive; his eyes blaze and he sits up a bit straighter with a hardly concealed venom to his gaze.

“And you would know that feeling well, wouldn’t you?” He laughs, and this time the sound holds none of its usual mirth and brightness. “Running? That’s all you’ve ever done. You can’t outrun who you used to be because you are too afraid to lose it. Letting go and moving on is your biggest fear and the thing that holds you back the most. You can stand there and preach about how I should face my fears that are practically trivial compared to yours while you do what? Keep running and clinging to the past?”

You aren’t aware of the tears in your eyes until they hit your cheeks, leaving a path of messy streaks down to your jawline. Yunho has surely already seen the effect his words have on you, but you jerk your head away from his prying gaze anyway and glare at the metal of the door.

“So much for being a good doctor,” you hiss out with as much stability as you can manage. Then you are out the door and gone into the hall. There is nothing more to say, and his words have already taken root in your chest, stretching its reach far into your veins, and every fragmented memory and broken flashback you’ve had throughout the day comes rushing back with the force of a typhoon.

“I could never. I love you far too much to do that.”

“Promise me that you won’t.”

“I swear on my life that I’ll never leave you.”

Every muscle in your body feels heavier than lead, and you aren’t sure how you manage to keep pushing yourself forward without collapsing. The tremble in your fingers is a sign of what’s to come, panic surges through your veins and swells around your vision, and you reach out to brace yourself on the wall.

“Just give me some more time. We’ll get this sorted out.”

“How? There’s no fixing this, Hyunwoo! We were caught. I was caught! How do you expect to fix that?”

“I would rather die than see them take your memories of us away.”

What would they say if they could see you now? Perhaps you replaced them too quickly? You were quick to push them out of your life? What did Hyunwoo sacrifice himself for? Your self-destructive plan to pardon his crimes and put yourself back in jail?

The memories swirling around you are so vivid that you can almost feel Jisung’s hand in yours when he appears at the forefront of your mind. That vision doesn’t last for long though because something new and unwelcome hits you out of nowhere. It strikes with enough force to make you stumble and collapse to your knees, fingers clenching against the cold floor as a new image comes to life.

Everything is dark around you, save for the pale yellow moonlight that filters through a small grate in the ceiling. You can hardly see the scenery outside thanks to the puffy clouds covering the round and full moon. Your prison rattles as the driver hits a bump in the road, then a horse neighs, and you curl into yourself more. The shackles around your wrists are heavy, chains dragging on the floor of your walled cage, but the thick collar about your neck is the only one you can feel. It’s tight enough to choke you, letting you breathe just enough to stay conscious but nothing more than that. Somewhere off to your left, there is some whispering. You can’t understand it – the language is foreign and strange to your ears – but when you glance over, you find a child bearing similar shackles as you.

“Lasu – lasu kan tan wogo?”

You don’t respond even as her eyes meet yours.

“Lasu kan tan wogo?”

The image disperses, her whispers fading into a vague nothingness as you return to reality, and all you can see is the haze of the lights above you blurring with the walls. The edges of your vision are speckled with black dots, and your head hurts so badly you can barely keep your eyes open. You don’t have to for much longer because you can feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness, but just before you do, you see a pair of unfamiliar black boots approaching you.

Warmth. Everything is warm as strong arms slip around your body and lift you high with overwhelming ease. Nothing about the touch or scent of the person is familiar, and you know that it can’t possibly be Jongho or Wooyoung. It shouldn’t be San or Yunho either, but that’s more logical than a random intruder coming onto the ship. A hand brushes over your forehead, hot against your clammy and cold skin.

“I could sense your distress all the way from the cargo bay.”

A man. Cargo bay. Sensing your distress. A Berserker? A Siren? Seonghwa? Not possible, he wasn’t anywhere near the cargo bay.

“It’s okay; you can calm yourself some. Just rest for now.” His tone is so gentle and warm. He could put you to sleep just like this, and it only takes one more sentence for him to do so. “I’ll bring you to Healer.” Your body falls completely limp in his grasp and darkness takes over you, a pleasant sense of calm rushing to greet you as you slip into unconsciousness.

…

The walled prison has returned stronger than before. The road remains bumpy and rocky as you ride along in the darkness, the same child still sitting a foot away from you with her knees tucked close to her chest. You eye her form with a sense of wariness; her nonsensical mutterings haven’t ceased. In fact, they’ve only increased in both volume and quantity no matter how obvious you try to be about ignoring her.

“Lasu kan tan wogo? Cezi, lasu kan tan wogo?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you mutter as a new word comes into her sentences.

“Hosun gatu lu!”

“I don’t know what you’re saying. I’m sorry, I-I can’t help you.”

“Lasu kan tan wogo?” Her ceaseless mutterings return, and you let her voice fade into the background as you look around the cell. You don’t know how long things carry on like that, with noisy chains and neighing horses drowning out the foreign words. When the prison comes to a halt at long last, you don’t know what to expect next. Ahead of you, a door bursts open to reveal several cloaked figures shrouded by the moonlight. One reaches forward and grabs hold of your chains, jerking you roughly. You blink against the harsh light filtering in behind them, unable to defend yourself as the person pulls you out of the cage.

More cages just like your own fill your vision. They are all around you, filling the rocky and flat terrain like they belong there, all containing people of all ages in chains like yourself. Another figure tugs your companion out of the prison, and her voice grows in volume as she continues to repeat her question over and over. No one answers her.

You don’t know what comes over you – perhaps a surge of panic and fear – but you yank against your captor’s grip with as much force as you can manage.

“H-Help! Someone – someone help!” You cry out, voice croaking like a frog, and your throat burns from the effort. One of the chained prisoners in front of you turns at the sound of your voice. Dark charcoal hair flutters in the still air as he whips around to face you, eyes wide and curious as they land on you. All the air leaves your lungs. Your heart constricts painfully in your chest, and you choke on nothing as his face comes into focus.

Wooyoung.

A cloaked man steps in front of you and effectively blocks your line of sight before you can examine the sight further.

Wooyoung.

A searing pain blossoms over your cheek, and it takes a moment for you to process that the person has just punched you.

Wooyoung.

Another blow comes down on your head. You feel your body go down before your mind catches up, and you enter a harsh freefall. Your chains clatter as you tumble to the ground.

“Y/N!”

“Wooyoung!” You jolt awake, chest heaving as you gasp in deep breaths of air. There’s only one person in the room with you when you wake up, and you don’t need to see him to know who it is thanks to the shrill yelp he releases upon hearing your outburst. He slips backwards and falls off the stool he was sitting on, ass hitting the floor roughly. Ironically enough, it’s Wooyoung who now sits on the floor with wide and curious eyes.

“Holy fuck, you scared the shit out of me!” He exclaims, lips folding into a soft pout. “You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be though. You haven’t even been resting for that long.”

You glance around the room, taking in the white walls of the medbay, and your gaze shifts to the bed where San had been earlier. It’s empty now, made in such a way that makes it look like no one was ever there to begin with.

“S-San? Where is he?” You stammer as Wooyoung pulls himself back to his feet.

“He woke up not too long ago and went straight to the bridge to talk to Hongjoong.” Wooyoung brushes his hands over his thighs, rubbing the fabric of his pants until it’s clean of dirt. When he sits back on the stool, he folds one leg under him and peers at you with a skeptical gaze. “Why’d you say my name when you woke up?”

“I…” How are you supposed to explain your dream when you don’t understand it yourself? The strange language, the weird scenery, Wooyoung – you aren’t sure where to even start with it. “Di-Did – I, um, have a question. Did w-we know each other at one point?”

Wooyoung’s frown deepens. He leans back a bit, eyes scanning your expression for any sign of humor or sarcasm there.

“Did you hit your head or something?”

“No, no, just – did we know each other at one point?”

“Um… before you came to the ship, I had never seen you or known who you were. I only heard about you through word of mouth and bounties. Why do you ask?”

“I had t-this dream, and you were in it. In chains and a collar like the one you have now, but… but I was too? I don’t know what it means.”

“It was just a dream, Y/N,” Wooyoung says. He shakes his head a bit, bangs shifting on his forehead, and the image of him whipping around to face you in that misty landscape returns.

“It felt real. It didn’t feel like a dream – more like a memory.”

“I really didn’t know you before you came to the ship, Y/N. I don’t know what you think – who you think I am, but… I don’t know. Maybe you heard me and Yunho talking while you were asleep? And that’s why I showed up in your dream?”

That is debatable at best, but you opt not to voice your doubts.

“Where is Yunho anyway?”

“Ah, he didn’t want to be here when you woke up. Thought you wouldn’t want to see him.”

“It’s probably the opposite actually,” you huff.

“Yeah, I – Yunho told me what happened,” Wooyoung explains. He tilts his head from side to side as he ponders his next words then slides his stool forward so that he can prop his elbows on the bed. “You know Yeosang and I have spent a lot of time together. Lots of years at each other’s side and lots of time in each other’s space. We’ve said a lot of things that were harsh. We’ve been cruel to one another with our words and what we say. Been hurtful and mean and torn each other apart. Not because we don’t care – quite the opposite really. Sometimes our fear overshadows how we feel about one another. Misunderstandings happen, tempers flare, people say things they don’t mean in the heat of the moment. But that doesn’t mean that it should or will ruin your relationship with them. Hell, Yeosang is an Elitist. He barely shows an ounce of emotion most of the time, and I struggle with that because I just have to take his word for his feelings. I don’t get the pleasure of seeing how much he cares about me all the time because he can’t always show it. We’ve struggled with that together and individually, but we never let it destroy us.”

“You and Yeosang must really love each other if you’re so confident about that.” Wooyoung offers a weak smile in response to your words, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes.

“We do…”

“Why don’t you sound certain then?”

“I love him, and he loves me. That’s it. It can’t go anywhere, and we don’t put a label on anything because we simply can’t.” Wooyoung stops himself from saying anything else, and his gaze drops to the mattress.

“Why not?” You don’t get an answer straight away, although that isn’t Wooyoung’s fault.

“Crew to the bridge.” It’s Seonghwa’s voice, as even and steady as ever, and both you and Wooyoung glance up to the speaker in the corner of the room. Wooyoung doesn’t move a muscle, however, and he continues to stare at you with an unchanging expression before he answers your question.

“We went to a fortune teller once – just the two of us before we even joined the crew or knew anything about pirates. To see my future, not Yeosang’s, but… when the woman looked into my future, Yeosang wasn’t in the picture. She said that we were not meant to be in each other’s lives. Our meeting was a mistake, and it was not what fate had planned for us. And as such, any attempts we made to stay close to each other would inevitably end in flames. All because the stars didn’t align for us.” Wooyoung laughs weakly before he glances back up to your face.

“Do you truly believe it?” You inquire in a quieter tone, matching Wooyoung’s solemn expression. The man heaves a deep sigh. A smile stretches his lips but it isn’t kind or humorous in the slightest, merely painful. That thought you had of seeing how much pain Wooyoung would be in when speaking of Yeosang suddenly comes to life before your eyes, and it is far worse than you imagined it would be.

“Every time I kiss him, it feels like someone is digging a hole in my chest and prying my ribcage open so they can carve my heart out. Does that sound like fate to you?” Wooyoung pulls himself up and sits straight as a board. “I don’t care for fate or destiny. I would rather it not exist, but I can’t deny the feeling that I get in my chest in those moments of intimacy. In a perfect world, I would get to call him mine without worrying about what fate has planned for us. But this? This is far from a perfect world.”

Whatever words you thought to say die on your tongue in the face of Wooyoung’s dismal explanation.

“Crew to the bridge,” Seonghwa repeats, sounding a tad more exasperated this time around.

“Come on, let’s get up there before we make them mad. You’ll be okay to walk?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you reply with a nod, letting Wooyoung pull you to your feet. “Who was it who brought me in here anyway? I think I passed out before I saw.”

“Mingi!” Wooyoung beams, and his smile stretches so wide that his nose scrunched up and his cheeks shine. “I stepped out of my room right as he was walking by with you, and he told me that he found you having a panic attack in the hallway.”

“All possible treatments over the past six years have failed. The progress we’ve made is minimal at best but Mingi is still in pain.”

“It’s amazing, honestly. A few years ago, he probably would have killed you to put you out of your misery had he found you. But now – now he knows how important saving people is to Yunho, and he understands it even if he doesn’t agree with it.”

“And every time I look at Mingi, I see a reflection of my failures. Forgive me for doing things that will take away that reflection.”

It is clear to you in that moment that somewhere along the way, Yunho got things twisted. He viewed progress and growth in terms of the amount of pain a person was in, not the shifts in their decisions and opinions. And surely there are reasons for that – perhaps that story Hongjoong mentioned of how Mingi killed Yunho’s lover affected things in some way – but you cannot shake the feeling that it runs deeper than that. The boy who grew up too fast thanks to his profession as a healer is all too similar to the one who was robbed of his childhood to be a killer.

You and Wooyoung are the last to reach the bridge. The crew is spread out more awkwardly than the last time you all were here together: San and Yunho linger off to the side with flat expressions while Mingi and Jongho stand closer together, and Yeosang stands near the captain’s chair, keeping his hands folded neatly behind his back. Seonghwa is on the opposite side of the chair, and he bears a similar stance to Yeosang except he rests a hand on the back of Hongjoong’s chair. It’s close enough to brush over the man’s shoulder, but Seonghwa opts not to and keeps the distance he has currently. You try not to let your thoughts wander back to your exchange with Yunho. He glances up at you when you step onto the bridge though, and the neutrality in his visage crumbles into regret and guilt the moment you lock eyes. Wooyoung has to nudge your arm to get you to continue moving.

“Right, now that we’re all here…” Hongjoong clears his throat and sends a pointed look toward you and Wooyoung that has you both mumbling quiet apologies. “And now that Jongho and Mingi have had time to speak one on one, we need to come to a decision about this whole ordeal prior to leaving tomorrow morning. After no shortage of discussions with the lieutenant, we at last reached an agreement to allow the choice to be Mingi’s and Mingi’s alone.”

Wooyoung’s hand darts out to grab yours, and you’re just as caught off-guard as he is. While he releases an audible gasp, your lips part in a silent one that has you looking over at Seonghwa to gauge his expression. Despite the exhaustion, you find a certain degree of relief there along with a faint smile that blooms when he blinks down at Hongjoong’s head.

“And I believe you’ve explained everything to him, Jongho?”

“I have. As promised, no biases.”

Hongjoong nods only once then turns to Mingi. He stretches a hand out, fingers unfurling to reveal two vials of blue liquid in his palm.

“What would you have me do, Captain?” Mingi inquires the moment Hongjoong reaches forward. For a moment, you think Hongjoong will answer that question truthfully. However, all he does is offer a tight smile.

“I would have you decide what’s best for yourself.”

The tension throughout the room is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and Wooyoung’s grip on your hand increases with each second that passes in silence. Anxiety still bubbles in your gut despite the fact that you got what you wanted. You wanted this for Mingi, you were so desperate for it, but you can’t keep yourself from wondering if it will all go to waste when Mingi makes the choice.

“I… don’t like being in pain,” Mingi starts. Hongjoong’s jaw shifts and his hand wavers, but he manages a steady nod. “And I do wonder what it would be like if I took the serum but… at the same time, I have memories I do not want to let go of. All that’s left of my father are my memories of him. Even if I should despise him for the choices he made, I would not like to forget those things. I have many regrets and have made many mistakes as well but – those are not things I would like to forget. I need them to learn more and better understand why they are mistakes and why I regret them. But I can’t pretend not to know that you would rather me put it behind me and move forward without having that hold me back.”

“I wou–I will not share my bias,” Hongjoong says, lips pressed tight together.

“Even if you did, my decision would remain the same. I don’t want it. Captain, I – Hongjoong, I would rather they be destroyed.”

Hongjoong’s face falls so flat that it terrifies you. You cannot read his next move, whether he’s angry or relieved, any of the thoughts running through his mind are lost on you in his stillness. There are signs of relief on San’s face, as well as Seonghwa’s and Jongho’s, which you expected from them. Yeosang seems to be thinking of something else, and based on Wooyoung’s wavering hold on your hand, he is grateful to hear Mingi’s decision as well. Yunho won’t look up from the floor.

Hongjoong stands up slowly then steps down from the chair to be face to face with Mingi. The Berserker towers over him, but when Hongjoong looks up at the man’s face, you see zero intimidation or fear in either one of them. He lifts one of Mingi’s hands and pushes the two vials into his palm, closing his fingers around Mingi’s.

“However you see fit to destroy them, I would only ask that you be the one to do it.” Hongjoong pulls away from Mingi after that and returns to the captain’s chair to sit back down. “Lieutenant Park constructed the plans for if this was Mingi’s decision, so… he will provide the details himself.”

Seonghwa pulls his arm off the back of Hongjoong’s chair to stand up straighter, nodding to the captain before speaking himself.

“The planet is home to many bunkers thanks to the asteroids circling the planet. In the event that these asteroids fall into the atmosphere and collide with the planet, the inhabitants are to use these bunkers as safe havens to protect themselves from harm. Over time, many bandit crews have taken to claiming bunkers for their own, including our allies in the Bloodletter Crew. I exchanged a call with them last night to discuss the usage of one of these bunkers, and we came to an agreement about allowing Mingi to reside in one of their bunkers for as long as we are out on this mission. It will prevent him from having to go see Vladimir with us, but also protect him from Vladimir’s men circling the ship while we’re gone. They will also take some of the cargo off our hands as that was the price they named for this exchange. A bit of lost money in the long run, but well worth it for the safety of the crew. The bunker they’re providing is not far from our destination, so San and Jongho will accompany Mingi to the bunker and reconvene with the rest of us outside. From there, we conduct the mission as discussed. San and Jongho will take left-wing while Yunho, Wooyoung, and Y/N maintain the right. Yeosang and I will accompany Hongjoong to meet with Vladimir. The wing teams are merely there to watch for any tricks Vladimir might have up his sleeve. He is not beyond assassination attempts in plain sight, so all of you need to be as alert as possible.”

“Is that all?” Hongjoong asks, glancing up at the lieutenant.

“Yes, Captain, everything as we discussed.”

“Very well then, I would advise you all to go and rest now. It’ll be an early morning and a long day tomorrow. And Jongho, if you please stay a moment so we can talk in private. Mingi as well, if you would.”

“Okay, can we have a celebration dinner right now, please! If Jongho is gonna be a while that means he doesn’t get to cook!” Wooyoung exclaims as he tugs his hand away from yours. “Seonghwa, please give us a decent meal for once, I am not too ashamed to beg for it.” The lieutenant snorts and rolls his eyes but steps down from where he’s standing nonetheless.

“Unlike Yeosang, I would not like to hear you beg for anything. I’ll still treat you all either way though.”

Wooyoung sputters at Seonghwa’s comment, cheeks flushing a bright red in seconds, and you can’t keep from smiling at the small exchange. San moves with Seonghwa when the man steps forward, and Wooyoung returns to grab your hand before trying to drag you from the bridge in his excitement. Jongho stays behind as asked, and Mingi lingers at his side as asked. Yeosang is the last to move, waiting for Yunho to catch up before falling into step with him. You are about to bring your chin forward to focus on making sure that Wooyoung doesn’t guide you into a wall, but something happens to keep you from doing so.

It is as discreet as possible, but you catch sight of the exchange nonetheless. As you do, your breath hitches in your throat and you forget how to function for a moment. It's the flash of blue that passes from Yeosang's hand to Yunho's, slipping under sleeves with haste so that no one sees it, and the hushed whispers Yeosang hurries to send in the healer's direction. You don't know what they're talking about, but there is a growing hunch that it has nothing to do with Mingi or Hongjoong. Yeosang would not be this secretive if that was the case; no, this is something quite different, something outside of the current situation entirely, and that scares you more than anything else.

✧✧✧ a/n: lmfAO 12K?!? bITCH HOW!!! okay but anyway i honestly forgot what to do with myself it feels like it’s been years since an update and i was so anxious to get this one out and it ended up being !!! 12 fucking k!!!! what the hell!!! crazy stuff fr oml i hope you enjoy seriously, this one was a joy to write and i enjoyed it so much so i hope that translates and you enjoy as well!!

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @takitaro @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 3

3 - an examination of agent tequila and why he takes rejection so damn hard

summary: after tequila is on the receiving end of your stress, jack decides to help you de-stress in the only way he knows how: alcohol. what could go wrong? (series masterlist)

warnings: language

honestly this might be my fave chapter yet

- jazz

song for this chapter: oil on water by bastille

Within a few weeks of being in New York City, you’d fallen into a routine.

You missed London, truly and deeply, but it was almost as if you didn’t have time to think about it. Between being dragged into more undercover missions with Whiskey, keeping up with Merlin’s demanding schedule and trying to tail Calahan and his contacts, you were lucky if you had time to sit down and have a cup of coffee. Being a Statesman was much more fast-paced than working at Kingsman; you didn’t dislike it by any means, but you had a pool-sized bathtub waiting in your shiny, new apartment that you never got to use. You were pulling five or six late nights a week, usually not leaving the office till 10PM.

Working with Jack Daniels was...an experience. He was nice, in some ways -- he always brought you coffee when he went to get some for himself, and he drove you home on those late nights so that you didn’t have to take the subways. He had a few annoying habits - namely the fact he never seemed to shut up or ever use your real name, instead opting for a thousand different nicknames - but he was more than tolerable. He worked hard and played hard, and you respected that. He helped you stay hot on Calahan’s tail and that was the most important thing.

On your third week in New York, Merlin flew out to see you. You’d been keeping him up to date with weekly briefings, but he’d wanted to come out and have a proper look at the actual work you and Jack had been doing. The evening before he arrived, you’d pulled an all-nighter to try and organise the files. Whiskey seemingly had no organisational skills, instead opting for a stack of folders that had no meaningful order. The paperwork was endless, not unlike Jack’s energy the following morning.

‘Anyways, so I tell the guy to go fuck his moth-’

‘- Jack.’ You held your hand out to him, motioning him to shut the hell up as you rubbed your temples. ‘I appreciate all your funny stories of when you were a fratboy in Yeehaw Land but I have to get this done.’

‘What’s with you this morning, tea?’ Jack looked up from his laptop, brow furrowing. ‘You haven’t insulted me once since you walked through that damn door two hours ago and I’m starting to become concerned.’

‘I just have a lot of work to do.’ You replied. ‘Merlin is landing any minute now and I...how did you put it last week? I’m as busy as a cat covering crap on a marble floor.’

‘Southern sayings don’t quite right with your accent.’ He offered you a smile. ‘So what if Baldilocks is on his way? You’ve been doing your job real good these last few weeks.’

‘Merlin is...particular.’ You let your eyes trail away from your screen and out towards the view of the city beside your desk. ‘Everything has to be perfect or I might as well have spent the last three weeks shitting in my hands and clapping.’

‘They didn’t praise you much at Kingsman, huh?’ Jack quirked an eyebrow.

‘I never gave it much thought but I guess you’re right.’ You shrugged. ‘Why would they praise us for meeting expectations? A slap on the back for doing the bare minimum is pointless.’

It was true: praise at Kingsman was far and few - and you only got for achieving superhuman standards. If you were bad at your job, they would fire you. If they were good, they kept you. That’s how it worked. That’s how it had always worked. You’d never had so much as a well done! or a you’re doing great! from Merlin, nor Harry or Arthur. It had been odd at first but you’d become used to it.

‘What you do is not the bare minimum.’ Whiskey shook his head. ‘You do you know you’re a good agent, right?’

Jack had been impressed with you over the last few weeks. You seemed to embody the very energy of getting shit done. You worked through your lunch breaks and arrived to the office earlier than everyone -- and then you left later than everyone. He was surprised you didn’t hold a more senior position, if anything.

‘I mean, I guess?’ You averted your glance back towards him. ‘I work hard. I’m just hoping it pays off some day.’

‘Just-’ Jack sighed, pausing for a moment. ‘Don’t worry about the paperwork, okay? I can vouch for the fact you’ve worked your pretty little-

‘- watch it, Jack-’

‘- that you’ve worked hard.’ He quickly back tracked on his words.

‘That’s a dollar in the arse comment jar.’

‘I didn’t even get to finish it though!’ He held his hands up in surrender. ‘And it’s not even worth taking those dollars home with you, not with this exchange rate.’

Before the conversation could go any further, Tequila stuck his head around your office door. He’d been out in the field for the last week so you hadn’t seem him that much. Having been in South America, he’d caught a slight tan. That lead your mind back to your previous missions with him -- he’d had terrible Spanish. Truly awful.

‘Merlin is here, Percy.’ He announced. ‘He’s in with Champ now. Come whenever. You too, Whiskey.’

‘Have you ever heard of knocking?’ Jack raised his eyebrows at him.

‘The door was open.’

‘Still, it’s etiquette-’

‘- hey, Patrick! Spongebob!’ You slammed your fist on the table. ‘There’s more important things to worry about.’

Half an hour later, you were waiting outside of a meeting room on the top floor of the Statesman building. Jack, Merlin and Champ were all on the other side of the door, checking over your work. You had no reason to be nervous -- you’d done your job and you’d done it well. Besides, you knew that Whiskey would fight your corner if Merlin became finnicky. He’d said it himself earlier. You appreciated that.

‘I’ve been in Chile the last few weeks.’ Tequila leant against the wall beside you, adjusting his hat as he peered down at you.

‘I know. Your new hat is a Chilean brand and you have a tan.’ You replied, attention still clearly on the door in front of you.

‘Damn. I never pegged you to be so observant.’

‘I’m literally a secret agent.’ You shot back. ‘It’s kind of an entry requirement.’

‘Or maybe...’ He adjusted his stance. ‘It’s because you fancy me.’

‘Fancy you?!’ You turned your head to look at him in disbelief. ‘How old are you? Twelve?’

‘I just mean that you’re single and hot. I’m single and hot.’ He continued, barely faltering. ‘You’ve been working your ass off these last few weeks. If you need help relaxing, you know where-’

Tequila barely had a chance to blink before you’d moved from beside him, pinning him to the wall with an elbow over his throat. He blinked in surprise; both at your speed and strength, especially considering that he was much beefier than you. It wasn’t exactly hard. You’d taken on men twice his size and strength.

‘Try and come onto me again and I will make you eat your hat.’ You threatened.

‘It was just a suggestion-’

‘- did I stutter?’

‘No, ma’am.’ Tequila muttered. ‘Sorry, ma’am.’

‘What in the holy hell is going on here?!’

You hadn’t heard Champ leave the meeting room - or Jack and Merlin for that matter. The three were stood with wide eyes and gaped mouths at the sight of you holding one of their best agents to the wall. You quickly took a step back, letting Tequila fall onto his ass with a sweet thump.

You dusted yourself off. ‘I was simply teaching Agent Tequila the value of workplace boundaries.’

Turning away, you strode off and down the corridor, the sound of your heels clicking against the ground ringing behind you. Tequila might have just been trying to shoot his shot but damn, you were sick of it happening. You’d had it during your training, from some of the guys at Kingsman and especially on missions. The amount of men that assumed you needed a ring on your finger or a proposition from them to have a good time was beyond you. Could you not just do your job? It was one thing to have a flurry of nicknames but you drew the line at being constantly hit on and asked out.

Stalking to your office, you slammed the door behind you and took a seat at your desk. An oh for fuck’s sake! escaped your mouth upon realising that you’d left all of your files with Merlin. That meant no work to do - which meant that the tiredness and consequences of your late night were about to hit you like a ton of bricks.

You made your way over to Jack’s desk, taking a glass and decanting some of the whiskey that was inside it. Drinking on the job wasn’t usually your style, but you were stressed. Calahan was still on the loose. Both of your bosses had just seen you drop kick another agent. It felt like you had been in the States for nearly a month and had no work to show for it.

‘Is it okay if I come in?’

‘It’s your office, Whiskey.’ You didn’t bother turning to face him.

‘Well, that can’t be good - you only ever call me Whiskey when you’re mad.’

Jack was right -- and it was something he’d noticed not long after you’d met. You’d started calling him by his first name not long after you’d pulled your first all-nighter together. He’d given you a ride home and it had started with a thanks, Jack. He’d come to discover that he liked how it sounded when you said it. It was so rare that anyone called him that, that it almost felt like it meant something.

‘Sorry.’ You took the glass, returning to your desk.’ You said. ‘I’m stressed and Tequila didn’t help. There’s paperwork and deadlines and I have done nothing worthwhile since I landed nearly four weeks ago.’

‘That’s not entirely true.’ He replied. ‘You’ve arrested six of Calahan’s spies, found information that lead to a raid on one of his bases and you just hit Tequila harder than a semi to a fox on the highway.’

‘I should probably apologise to him.’ You groaned.

‘I wouldn’t bother, sugar’ Jack shook his head. ‘You’re being too hard on yourself.’

‘Yeah.’ You stared off into the distance, sipping some of your drink. ‘Maybe.’

‘What are you doing tonight?’

You faltered, turning to look at the cowboy in disbelief. ‘Are you serious, Jack?! You just saw me deck Tequila for trying to make a move. You think I won’t slap that moustache right off of your-’

‘- hold your fucking horses!’ He cut you off. ‘If you’d let me finish my goddamn sentence! I was going to offer to show you a bar that I go to when I’m stressed. The alcohol is cheap and the music is good.’

‘You mean as....colleagues?’

‘I was going to say friends.’

---

It was beyond you how Jack had convinced you to come to a cowboy bar in the middle of Manhattan on a Tuesday night. He’d made a few comments about having a stick up your ass, then with a promise to reschedule your meeting the following morning and pay for your drinks, you’d finally said yes. It can’t have hurt to take a night off - in fact, you’d barely had one since you’d got to the city. A few drinks and the company of the most tolerable man at Statesman could do good for you, you figured.

Having changed your heels and dress out for boots, jeans and a leather jacket, you already felt a little more relaxed. The Statesman weren’t even as strict as the Kingsman about what their agents wore, but you had the latter’s emphasis on looking formal so ingrained into your brain that it was practically second nature. The pain of wearing high heels every day was long gone.

The bar itself was as you’d expected. Dimly lit, and filled with people in cowboy hats and boots. There was a country song playing from a jukebox in the corner and the air was stuffy; a mix of tobacco, stale beer and crisps chips.It wasn’t that different from the dodgy pubs you and Eggsy had frequented in your late teens.

Jack was dressed a little more casual too, wearing a button down and leather jacket instead of his usual blazer and tie. What were you here as again...friends or colleagues? Actually, it had been a compromise. Friendly colleagues.

‘Alright, sweetheart, we’ll go here.’ He pulled you over to two empty stalls at the bar. ‘What’s your poison?’

‘Rum.’ You replied.

Jack’s nicknames didn’t bother you anymore. You’d come to accept the fact that they were simply part of his dialect rather than a place of affection. It was the same with Champ, and even Ginger. It was no different to you calling your own colleagues mate or pal.

‘Damn.’ Jack murmured. ‘Off to a strong start.’

You took the glass from his hand, clinking it against his. Naturally, he’d gotten Jack Daniels whiskey. Then again, if you were named after an alcohol, you probably would have drunk it constantly too. But then again again, you drank it constantly anyways.

The evening was a little awkward at first -- what were you supposed to talk about aside from work? That’s what all your previous conversations had been about, even during all your late nights. They usually consisted of Jack reciting stories of wild missions during his younger days as an agent. You had a few crazy ones, but they seemed to pale in comparison. There wasn’t as much crazy shit in Britain.

You didn’t know whether you should have been asking him questions about his personal life. Wasn’t he your boss, formally speaking? Jack was a higher rank than you. He ran the whole damn Manhattan office when Champ was out. That thought was what lead you to realise that you’d hardly given his life outside of the agency much pondering. You knew he didn’t exist solely to be an agent, but he spent as much time working as you did and you existed solely to be an agent.

Did he have a wife? Kids? Based on how long he spent working, you figured it was unlikely. Being an agent didn’t really offer a healthy work-life balance. You knew that he lived in an apartment near Hudson Yards, so that meant he was probably rich too. He did have shares in the company that fronted Statesman, and it was one of the best selling bourbons on the market.

You spent the better part of two hours trying to deduce him through conversation before you realised that you could have just asked. Jack had called you his friend. That counted for something. Plus, you had two hours worth of alcohol and a fair few shots of rum floating around your system. It was liquid courage, after all.

‘So what’s your deal?’ You slapped your fist on the bar.

‘My deal?’ Jack raised an eyebrow at you. ‘The hell d’you mean, sugar?’

‘Like...what’s your life outside of Statesman?’

‘Statesman is my life.’ He quipped. ‘In the same way Kingsman is yours.

‘Damn.’ You murmured. ‘But Kingsman isn’t my whole life.’

‘Oh yeah?’ He smiled at you. ‘What else do you do then?’

‘I have an orchid at home!’ You exclaimed. ‘Although I did ask Eggsy to look after while I’m here so it’s probably dead.’

‘You miss him, don’t you?’

‘The orchid?’

‘No. Eggsy.’

‘Oh, right!’ You let out a tipsy giggle. ‘I mean...yeah. He’s my best mate. This is the longest I’ve gone without seeing him ever. I FaceTimed him the other night but he’s with Tilde.’

‘Girlfriend?’

‘Yeah.’ You solemnly nodded. ‘And do not mistake my sad face for jealousy! I love Tilde. And I love Eggsy. It’s just hard not seeing him, or having someone to bully everyday.’

‘Hey, I’m right here if you need someone!’ Jack nudged you with his elbow. ‘Just...no comments on my accent. Or my hat. Or my moustache.’

‘Okay, I’ll just rip into your personality then, shall I?’

‘Please. As if you could find anything bad about my personality. I’m fan-fucking-tastic.’

The rest of the night went quickly.

Once you and Jack had veered away from talking about work, the conversation felt natural. He was easy to banter with and it made talking to him easy. The fact he was paying for drinks too was proving to be a slippery slope - for him and for you. The more you ordered, the more he tried to outdrink you. That was when the evening had taken a bit of a turn.

You hadn’t mean for it to happen, but your temper tended to slip up when you were drunk. It was easy to describe you as trigger happy at the best of times, let alone when you had a few shots in your system. And, you were by no means wankered beyond repair, or so drunk that you couldn’t walk, but you had proven yourself to be drunk beyond normal rationale.

It was all a blur, really.

You’d seen a man try to follow a girl into the toilets and in true sisterhood style, you’d flown after him in an attempt to save her. There had been punches thrown - in both your direction and his - and it had resulted in the two of you both being kicked out. Jack had followed suit, rushing out after you with your jacket and bag. A true Southern gentleman indeed.

‘It was his wife.’ Jack had been muttering the same words over and over. He was knelt in front of you, dabbing at your bloody nose with some cotton balls. ‘He was following her into the toilet because they were married-’

‘- how the hell was I supposed to know that?!’ You snapped, wincing in pain. You made a mental note not to raise your voice too much. ‘I’ve had things like that happen to me before. I just wanted to make sure she was safe.

‘You could have gotten me to check it out.’ He reasoned. ‘I might have had to have gone into the ladies’ toilets but you can be damn sure I wouldn’t have punched the guy.’

Jack’s hands were steady as he worked to clean up your nose. Somehow, you’d ended up in his living room -- he’d refused to let you go back to your own apartment in a bloody state. On the bright side, his place was a thousand times nicer than yours. And, given your jacuzzi bath tub and flat screen TV, that was truly saying something. His felt a little more homely, and a little more lived in. He had random knick-knacks lying around; there was magazines on the table and piles of shoes by the doors. You, meanwhile, had been living out of a suitcase.

Once he was done, Jack stood up and dropped onto the couch next to you. He stared at you for a moment, pondering what to say. You didn’t look too tired; your eyes were slightly hooded and hazy from the drinks, but the sock to your face had sobered you both up to the point where you might as well have only had one or two shots.

‘God, what must you think of me?’ You finally spoke, flopping back against the cushion behind you.

Jack frowned. ‘What on Earth do you mean?’

‘You saw me deck Tequila this morning and then attack a guy in the bar.’ You snorted. ‘I’m not a violent person. I promise.’

‘I don’t think you are.’ He replied. ‘I definitely think you could knock a man into the middle of next week looking both ways for Sunday but I think it’s admirable.’

You couldn’t help but cackle. ‘Admirable?!’

‘A lot of people run their mouths but very few would actually square up when things came down to it.’ Jack shrugged. ‘I know y’all believe in manners maketh man but I think fury maketh woman.’

‘Fury maketh woman.’ You repeated the words back to him, turning your head to face him.

A moment of silence fell over you after that. Not an awkward one, but rather a comfortable one. Things weren’t so hazy anymore - if anything, that guy punching you had been rather sobering. Meanwhile, Jack definitely looked like he’d been around the block a little bit; he’d long ditched the hat, leaving his dark hair in a ruffled mess. You were holding his gaze, looking intently at his eyes.

They were brown - but no shit, Sherlock. You knew that. What you hadn’t noticed was the way they creased when he laughed, or the fact they had little gold flecks in them. And they looked a little more caramel under the bright white lights of his living room. The man had a chandelier. An actual fucking chandelier. In 2020.

If you could just lean a little closer to get a better look.

Just a tiny bit.

Just edge a little bit closer, not too much and -

- Shit.

His lips caught yours halfway, and you suddenly realised that you hadn’t been trying to look at his eyes at all. No, absolutely not. Had you wanted to kiss him this whole time? Or had the urge just suddenly over come you this split second?

Either way, it didn’t matter because Jack Daniels was a fucking good kisser. He was giving and soft, but there was a hint of something deeper too. Desire? Lust? You didn’t really possess the brain capacity to figure it out, not when he was biting at your bottom lip and gently holding one hand against the back of your head. His large, calloused hands were clutching loosely at your, pulling you into him It was so good that you let out a moan in your head.

Except, it wasn’t in your head. It was very much out loud, and right into his mouth. Your immediate reaction was to consider pulling back, to apologise straight away and swear never to talk about it - but he liked it. You felt Jack smile against you. He placed his hands on your hips and gently manoeuvred you into his lap, being careful to avoid putting too much pressure on your sore nose.

It didn’t take an idiot to work out where this was going, and you were both pretty smart people. Smart enough to know that it was going to make things awkward in the morning, and then everyday after that. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that his kisses were more intoxicating than any spirit you could possibly have consumed. You didn’t know.

And frankly, you didn’t care.

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #kingsman imagines #kingsman x you #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy unwin imagine

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twstales · 4 years ago

Text

Ahem, yes. I am not very good with word plays. This tale has gotten me a little bit flustered. I’ve done the utmost I can. Hopefully, it suits your tastes~

Ahh, this was quite hard to write. Malleus ended up soft though, I tried to expand the character’s personality with what was given. I hope it doesn’t differ too far. Now excuse me as I hide under the desk and never come out ;;

—————

“Tonight I have another tale to share with you. One of a thousand tales that capture the imagination”

The VIP lounge was silent aside from the quiet clicking of Azul’s pen. You were sitting in one of the sofas, waiting for him to finish his work for the day. You’d visit mostro from time to time after school, Azul doesn’t really mind your presence so you often welcomed yourself inside his lounge. Hearing the sound of pen againsts the table you looked towards the male. It seems like he’s finally finished with whatever documents he was writing.

‘Oh his tie looks a little loose’ you smiled at the thought, that was when a smal idea hits you “Hey, Azul.” The later turned his attention towards you “does something seem to be a problem, (Y/n)?” You smiled and approached him, doing few small gestures to fix his bow tie. “It looked a little loose.” A small laugh left your lips. Azul let out a nervous cough “Thank you I suppose.” Your actions had caught him off guard. Furthermore the close gap between the two of you did not help.

“You know, that uniform always looks good on you.” You giggled and placed your hands on each of his shoulders, leaning in you whispered “But I think it’s even better if we replace that uniform, ...with me” you bit your bottom lip, trying to contain yourself from letting out a satisfied laugh. Azul has known you long enough to get used to your flirty nature. He might’ve always been able to one up your pick up lines, but you know how physical contact affects him. Poor man is probably having an inner mental breakdown right now, or so you thought.

You were caught by surprise when he placed a hand on your back, pressing your bodies closer. “And I think yours would look better on my floor, don’t you agree.” He chuckled, his usual mischievous tone present. You were stoned and he was more than satisfied at your reaction. “Page 36 of 1001 pick up lines, I saw you carrying that book the other day.” He finally pulled away. Oh how much you wanted to punch that smug look off his face.

“Ah, silence? Are you perhaps disappointed?” He was taunting you. The colour of your face at that moment could’ve matches Riddle’s hair both out of embarrassment and annoyance. Your inner voice was telling you to back down but your pride says otherwise. There’s no way you’d let him win you over. Although your steps were shaky, you managed to approach him once more. Your next moves were blurry. Somehow you were now pushed up against the wall, arms around his neck and lips meeting for the umpteenth time. His glasses, long forgotten so as the various clothing that littered the floor. His next words were barely above a whisper but it served as a reminder for you,

“Finish what you started”

Jamil sighed as he looked at the amount of empty pages in your book. You’d asked him to help you with your homework earlier today. Thus you are now sitting next to him in Scarabia’s lounge. However he wasn’t expecting your homework to be completely empty.

“(Y/n)..” had he expected too much from you? You laughed nervously in response “You know I usually do my tasks, it’s just that this time, it completely slipped my mind....” you trailed off, normally you would’ve tried to get it done by yourself but the deadline was less than 12 hours away. You needed to get this done and he just happened to be available.

Jamil sighed once again, he looked defeated. Seeing him made you feel a little more than guilty. You blurted out the first thing that came into your mind. “Hey, don’t look so upset. I might not do my homework but I can do you.” You smiled, eyes fluttering upon saying the words. It was your attempt at cheering him up.

“What?”

“What.”

He had gotten used to your flirty nature, you thought a pick up line could cheer him up. Apparently it seems like he wasn’t in the mood for that. “Jamil? I’m kh-“ your words were cut short. Suddenly, you were lying against the red carpet, Jamil’s hand on either side of your head pining you down. “Wanna try and say that again?” He asked, lips curving up into a smirk.

“Yeah... Let’s do homework.” A nervous laugh left your lips. “Why are you so eager to do your homework now that you’re supposed to be doing something else?” He didn’t buy your answer, if you wanted to tease him then you should be prepared to deal with the consequences. “S-something else?” You quivered under his gaze. His hand brushed your hair back, The proximity between the two of you were almost non-existent at that point. “you’re lucky we’re in the lounge” his whispered, though you heard him clear.

He sighed letting you go. Closing the few books on the table, he stacked them up neatly before standing up carrying them with him. “W-where are you going?” You were still struck by the incident just minutes before. “To my room,” He answered your question like it was obvious “you still need help with these don’t you?” He referred to the books in his hand though the small smirk on his lips tells you otherwise. “Huh? Oh yeah.” You quickly gathered yourself before following him. Whether there was any actual homework done that night, we’ll have to see.

Malleus was always amazed by your rather... straight forward nature. You always seem to have no problem throwing him jokes and brushing them aside right after. He often sees humans jest around with each other, he thought it was the human’s way of communication. Alas he was eager to study these ‘jokes’ of yours unknowing that they were actually risqué pick up lines. Asking lilia was just another one of his mistakes.

“I'd hide every chair in the world just so you'd have to sit on my face.”

He only repeated what Lilia had told him to say. “H-“ you blinked once, twice, making sure you had heard him right. You were speechless, unable to responses to his words. The dimly lit living room did little to hide your flustered expression. He didn’t know why you looked so embarrassed. “Child of man, are you alright?” Did he perhaps offend you? Did he do something wrong?

“You want me to sit on what now?” You asked again, half of you hoping you had misheard him. Did he actually know what that means? “I believe I told you I’d have you sit on my face” he said it with such a straight face it was painful to watch. “Does the joke not suit you? I see you use them often I thought I’d learn about them as well.” He added.

“D-do you even know what that means?” You can’t believe all this time he had been mistaking your dirty pick up lines as some form of human communication. Well- it is, but he really shouldn’t be going around saying things like that. “I suppose it does have a rather erogenous meaning but I was also told they were not to be taken literally?” He was now deep in thought. It was more than distressing to see him take these things so seriously.

“Well, I can’t say they’re completely untrue...” You trailed off, still averting his gaze. “how so?” He was now curious at your statement. You spent a good 5 minutes explaining to him about pick up lines, all the while still trying to hide your embarrassment. It’s quite ironic, considering how much you use it on him.

“.........” he seems to be deep in thought for the umpteenth time that night. You could only sit there in shame as flashbacks of every single flirty encounter your had with him ran through your mind. “So, all this time you actually meant your words?” He broke the silence. “No.., yes” you let out an awkward cough. Hoping the ground could just swallow you whole.

“I apologize” he placed a hand on yours “I’m not very good at reading people’s hearts. Perhaps, tell me if you’d like something next time.” A soft smile gracing his features though it didn’t last long and was soon replaced by a mischievous smirk

“Though if you insist on teasing me, I do not mind teaching you a lesson.”

#malleus draconia #jamil viper #azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland headcanons #malleus x reader #twst headcanons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland jamil #twst jamil #twst malleus #twst azul #azul x reader

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mldrgrl · 4 years ago

Text

Broken Things 4/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

John Byers steps out onto the porch of the mercantile as Mulder sets the brake in place on the carriage. “Twice in one day, Mulder, is anything the matter?” he asks.

“Nothing at all,” Mulder answers. “Is Susannah about?”

“She’s just inside.”

Mulder steps down from the carriage as John calls to his wife. Susannah appears as Mulder is assisting Katherine down from her seat. The first time Mulder met the Byers he wondered how they ever came to be married. John is small and meek, dark-haired, keeps a well-trimmed beard and is fastidious about his person and his store. Susannah is fair-haired and fair-skinned, taller than her husband and broader in the shoulders. She is boisterous and jovial and, Mulder knows, hungry for friendships.

“Please allow me to introduce my neighbor, Katherine Wilis,” Mulder says. “You may have heard that her husband met an unfortunate end just a few days ago.”

John looks at Mulder quizzically and Susannah practically leaps from the porch to take Katherine’s arm and embrace her. “So lovely to meet you,” she says. “I’m Susannah, and this is my husband John. We run the mercantile here and if there’s ever anything we can do for you, you just let us know.”

“Actually,” Mulder says. “Mrs. Willis is going to have to see to some affairs regarding her homestead and I thought, well, since Franklin is away at school, it may not be too much trouble for you if she could stay here for a night or two to sort things out.”

“Oh, yes!” Susannah says. “Yes, please come right in and we’ll get you settled.”

Unsurprisingly, Susannah whisks Katherine away. Mulder meets John’s eyes for a brief moment and then turns away to untie the valise from the hold under the seat.

“It seems you’ve taken responsibility for the Willis widow,” John says.

“I suppose you can say that,” Mulder answers. “I’ve asked her to marry me.”

“Marry you! And she’s taken you up on this lunatic proposal?”

“She said she’d like to think about it.”

“This is the most astonishingly foolish thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Maybe it’s foolish or I’m just soft. You were right about the forthcoming eviction. She’s got no claim on the homestead and you should have seen the place, John. The old sod house is barely standing. I think she’s putting on a brave front, but she has less than nothing. If you could have seen her face when I showed up there, I’m almost certain she thought I had come to collect her for debtor’s prison.”

“Why not just send her back to her people, if you want to help?”

“She says she has none.”

“You’re talking about a lifelong commitment here, Mulder. Do you really want to put yourself in that position? Or her?”

“I would escort her to Fort Worth myself if I thought she’d be safe or do well there on her own, but she’s in unfamiliar territory amongst strangers. Anyone could take advantage.”

“And that’s not what you’re doing?”

”Is that what it seems to you I’m doing?”

“I don’t know, but proposing to a woman you’ve only known for a handful of hours? Couldn’t you at least do a little courting first?”

“Actually, I proposed to her within ten minutes of knowing her.” Mulder takes the valise out of the hold and then puts a hand on John’s shoulder. “I appreciate that you’re looking out for me, and I know it seems rash, but I did think things through. You know I can’t hire her on as a cook or housemaid, which is what I’d do if I was back east. Bringing a young, single woman, widowed or not, onto a ranch with six bachelors? You know what that would look like, out here. Bringing a bride onto a ranch, now that’s a different story and no one would bat an eyelash.”

“I can tell you’re intent on looking out for her and I think it’s admirable, but to yoke yourself to her just because she’s run into trouble?.”

“There’s another reason too.”

“Oh?”

“I happen to like her. Now, I’m going to bring this bag in for her and then I’m going to head over to see Skinner before he closes for the day. Please, don’t mention to Katherine that I’ve gone on to the bank.”

John sniffs lightly and smooths down his shirtfront. “You know I’m not one to meddle in people’s affairs.”

Mulder laughs and claps John on the shoulder. It is well known that John Byers is the town gossip and is very rarely able to keep his opinions to himself, if their conversation just now is any indication. He heads into the store to find Katherine and discovers her in the back room with Susannah, who’s making what appears to be tea and cookies. He holds the valise up to her as a greeting.

“Ladies, I’ll be going now. Katherine, I’ll be by tomorrow morning to bring you over to Mr. Skinner.”

“I appreciate that, thank you.”

“Susannah, I’m going to trust you to outfit Katherine with whatever she might need and put it on the account.”

“Oh no,” Katherine protests. “I don’t need anything.”

“Sure you do. Boots, stockings, material, and I’m sure there are lady soaps or tinctures or baubles of some kind you could make use of.”

“That’s really unnecessary, I don’t-”

“Susannah, excuse us for just a moment.” Mulder gently cups Katherine’s elbow and leads her away out of earshot. He speaks low and close to her to make sure the conversation stays private. “If you accept my proposal, or you do not, either way there are things you’re going to need to get yourself started. You would do me an honor if you would allow me to ease that burden for you.”

“Then I should like to pay you back.”

“You can pay me back by making sure you put good use to the things you buy.”

“It won’t be anything frivolous, I promise that.”

“It could be as frivolous as you like, as long as you enjoy it.”

“I don’t understand why you’re helping me with so much and I can’t even do anything for you in return.”

“I’ve enjoyed your company thus far, and that’s more than enough.” He hands her the valise and finds that he has to restrain himself from leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Alright.”

He’s feeling pretty sure of himself until he leaves the mercantile and then he gets to thinking about what Byers had said and suddenly he’s less confident. He does want to marry her, he’s resolved on that, but what if what’s best for her is that he can offer her other options, not just one of marriage? She should have as many choices as she can, not just one.

He’s brooding a bit when he walks into the bank and waves his hat at Walter Skinner in greeting, trying not to scowl as he does. The bespectacled bank manager frowns a little, but he’s always frowning, in Mulder’s estimation.

“Mr. Mulder,” Skinner says, ushering him towards the side office and to his desk to sit. “What can I do for you today?”

“I’m sure you’re aware that my neighbor, Jack Willis, passed on rather abruptly a few days ago.”

“Yes, I am well aware of that.” Skinner pushes his spectacles up his nose and then clasps his hands together and sits tall in his chair across from Mulder.

“What kind of trouble is Mrs. Willis looking at with the land?”

“You know I can’t discuss the accounts of other landholders with you.”

“Well, I’ll be bringing Katherine Willis by tomorrow morning to discuss the terms of the lease with you, but I’d like to know exactly how much is owed before I transfer the money.”

“You’re going to settle her account? What exactly are your intentions?”

“Only to bring the account to good standing so that Mrs. Willis may receive a fair price for transferring ownership.”

“There hasn’t been a single payment made on that lease.”

“And if I were to take it over, would the option to purchase be readily available or do I need to wait the five years to put in for it?”

Skinner gets up from his desk and moves to a filing cabinet. He rifles through it for a few moments and then pulls out a folder and sits down again. He takes a blank piece of paper from his desk drawer, wets the tip of a graphite pencil with his tongue, and then sets to work on some figures.

“You’re looking at 320 acres, last valuation at two dollars an acre. The amount owed is currently 64 dollars, plus taxes and penalties. It’ll be roughly 85 dollars to take over the lease and 736 dollars to take the option.”

“Good. Transfer the 85 now to the account. Tomorrow, I’d like you to please inform Mrs. Willis that the lease was paid timely, and in full by her late husband. How long will it take to transfer the title as beneficiary?”

“A few weeks.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know what’s become of Jack Willis’ remains, would you?”

“I hear they’re keeping him in the icehouse until the undertaker comes through.”

“I guess that means Mr. Carter is handling the arrangements. You see him, you tell him he can send the bill on to me.”

“I’ve known you to do some strange things over the years, Mulder, but you’re going to extraordinary lengths to get a piece of land you could probably purchase at half the price at auction.”

“It’s not about the money. Right now I’m going to do everything I can to make sure Katherine Willis is taken care of.”

Skinner sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. “This woman have something over you?”

“Not at all. I only met her this morning.”

Skinner raises his brows and then shakes his head. He puts the paper with the figures he’s written into the folder from the filing cabinet and then clasps his hands together again and rests them on top of the folder.

“It’s your money,” Skinner says.

“Just be sure to tell Mrs. Willis that her husband kept the account in good standing tomorrow.” Mulder stands and puts his hat back on. “Pleasure doing business with you, Skinner.”

“Mr. Mulder.”

↭

Susannah is a chatty one, Katherine thinks. Through two cups of tea, she’s heard about how her new friend met her husband, how they moved from Philadelphia to Texas ten years ago, how her eldest son is studying journalism at a college in Missouri and dreams of operating his own newspaper, and how her youngest son intends to take on the family business one day. It’s a relief that Susannah likes to talk and doesn’t pry. Mulder was right when he said that Susannah would be delighted for a lady friend.

“What can you tell me about Mr. Mulder?” Katherine asks.

“I think he’s been out here about four or five years now,” Susannah says, resting her teacup on her saucer to answer. “He’s built up a nice little ranch. Our John Jr. had riding lessons from him a few years back when he got old enough to start making deliveries with the wagon.”

“He’s been very kind to me. I wonder if it’s not...put on somehow?”

“Mulder? No, what you see is what you get with Mulder.”

“He asked me to marry him.”

Susannah freezes with her teacup almost to her lips and her eyes grow wide. She lowers her cup once again and it rattles against the saucer. “Well, my goodness,” she says. “I didn’t even know the two of you were friendly.”

“We actually just met earlier today.”

“Gracious.” Susannah cocks her head as though considering the offer. “That does seem quite in character for Mulder, though.”

“How so?”

“I think he’s the kind of man who gives in to impulse.”

“Hm.” Katherine frowns just a little and ponders on that over her tea.

“Oh no, dear, not in a silly or reckless way. Well, let me see. I was thinking about a time we used to receive deliveries from a company in Fort Worth. The delivery man, Alex was his name, we’d only had him come in a handful of times, but there was one time that Mulder happened to be in the store and he told Alex something about his horse. I think it was that it was the wrong horse for the job, or something to that effect. Alex didn’t seem to acknowledge the advice one way or the other, but the next time he came through, we all heard this fuss outside and naturally, I assumed it was probably just a ruckus spilled out of the saloon, but Mulder had Alex off his wagon in the dirt, had a switch that he was busting up over his knee, and yelling at the man that if he ever saw him beating a horse again he would take the switch to him instead of busting it up the next time.”

Katherine feels herself shrinking just a little. She has had far too much of irrational, temperamental men in her life and she won’t take on another. “Is he often violent?” she asks.

“Not at all! I’m only trying to explain that Mulder is not a passive man. He wouldn’t stand by and let an animal be mistreated and most folks will. He took that horse from Alex, paid him money for it too, I believe, and then bought him a ticket back to Fort Worth on the stagecoach. And I think he sent one of the boys from out on the ranch to make sure the rest of his deliveries were made.”

“I met the men today before we came here. They seem awfully devoted to him.”

“Yes, I would say that’s true. From what I can tell he treats them very well. Whenever he happens to be in the store he seems to find something he thinks they need.”

“He’s obviously very generous.”

“Oh, don’t let him come in on a day when some of the local children might be here. They walk away with bags of penny candy. Speaking of generosity, he told me to make sure I outfit you and you know I just remembered we got in some new calico I think would suit you fine. Let’s go and have a look at it.”

“Susannah,” Katherine says, putting her hand lightly on Susannah’s arm to hold her off from getting up just yet. “With all that you know about Mr. Mulder, do you think I should accept his proposal?”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine marrying a man I just met, but I will tell you that I think Mulder is a decent man. I don’t know of any vices he has. Definitely doesn’t partake of alcohol, he’s never purchased tobacco, and I don’t even think he’s set foot in the saloon. And it’s unlikely to be for religious purposes as he’s never been to service. Will any of that make him a good husband? I can’t say.”

Katherine nods. She isn’t looking for a good husband, or any husband at all, really, she just doesn’t want another bad one.

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 4 #au #msr

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morethanalittleconfused · 4 years ago

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I accidentally wrote a 5k fanfic about incidents caused aboard the ghost by differences between species

I've been reading a lot of those old tumblr posts that are like “what if humans are actually just really, really hardy and alien species would be just completely blown away with the shit we put up with without a second thought” and it's got me thinking about the crew of the Ghost trying to get used to each other at first with three humans that are all just absolutely fucking insane, even more so than even your average human.

Rebels spoilers ahead, as well as a trigger warning for blood, vomit and general injuries

It starts with Hera and Kanan. It’s just the two of them, aboard the Ghost, and it takes some getting used to.

At first Hera is shocked by the way Kanan's body seemingly has no limits. He has never once complained about the temperature of the ghost, even when they were running low on power and Hera could feel her limbs start to get sluggish from the cold. Two weeks later he somehow managed to find his way back to the ghost after being in -2 degree Celsius weather for a half an hour with no coat on. When he walked back through the hatch with snow blowing in his loose hair and a red nose and said “it's cold as shit out there” after Hera had been panicking about losing him for the literal entire time, she had to practically scrape her jaw off of the floor. She would have been dead after a few minutes, and yet here he was, now steaming from a shower and shirtless, bitching about how the caf maker was broken.

As time went on, she learned his body did have some limits to the heat. At about 35 degrees he got irritable and short, but that was about when she started getting uncomfortably warm, too. But he would tolerate it. And more. He kept impressing her with the things he somehow managed to pull off, in conditions she would have thought would kill him. He could get knocked around far more than she thought he should be able to, and would haul himself back to the ship with a grin every time.

The way his body worked constantly surprised her. She noticed it first in how quickly he healed, and in how much he ate.

He could eat literally anything. Things she thought were poisonous for most species. He loved chocolate, and would easily eat ten times the amount that would send her to the hospital to get her stomach pumped. He could withstand a ridiculous amount of alcohol, and could drink unprocessed coffee with no problem by the cup. Caf didn't seem to really affect him because his body processed it so fast. And he ate so. Much. it was ridiculous. The good thing was it didn't really seem to matter what.

Hera didn't need much food, but it had to be good. It had to count. Too much filler and she would lose strength. Her body couldn't process a lot, and if what she got wasn't exactly what she needed, her health went downhill, quick.

Kanan was not the same. He could, and would, eat anything. He didn't have any noticeable preference for plants or meat, or the quality of the food. If he could get his hands on it, he would eat it. He would eat food out of the refrigerator she would have considered to be dangerous. He put appalling amounts of random, unrelated food in a pan, cooked it, and acted like that was an acceptable thing to do. Omelets? She hated the very idea but he seemed to think they were wonderful.

And yet, for all that, they had once been stranded for over a week with only enough rations for one, and Kanan had insisted that she take the vast majority of the ration bars. She pushed back, and he then presented her with the absolutely shocking fact that humans can survive for over a month with no food. She was absolutely flabbergasted, and he took advantage of her stunned silence to press another ration into her hand, smirk at her and say, “I can take it. Trust me.”

Another thing she noticed very quickly was how fast he healed.

He could be bleeding openly one minute, and the wound seemed to close itself the next. She knew human blood had clotting factors far beyond that of nearly any other being, but it was ridiculous how fast he sealed himself up. Further into their relationship she got to see this close up when she accidentally touched some of his congealed blood on the floor of the refresher after cleaning him up. She had had to turn away and take a few deep breaths at the slimy, gelatinous texture. He had gently huffed out a laugh.

“Kinda gross huh?”

“Yeah... it's… unique.”

“I've always been kind of fascinated by the way it congeals so quickly. Handy I guess.”

Out of sheer curiosity she had run the end of a pen through the small puddle and been horrified to see that it mostly stuck together.

“It just… does that? Inside you? And that doesn't cause problems?”

“It can. If it clots when it's not supposed to. But mostly it keeps me alive.”

And it did. And though she wouldn't say it to his face, his ability to pull through seemingly anything took just one more worry off her plate. His wounds would be almost completely closed in often under a week, where she would have been dealing with bandages and salves for a month. He almost never got infections, and could keep going with seemingly incapacitating injuries.

They had once narrowly escaped a fight with a gang of imps and made it back to the ghost with almost no problems. She had a sprained ankle, so he had supported her most of the way there, and they had patched up each other's scrapes. He had needed a bit of training so he didn't just slap a bandaid on what could have been a potentially life threatening injury for her, but he did alright. It was only later, when they were sitting in the cockpit, well into hyperspace, and he had coughed suddenly, when things went sideways. She turned to see blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth, and more on his hand when he pulled it away. They both looked at it for a moment, then Hera almost blacked out as a sudden wave of adrenaline washed over her.

“Kanan you're- are you- let me make the calc- are you dying?”

“What? Oh- no I had thought I just cracked a few of my ribs but it would appear I must have broken at least one of them.”

“BROKEN? Your bone? Like in half?”

“I- yeah?”

“Chopper we need to get to the nearest med center right now. Tell them were coming. I dont care if its a fucking imperial light cruiser”

“Wait no lets not be hasty-”

“HASTY? YOU BROKE YOUR BONES KANAN”

“Okay i know it looks bad but really i'm not going to keel over and die right now. Make sure it's a safe med center and cheap too. I can wait.”

“Kanan your bones are literally broken.”

“Yeah. It's happened before and it will happen again. I've broken my arm twice. I've broken one of the bones in my lower leg. A couple toes. At least one finger. And don't even get me started on my nose. It didn't always look like this.” At that he had huffed out a small laugh, but then winced and brought a hand to his lower chest. Almost as an afterthought, he reached down and pulled up the hem of his shirt. She had started to avert her eyes at the sliver of hip he showed, but as he pulled the shirt up higher and revealed more, she felt the breath taken out of her. His skin was mottled a whole host of awful colors, angry and puffy. He coughed that wet cough again and said, “Maybe I do need a med center after all”

She was incredibly relieved when they dropped out of hyperspace and into the welcoming arms of medicine. She was less happy when Kanan was returned to her, that night no less, with only bandages around his chest and a note to “take it easy for a while” she was appalled to say the least.

His ridiculously resilient body sometimes created just as many problems as it solved, though. He got into bar fights after downing enough alcohol to kill a bantha, and got the piss kicked out of him. He ran headfirst into danger with little consideration for life or limb. He was reckless, and incredibly hotheaded, and overall behaved like a clown. She had no idea how the Jedi accepted humans into their ranks, if Jedi he was. Restraint, my ass.

His recklessness applied to food as well. He didn't really seem to mind what he ate, content with the knowledge that if it didn’t work out, he could always regurgitate it back up. Twi’leks could not vomit, like many other species. It was yet another bizarre human trait. The ability to purge substances from your body without them having to pass through your entire digestive tract and cause more issues had always seemed like a neat trick to Hera. That is, of course, until she saw it in action.

She was roused one night by a strange noise coming from the refresher, and she had padded to the door, only to find it open. Blinking in the harsh light, she saw Kanan curled on the floor, wearing no shirt. His hair was loose and hanging around his face, and he was panting heavily. She only had time to say “Kanan, what-” before he coughed and vomited into the bowl.

Her immediate reaction ricocheted from “Oh my god he's dying” to “I’m actually going to die just having to witness this” to “Oh stars he is actually dying” so fast she could barely process it. She was immediately horrified but had no idea how to help him.

“Kanan are you- do you need a medic? How- chop- CHOPPER! How do I help you? Are you hurt?”

He had turned and peered up at her with puffy eyes and a runny nose. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He tried to talk but his voice came out too rough and he had to try again. Even then it was strangely thick.

“Hera? Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Am I okay Kanan? You're in here dying for stars sake and I have no idea how to help you and where the hell is chopper-”

“Hey. hey.” He turned away for a moment and took a long breath in through his nose. “Calm down for a sec. I feel like shit so you're going to have to talk slower. Are you hurt or something?”

“Hurt? No I'm not hurt i’m just- you- you're in here- I don’t even know-”

He closed his eyes and took another long breath in through his nose.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah i’m just… trying really hard not to throw up again.”

“Oh.”

He opened his eyes again and looked up at her again.

She shifted against the door frame. “But you're… okay? This isn't life threatening?”

He huffed out a soft laugh, then seemed to immediately regret it as he dropped his head between his knees for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and tipped his head back up.

“No. I'm good, I just ate something bad at that pub. And I also probably drank a bit too much as well. But I think it was definitely the squids fault.”

“Oh. So this is… normal?”

“More so than I would like. Yes.”

“Okay so…” she took a deep breath to calm her nerves now that it was apparent he wasn't in any imminent danger. “Do you need anything? How can I help you?”

“Some tea maybe. Some crackers. Anything ginger you have. It'll work itself out with time.”

She stood in the door, unsure of what to do, wanting to help him, and watched as he drew a quick breath in and closed his eyes again.

“Hera. Tea. Now”

“Right.”

As she dashed to the kitchen she heard the sounds of retching from behind her.

There were some strange things about humans that became interesting as their relationship developed beyond mere captain and crew. His hair, for example. At first she had thought it was appalling, the sheer volume of it. It was everywhere. But all it took was threading her hands through it a few times, and hearing the wonderful noises he made, before she quickly changed her opinion.

Related to his hair was the fact that humans seemed to enjoy a certain level of pain, which she could not understand. He would moan audibly when she tugged at his hair, which startled her the first time, in the best way. Once, when she was feeling particularly adventurous, she had dragged her sharp canines across the delicate skin of his throat, and had been surprised to find the taste of metal filling her mouth, sharp and bright. She was even more surprised at the way he had shuddered and come apart beneath her, just like that.

Then, later, when Zeb and Sabine joined the crew, there was yet another learning curve as Hera adjusted to another human as well as a Lasat, and Zeb adjusted to Kanan and Sabine at the same time.

Sabine was just as reckless. She was a fighter too, but she didn't have the force to help her out. Hera had more than a few small heart attacks in the early days of Sabine's presence before she fully appreciated that she could take almost as much of a beating as Kanan. Sabine had once walked over a half a mile back to the ship with a broken leg, and when Hera pressed her on just how she managed to do that, Sabine had gotten quickly tired of the argument, ending it with a, “I don't know what to tell you, Hera! I didn't have any other options! I had to do it, so I did.”

Hera was used to most of Kanan's strange human quirks, but Sabine presented a new and entirely alarming one, which Hera first came in contact with on a supply run. Sabine needed a monthly supply of medical supplies. Hera knew very little about menstruation, as that was a trait entirely unique to human females. Why their biology decided that it was necessary was completely beyond Hera, it seemed incredibly inefficient. Sabine made as little fuss about it as possible, but Hera had embarrassed everyone about three months in when Sabine asked hera to go get her data pad from her room. Hera had burst back into the common room, and only then was able to identify the smell Sabine was carrying with her that had been tugging at the edges of Hera’s mind all day. Blood. She turned on Sabine with a very distressed, “Sabine are you injured? Are you sick?”

To which Sabine had responded, with a distinct note of confusion, “No? Why?”

And Hera, without thinking, had said, “There's blood all over your bed? Did you hurt yourself?”

Sabine had gaped at her for a moment, then blushed ever so slightly. “I uh- I forgot to wash my sheets after... Sorry. I forgot about that before I told you to go into my room.”

Hera still had not connected the dots and was opening her mouth to further interrogate Sabine as to why her bedsheets were covered in blood when Kanan had jumped up and said, “Hera! Let's go for a walk, yes?” and pulled her gently out of the room, but not before she heard Zeb turn to Sabine and say, “So, why were you bleeding?”

Zeb apparently hadn't had much contact with the more alarming of the humans' quirks, as he had his own room, until Ezra showed up. Then Zeb had to learn for himself just how absolutely wild human biology was for himself. He arguably had a rougher go of it, because while he had the rest of the crew to help him out, he was literally sharing a room with a teenage human.

The first time Ezra got food poisoning was just about as rough for Zeb as it was for Kanan and Hera, except it happened in Zebs room. Ezra was mostly self-sufficient, but Zeb had come hollering down the hall. He had broken the “do not open my door without knocking” rule Hera kept firmly in place, but she couldn't even be mad at him. Hera was just glad Kanan had been in his own bed that night. She had woken to see Zeb standing in her door, his fur standing up like a spine down his back, one ear folded inside out, panting hard.

“Hera the kid- he’s- I don’t know what the fuck happened but he- I think he’s hurt- or- or something but I don’t know how to help him- it’s Ezra-”

At which point Kanan, who had been woken by Zebs racket, slid open his door wearing only his sleep pants. He took one moment to assess the situation, looked down the hall and said, “Oh, Ezra’s throwing up. Do you want me to take care of him, Hera?”

Hera sighed and got up from her bed.

“No, you get Zeb some tea or something. I've learned well enough how to hold hair back at this point.”

Zeb, still looking entirely horrified by the situation, allowed himself to be led into the galley by Kanan. Sabine poked her head out of her door, decided this crisis did not involve her, and went back to sleep.

The same situation had happened the first time Ezra had gotten a bloody nose in the middle of the night. It was the kind Hera had witnessed with Kanan, and knew firsthand how horrifying it was if one didn't know humans noses just Did That sometimes. It was a middle of the night kind of bloody nose, where Ezra had presumably woken up with blood all over his face and in his mouth and in his hair and on his sheets, and had tried to catch the blood in his hands, which was all well and good until he somehow had to get down from the top bunk and open two doors to get to the refresher. That left Zeb to wake up to a room smelling of blood, with blood on the floor, on the door panel, and a trail leading to the refresher where he found Ezra leaning over the sink which was also, conveniently, covered in blood. All it had taken was for Ezra to turn his face toward the creature standing in the door and say “Zeb?” before Zeb was hurtling down the hall in a panic, calling for Kanan to come help him because the kid was dying.

Sabine, who had been up working on a project, was the first to respond to this particular “The human is dying!” call. She took one look at Ezra, standing in his pajamas with blood on his hands and said, “That sucks,” and turned back to her room.

Hera, who was making her way down the hall to check on if Ezra really was dying this time, had the pleasure of seeing Sabine turn back and say, “If you want a tampon to stop up the bleeding, they're in the bottom left drawer.” This worked surprisingly well at stopping Ezras bloody nose, because he was blushing so hard there was no blood left for his nose. Hera turned back to comfort Zeb, telling him she had reacted the exact same way the first time Kanan had woken up with a bloody nose. She saw him come out of his panic in time to realize she had effectively confessed to sleeping with Kanan, but wisely decided not to say anything. Nothing he didn't already know.

The humans were absolutely bizarre to spend time around. They ended up installing a wall in the galley that had live plants in it, not because they needed fresh plants to eat, but because their brain chemicals got thrown off if they weren't around plants for too long.

They had empathy for everything. Hera had once witnessed Ezra cry in a market when they passed a fruit stand with a deformed Meiloorun. When Hera asked why he was crying, he had looked up at her with these huge eyes, sniffed, and said, “I just feel so bad for it! No one will buy it!” They had, of course, bought it. Kanan tried not to get attached to anything, but he apologized for bumping into inanimate objects, and Sabine got visibly sad when they had to throw out a good piece of gear because it was broken or old.

They all three loved swimming. They were awful at it, just barely flopping around on the surface, but any time they were near even relatively safe water, they were in it, having the time of their lives. Kanan had once explained to Hera that humans have an extra fun little bit of evolution called the mammalian dive reflex, which slows their heart rate and lowers their blood pressure when they are in water, making it calming and enjoyable. Hera was skeptical until she watched Ezra calmly floating down a river on his back and wished she had that, instead of feeling nothing but panic anytime she had to float in water.

They were mimics. They could replicate a stunning array of sounds, from animals to tech. Ezra's favorite way of annoying her was to make the noises her ship made when something went wrong, just to see how much she would panic before she realized it was him. They would sing along to anything, even if it was just instruments, and Hera would never admit it, but she loved Kanan's voice.

They could sleep anywhere. One of her favorite memories was walking around Chopper Base after a particularly exhausting mission and finding the three of them, Kanan in the middle, with one kid leaning on either shoulder, asleep, leaning against a crate. They had looked so peaceful, and yet she was again surprised at them. It was far too cold for her to even consider sleeping, there were fighters landing only a few hundred meters away, people running all over, and they were snoozing with smiles on their faces, just glad to be home.

And humans would pack bond with literally anything. She had thought Kanan was bad until she met Ezra. It was ridiculous. Her father had said that she was improper for developing a fondness for a droid, but the kid formed a relationship with everything that moved. It got them out of a few tight spots, sure, but she would never get used to having to sit still as some enormous predator loomed in their faces. The sight of Ezra staring down a cat the size of the ghost on some jungle planet, the cat's fangs mere inches from his face as it huffed at him, was something she would never forget.

They were wild and hard headed and strong and made her life so much more interesting.

Early on, Kanan’s strange human ability to adapt to seemingly anything had been a momentary point of contention between the two of them, and was still something she struggled with. It took time for her to be okay with the fact that humans and Twi’leks were just built differently. But it frustrated Hera how weak she felt compared to him. It infuriated her the way he could just walk off something that would have killed her. She had always striven to be adaptable and up for anything. She was strong, and she knew it. But she felt her inadequacies sharply next to Kanan. Early in their partnership they had been in the galley repairing themselves from yet another fight, when Hera had turned to see Kanan casually sewing his own skin up with a needle. The way he could just puncture his own skin like that, with nothing more than a wince and a hiss of breath, had made her see red for a moment and she had to excuse herself to the cockpit to take a breath. They had talked about it, and he had helped her to realize that she was, of course, strong. Humans were adapted differently, so it was entirely unfair for her to be comparing them. But they could compare emotionally, and she was one of the strongest people he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. The two of them were forged in war, and had been through incredible things. She had fought prejudice and overcome so many obstacles to get to where she was, the best pilot in the resistance, without question. As he had said the last part, she heard him smirk a bit, and looked over at him, bathed in the blue light of hyperspace, to find him with a little crooked grin on his face and his hair falling down around his ears. She had felt her guarded heart open a little bit more at that, and had to turn and gaze back out at the stars before her heart opened completely to this rogue of a man.

Later, pressed against his chest in a supply closet, hiding from some stormtroopers, she would marvel at just how fast humans' hearts beat. She knew they were supposed to beat about two times faster than a twi’lek, but his seemed like it was fit to fly out of his ribcage. She found herself thinking, “Is it supposed to be doing that? Is this why he's such a hot headed idiot?” Later she would discover it did not always beat that incredibly fast, usually just a bit faster than hers. It made him ridiculously warm, and also may have contributed to why he was so quick to anything. Not rushed. Not hasty. Just quick. Quick to anger. Quick to smile. Quick to fight. Quick to laugh. Quick to love.

Maybe that was why it was such a shock when he finally reached his limit. She had gotten used to him pulling through impossible situations. She had forgotten that they had limits, just like her.

And then, years later, a glimmer of hope. Ahsoka and Sabine, travelling the galaxy over, searching for Ezra. While Kanan was gone forever, she still had a chance to get one of her boys back.

And of course, there was always Jacen. Her beautiful little boy, who was soft and sweet and yet surprisingly strong, just like his father. And Hera was comforted to know that wherever this wild galaxy would take him, he had Kanan Jarrus’ blood coursing through his veins to keep him safe.

#kanan jarrus #kanan x hera #caleb dume #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #hera syndulla #sabine wren #garazeb orrelios #star wars #i accidentally wrote a fanfic #enjoy #tw #blood #angst #blood tw #rebels spoilers #rebels fanfic #fanfic #kanan x hera fanfic

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

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The Tower: Family - 17

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2137

Warnings: Pregnancy, mental health issues

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family. When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 17: Therapy

“So, tell me. How’re things?”

“Good. Really good.” That was the truth of it. I sat on the soft, plush couch in Jax’s office, starting my therapy session and I felt really good. I was now sixteen weeks pregnant and Natasha and Wanda were now 24 weeks. I had a noticeable baby bump and we’d be finding out the sex soon. I was in that sweet spot where I wasn’t too heavy to do things and I was past the morning sickness so I felt full of energy and ready to take on the world. On top of that, we were feeling the other babies kick now. The twins loved to put their hands on Natasha or Wanda’s stomach and talk to their sisters until they felt them kick. They’d squeal and tell everyone how much their sisters loved them in excited jabbering. I loved touching them too. It was nice, when the day had come to a close, to relax, cuddled up on the couch with my hands on Natasha or Wanda, just feeling the babies kick. The kids were enjoying school. We dropped them off and picked them up in pairs. If Natasha was one of the pair we’d walk. If not, we’d have Happy drive us and wait in the car so we could avoid the paparazzi. They’d made friends and they came home jabbering about all the things they’d done. We organized play dates for them. On top of that, everyone had just taken on administrative duties unless there was something really big and they needed a heavy hitter like Thor or Hulk (which was so rare these days), I was almost stress-free and enjoying myself. So I was good. I was as good as I’d been in my whole life. This felt like the way things were supposed to be.

“You feel prepared for the babies’ arrival?” Jax asked.

“Well, not yet,” I admitted. “We have the nurseries set up. We probably still need to go shopping for baby clothes and while we still have the bassinets from the twins, we’ll probably want to get another two, because even with the nursery, we’ll want them sleeping in with us.”

“Won’t that make it hard on your sex life?” Jax asked.

“I think no matter what, four infants are going to make it hard on our sex lives,” I laughed. “But we do have two other main bedrooms we use if we need time away from the larger group, for sex or sleep or whatever. I think we’ll be okay. We did it with two, I know four is going to be more than twice as much work, but there are a lot of us.”

“That is true,” Jax said. “Well, I’m sure you’ll work it out. So just clothes shopping?”

“Well, diapers and bottles. Wipes, creams. All that kind of stuff,” I said. “But there’s plenty of time and a lot of it can just be added to the normal shopping list. I guess the main thing we still haven’t started working on is hiring a nanny.”

“Why do you think that is?” Jax asked. “It would be a big process. I would have thought you’d all have Wanda out stalking the potential candidates by now.”

I shifted where I sat as I considered the question. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I mean I know we need the help. Even with all of us, six kids under five are going to be a lot to deal with. But I don’t normally have anything to do with the hiring process.”

“These are your kids though, don’t you think you should be?” Jax asked.

He was right. I should be involved. I had been with the school choice and this was much more important than that. “Yeah, I guess so. I’ll bring it up with Steve and Tony.”

“Are you worried about it?” He asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. They’re going to be trusted with a lot and it’s not like I haven’t had people break that trust in the past.”

“It is a big thing,” Jax said. “They’ll have access to a lot of your life and your family.”

“We have Wanda though,” I reasoned. “And Nat and Clint are good at reading people.”

Jax smiled. “I’m really happy to see you taking this view, El,” he said. “When I met you I think this would have sent you into a state of panic.”

“I mean, you did meet me just coming off my therapist trying to kill a bunch of my loved ones,” I half-joked.

He chuckled. “Yes. That is true. But I would say you’ve come along way since then. Do you think that too?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I think I feel at peace in the world. Like I’ve found my place.”

“What do you think has caused that?” Jax asked.

“It started when the twins were born,” I say. “I don’t think it was because they were born exactly. I don’t see them as some magical fix for my mental health. But I think everyone decided they needed to try harder to get healthy for them. But I think the major thing was the bonding on Asgard and Thor coming here and then clearing things up with my parents. I know I still have work to do, but I feel more able to accept the love these guys have. Plus the power I have has made it so I don’t really worry about them anymore. I know where everyone is and if they’re okay. It has let me relax and I needed that.”

“What do you think you still need to work on then if you’re feeling so much better?” Jax asked, getting out a notebook.

“Well, I guess there’s always been the worry about losing my own identity in all of theirs,” I say. “And...I don’t know… I don’t think it’s grounded in logic, but I worry that with so many kids, people will start worrying about genetics more. I mean… Tony asked to have this one with me, what if he stops being a parent to the others because he has this one?”

“Let’s start with the identity thing,” Jax said. “What makes you feel that way?”

“Well, aside from work, I feel like everything I do is them or the kids. And really the work is related to them too.”

“Maybe you need to start making more time just for you. Spend some time with friends. Get your nails done. Read for fun. Maybe take up a new hobby. What do you think you’re not doing that you used to do?” Jax said.

“I guess I spent more time with friends. And I read a lot,” I said.

“Okay, so put some time aside with you once a week. That’s what I want you to do for your homework. You’re going to tell me about the hour you spent just on you,” Jax said, taking notes.

“Alright. I can do that,” I agreed. “Maybe I’ll call Clarke up.”

“She’d like that,” Jax said. “As for the other issue, do you really think they’ll be like that? Has there been evidence of it outside Tony asking you?”

“Um… yes and no. I mean, they’re all very into all the pregnancies and the twins are still the center of everyone’s universe. But I just… notice when Bucky is with Nat and Sam with Wanda and Tony with me now. And I don’t know if I’m just picking up on it because I worry it’s because of that, or if there’s no difference to how it always has been.”

“Well, I guess you have two options. The first is you can track their behavior and if the amount seems out of the ordinary you address it,” Jax said. “Or you can reflect and consider if this is coming out of your own experience. If they are attentive to the twins and have been attentive to everyone else too, it might be you expect love to be withheld because you have experience with that in your childhood, don’t you?”

I frowned and nodded. I had always been the family scapegoat for my father’s temper. It had definitely felt like they had favorites and I was never one of them. It made sense that I would think that parents just had favorites and it would be easy to see in a family where genetics wasn’t what made many of them parents.

“You’ve had an issue with that, haven’t you?” Jax said. “Believing they had favorites and that you weren’t anyone’s?”

That felt like a punch to the gut. I had always felt that I wasn’t special when everyone else was. I was under the belief that I was the spare but if it came down to it if they all had to pair off, I wouldn’t have a pair. It wasn’t until Asgard when Tony said I was his person that I realized that I had been picked first. “Yeah, that’s definitely true. But Bucky said they all had favorites.”

“Do you think that Bucky can speak for all of them?” Jax asked.

“I guess not, and I guess he was in a fragile place when he said it, but it’s also definitely true for some of them,” I say.

“And for the ones you’re not sure it’s true for,” Jax said. “Do they make you feel less loved?”

I shook my head. “No, and I feel loved by the ones it is true for too.”

“Do they show favorites out of the twins?” He asked.

“No, not at all. They all adore both of them,” I said.

“You know you're worthy of the love those children get right?” Jax said.

Tears immediately pricked my eyes and I grabbed a tissue and frantically wiped them as I shook my head.

“That old bone again,” Jax said. “I’m gonna convince you, El. One of these days.”

I nodded and wiped the escapee tears from my cheeks. “I know. I know.”

“And on that topic,” Jax said. “I have some information. It’s up to you what you do with it.”

I looked at him and furrowed my brow, not at all sure where the hell this was going. “What is it?”

“Your mother left your father. She’s been living in the city. As far as we know she hasn’t had any contact with him other than through the lawyers. She filed for divorce and she’s been seeing one of the therapists that work under me. This was all passed on to me by that therapist at your mother’s request. She’s hoping you’ll agree to see her.”

“Oh,” I said softly. I didn’t know what to think. This had all hit me like a truck. Those were the conditions I set but I had not at all expected her to meet any of them. My immediate thought was it was some kind of elaborate trick because my mother had never chosen me over anyone before - least of all my father. “What do you think I should do?”

“I can’t tell you that, Elise,” Jax said. “This is your decision.”

“But you have an opinion,” I said.

Jax let out a breath. “I was the one that told you it was okay to cut them out of your life in the first place. I was very proud of you when you did that. I stand by the decision you made. If you don’t want to let her back in, even if her intentions are pure, that decision is healthy and a good one,” he said. “However, you set the conditions for her to re-enter your life and she has been following them. That is big. Letting her back in might be good for you. But only if she’s really committed to fixing things. If you let her in, you need to do so while protecting yourself. If her behavior is still toxic you can’t keep her around. I know you want your mom to love you the way you love your children. That’s totally normal. But if she can’t do that - if she can’t make up for what she did - if she resents you for that - it would be better for you both to just end it.”

“Right,” I said with a nod. “I get it. I guess I better think about it.”

“Talk to the others. Clarke too. But when you make your decision, make sure it’s your decision,” Jax said.

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“Alright. I think that’s time, El,” he said. “Remember your homework.”

“At least one special thing just for me,” I said, getting up.

“I’ll see you next week, if not before,” he said.

“Yeah, probably before,” I said. “See you.”

I headed out of the office, the dark clouds that were my parents over my head again.

// NEXT

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thatfeanorian · 4 years ago

Note

c j r russingon? (the making of gil-galad)

heehee, this might be my favorite thing I've ever had the pleasure of writing, thank you for the prompt.

cum inflation & transpreg & sex polled with russingon!

The wine had been a wedding gift from Celegorm, a little something he had been working on, he said, for your wedding night. There had been an odd glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he had said it and Maedhros had had enough sense to lock away that bottle in the deepest part of their wine cellar, hoping it would never see the light again.

But of course it had. Nearly two years later, Fingon pulled the dusty bottle from it’s shelf and frowned down at the blank label, wondering where on earth they had gotten it. He ascended the stairs, bottle in hand, and wandered into the kitchen, his brow still furrowed in thought as he attempted to recall ever receiving a bottle directly from the maker that had let to be labeled. Perhaps it was from Caranthir’s occasional foray into oenology where he had spent lavish amounts building up a series of vineyards only to sell them a decade later at twice the value when he lost interest. Yes, that was probably it, Fingon decided, indeed he was not sure if Caranthir had ever labeled any of his bottles and they had certainly had a few in the past gifted to them as taste testers. Not, perhaps, the fanciest bottle, but more than nice enough for an afternoon lunch. He uncorked the bottle, pouring both he and Maedhros a generous amount, and went to join his husband on the terrace.

If Fingon had been paying more attention while they ate he would have noticed the wine, though fruity and delicious had a rather sour under current of something else, but as it was, he was far too wrapped up in both his meal and watching Maedhros’s hair sparkling in Laurelin’s light as well as the growing flush creeping up Maedhros’s pale cheeks. Finishing the last sip of wine, Fingon stood, smiling at Maedhros and offering his hand to his husband. His skin felt oddly hot and itchy, the smooth delicate fabric of his robe chaffing against his skin and he pulled at his suddenly too tight collar, as Maedhros shifted awkwardly in his seat, his face by new quite flushed as he stood stiffly, oddly hunched over and panting slightly. Fingon frowned, it must be truly hot out for the heat to affect Maedhros so, his husband was usually quite immune to most temperatures, at least far more so than Fingon who sweated profusely when it was too hot and shivered beneath piles of blankets when it was too cold.

“Russo, it’s quite hot,” Fingon murmured, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead followed by an intoxicating shiver of cold. Maedhros’s hand on his arm seemed to burn and Fingon suddenly found himself craving more, less clothes more contact, anything that could get Maedhros to touch him more. Maedhros nodded, looking oddly panicked and squeaked out,

“I think—“ He cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing at Fingon with something resembling hunger out of the corner of his eye, stumbling more than walking.

“I think maybe I need—“ He tripped over an uneven stone on the walkway, falling flush against Fingon’s chest and Fingon felt heat roar to life in his chest, nearly blinding him with it’s intensity and the next moment Maedhros’s lips crashed into his as he rutted helplessly against Fingon’s thigh as Fingon tripped backwards and they landed with a thump in the soft grass, Maedhros biting and sucking at Fingon’s lips as if his life depended on it.

Fingon had never gotten so hard so fast in his entire life as he bucked up against Maedhros’s stomach, whining as he sucked his husband’s tongue into his mouth, the lack of breath making him dizzy with need. Maedhros pulled back, his eyes dark with arousal and stammered,

“F-finno— need— hurts— you—“ Fingon forced a shaking breath out of his lungs and then reached up with trembling uncoordinated fingers to pull weakly at Maedhros’s clothes a whine escaping his lips,

“Off.” He said as commandingly as he could and Maedhros tore at his clothes, several buttons popping off and flying into the grass as he attempted to remove his garments as quickly as possible. Fingon fumbled ineffectually with his robe for a moment before giving up and simply hiking it up to his chest and tugging his trousers down as his cock sprang up eagerly, drawing Maedhros’s hungry eyes.

“Finno.” He breathed, the large tent in his own breeches quite noticeable before diving down and swallowing around Fingon’s cock as Fingon writhed beneath him, crying out and flinging a hand over his eyes as he felt himself cum. He had Maedhros had performed nearly this exact same action what felt like a million times but never before had it felt quite so intense as this. He felt as if his very mind was coming undone, leaving only an unquenchable lust and the need for Maedhros to fill him. Indeed, his cock had barely flagged at all when Maedhros pulled off at him and the tingling pressure in his balls was, if anything, even more intense than it had been before.

“Russo— p-please, need you inside me, need you to fill me, need you now.” Maedhros looked quite dizzy but nodded, ripping at his trousers and pushing them down to his ankles, not even bothering to remove them before tugging Fingon’s off from around his ankles and lifting him, pressing two fingers inside of him as Fingon felt his seed painting his stomach again. Maedhros pumped his fingers in and out of Fingon, scissoring as quickly as he could, his cock flush against his stomach and leaking precum. Adding a third finger and then a fourth, Maedhros leaned up to capture Fingon’s lips in an all consuming kiss again before finally pulling his fingers out and, breathing heavily, lining himself up before pushing into Fingon so quickly that he didn’t even register the burn until Maedhros’s hips were pressed against his ass.

Fingon didn’t bother counting the number of times Maedhros filled him before they finally began to tire, the whole affair passed in a haze of utter lust and pleasure as Laurelin’s light slowly faded and the mingling began. By the time they both lay panting in the grass, Maedhros’s cock finally softened but not having bothered to pull out of Fingon quite yet, Telperion’s silver light had fully taken over the Skys and Fingon was sure he would never move again. Maedhros reached over, massaging the bulge of Fingon’s lower stomach mumbling exhaustedly,

“Mmmh, you’re full.” Fingon laughed softly, feeling utterly filthy and the most sated that he had ever been in his entire life as he whispered giddily,

“I’m going to be leaking for days, Russo, days!” Maedhros’s cock gave a half-hearted twitch inside Fingon at that and Fingon wiggled back against him, half hoping that they would manage another round but knowing in his heart that if they did neither of them would ever move again. Maedhros shifted behind him, finally pulling out of him and Fingon mewled helplessly, face screwed up in disappointment.

“Don’t worry, Finno, I’ve got something for you,” Maedhros slurred out, making his weaving way very slowly back into the house as Fingon lay still on the grass, Maedhros’s cum slowly leaking out of him. It felt like forever before his husband returned, carrying something in his hand, and before Fingon could even register what it was, a thick cool metal plug was sliding home inside of him, trapping all of Maedhros’s seed inside him. Fingon hummed happily, reaching his arms up to Maedhros who carefully helped him to his feet and Fingon giggled sleepily, feeling the cum sloshing inside him and ghosting his fingers over his distended stomach.

“Feels nice, feels like you’re still inside me.” Maedhros grinned, wrapping his arm around Fingon’s shoulders so that they could support each other as they made their way into the house.

It was not until many hours later that Fingon suddenly jolted upright, a hand on his still swollen belly and stared wildly at Maedhros,

“Russo, there’s something in there!” Maedhros opened one eye from his vantage point, sprawled over the couch, chuckling,

“Of course there is, Finno, or at least I would hope so with the number of times I filled you,” And Fingon shook his head wildly tears of joy coming to his eyes,

“No! There’s— there’s a fëa, I can feel it!” Maedhros’s eyes widened and he leapt off the couch, hurrying across the room and placing a hand on Fingon’s stomach as a look of awe crossed his face,

“But— but how? I thought when you transitioned Estë took that away?” Fingon shrugged, reaching up and pulling Maedhros down next to him, sniffing happily before he froze, a memory suddenly coming to the forefront of his mind.

“Tyelko.” He hissed, and Maedhros looked over at him, utterly confused,

“What about him?” He asked and Fingon shook his head,

“It was that stupid bottle of wine he gave to us for our wedding gift,” He explained, “The one that he hinted had ‘special properties?’ That was what we just drank, that bastard.” Maedhros’s mouth fell open and he cursed,

“I knew I should have thrown that away, that bastard.” Fingon shook his head, curling into Maedhros’s side and grinning,

“We are absolutely never throwing that away. Recork it and put it back in the basement, we’ll need it later.”

#fingon #maedhros #celegorm #my writing

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the-lady-writes-what · 4 years ago

Text

Gilded Cage, Part One

Summary:

Keigo Takami, AKA Hawks, has turned villain and you don't know why. After a run-in with the League of Villains, you give chase after the former hero. When you end up taking a bullet to the knee, you're surprised that Keigo not only left you alive, but has taken you to his secret lair. He's built a special cage for you. He says it's to keep the League from coming after you, but you can't help but wonder if it's true or if he just wants you for himself.

Content: Kidnapping Sorry. No smut this time, but it'll be in the next one. Stay tuned

Villain!Hawks x Hero!Reader

(You're a pro-hero whose quirk is basically bending metal. Think Toph Beifong from Avatar: The Last Airbender)

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

This part does not contain smut (See above mentioned note). For smut, please follow the links for Parts 2 and 3

---080---

It was hard to walk down the halls of Endeavor’s agency these days. The news of Keigo Takami’s, also known as Hawks, betrayal hit Japan’s hero world like a tsunami. It turned into a question of who the next hero will be to go against their moral code and become a villain. Your workload had increased in the drama and paranoia that followed after Keigo’s sudden villainous change. Endeavor worked you down to the bone, but that was because he must have seen you as useful. Your hero name? Iron Maiden on account of your ability to bend metal, such as iron, steel, and copper. Netting bad guys was a whole lot easier when you could wrap them in a fence or trap them with a lamppost.

You finished the afternoon’s paperwork before heading to the breakroom for some lukewarm coffee. You half-expected Keigo to be sitting on the counter where you used to find him. He used to be a fan of Endeavor’s, so he frequented the agency whenever he felt like it. Of all the time you got to see him, it became evident that he wasn’t there to goof around Endeavor’s office. You should have known better than to encourage his casual flirting, but you couldn’t help yourself. Keigo was the first guy who turned your way after a dry spell in the romance department. It had been months since you last had a date, and even if Keigo was joking, it was nice to have a conversation with someone that didn’t involve hero work.

If only you knew back then that his over-confident smile belied an insidious plan to turn to the other side.

Keigo didn’t hurt people. Much. It wasn’t a great comfort to know that he at least didn’t go around murdering people as soon as he became a villain. That didn’t change the fact that he had become one of them. He robbed banks, caused collateral damage to the cityscape, and set the hero society into panic mode. Nobody knew who would switch sides. Heroes and civilians were starting to look at each other with suspicious eyes ever since.

You fixed yourself a cup of coffee when the cellphone on your hip went off. You immediately stopped what you were doing to pick it up. Shocked, you found your boss’s name and number on the screen. You didn’t hesitate to hit ‘receive.’

Endeavor’s voice came loud and clear, even over the sounds of fighting.

“We need you over by Central Park. Takami’s new crew showed up, and we need your quirk to help round them up!”

“On my way, sir.”

Central Park was at least ten miles from your location. Even if you speed, you won’t make it there on time by car. Not this close to rush hour. Of course, you had other methods of getting to where you needed to go. You pried open the nearest window and lept threw it. Part of your hero costume involved strips of steel wire you could sling around with like that American comic book character. Sailing over the city and swinging in between buildings was much faster than any car. You arrived at the scene with the villains terrorizing civilians trying to enjoy their day at the park. You spotted three of them charging at you as soon as you hit the ground. They were nothing but mooks. Clustered together, it was quick work wrapping them in a bundle of wire. You spotted others and repeated the process. Keigo was nowhere in sight. You heard the sound of flames engulfing the trees. Pillars of red and blue flames shot up in the distance. You found heroes to take care of the villains you’d already captured before heading towards what should have been the epicenter of the fighting. Endeavor was busy with Dabi, and there seemed to be no other villains in sight. Still no sign of Keigo anywhere.

“Endeavor!”

You dodged a blue fireball just in time. You hoped that Endeavor would order you to go elsewhere. Five more minutes, and you’d be cooking in your costume.

“Takami headed west. I leave it to you to apprehend him!” Endeavor was so focused on his opponent that he didn’t turn towards you when he gave the order.

You had to dodge more flames, both Dabi’s and Endeavor’s, to head towards Keigo’s last known whereabouts. Away from the smoke and flames, you found a trail of red feathers. There was a moment where you stopped to wonder if Keigo had been injured and left behind some feathers by mistake or if he was deliberately mocking you. However, you didn’t have a moment to linger on that. You followed the trail of feathers regardless if it was a plot.

Keigo made it easy for you to follow. That should have been your first red flag. You were so focused on getting him in handcuffs that the apparent beeline to him was so fucking clear as day. You picked up the feathers as you went. You had a fistful in each hand by the time you reached the end of the park. Your trail went ice cold.

That is until you spotted the shadow of bird wings graze above you. Your head whipped to the sky. Hawks swooped down, nearly knocking you down to the ground. His wings grazed you. He perched himself on a branch far above you.

His appearance was vastly different from the last time you saw him. He wore an all-black suit with a red and gold tie. Pewter rings were on his fingers. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, but his smile was the most unnerving thing about him. You lashed outwards with your arms, the metal from your gauntlets catching him by the ankles.

“Keigo Takami, you’re under arrest. You have the right to—”

Keigo didn’t let the mild impairment weigh him down. His wings couldn’t be easily held down by you. He flew straight towards you. His height never hid the fact that he was powerful. He plowed you into the ground. The wires unwhirled around his feet and let him soar above you.

“Get back down here, bird brain!” You lashed out your wires again in hopes of pulling him back down to earth.

Each time Keigo moves just a little bit out of reach. You already spent so much on capturing those D-level cronies that you didn’t stop to think of conserving your limited amount of iron wire. Keigo’s wings took him high above to where your weapon couldn’t reach him. He smirked down at you before taking off.

You ran after him, going so far as to hopping over the chain-link fence and following on foot. Your wires came in handy twice today as you soared from lamppost to lamppost, tracking Keigo’s aerial movements. Citizens yelled words of encouragement as you chased after Japan’s new most wanted criminal. The air stung your cheeks, and you could feel your eyes watering as you sped faster between rooftops.

Keigo made the mistake of flying to close to the building whose roof you just scaled. There was a split-second decision. You could stop and let him get away, or you could take the chance. You lunged for him, limbs scrambling through the air to find purchase. Your hands grabbed his suit jacket. Hauling yourself upon his back, you managed to secure your legs around him and put his neck in a headlock.

“As I said before, you’re under arrest!” You screamed as the wind busted your eardrums.

Keigo merely looked over his shoulder at you. His smile was cheeky as ever.

“Really, Princess? The way I see it…you’re the one at my mercy. Unless you got a plan to get us both safely on the ground without bashing our brains on the concrete.”

You growled as Keigo caught you. You didn’t think this far ahead.

You screamed as Keigo flew up towards the sun at lightning speed. Light burning your eyes, you had no choice but to shield them. Keigo used your distraction as the opportunity to shift your weight off his back. All too late, you felt your legs and arms loosen around him. Soon you were plummeting back to the ground. With any luck, your wires would find purchase on something and save you from falling to your death at the last minute. At the rate you were falling, good luck.

You were ten feet from meeting a concrete rooftop when Keigo reappeared. He wrapped you in his arms almost in a possessive manner.

“You’re way too pretty to let splatter. Come on. I’ve got a much better place to finish this!”

His clever hands worked your phone from your belt. Keigo dropped it on the ground, where it shattered several feet below you. Your only chance of survival was to let him take you where he wanted and not get your brains to plaster the sidewalk. His wings soared over the city. You once imagined being in his arms like this. It only made your stomach churn with the thought of what he was going to do to you once you were where he wanted you.

Keigo dropped down in the industrial district. Factories surrounded you. The smell of iron and diesel filled your lungs. But of all the places he picked, why did Keigo go where you had the most advantage? Didn’t he realize that with all of this metal, you were the one with the home-field edge? You didn’t have the time to ask or react when he pulled out the gun from his jacket.

In a flash, your life flashed in your mind. You didn’t stand there waiting to die. At least, you were going to make sure they say you died fighting to your last breath. You charged for Keigo, metal whips whirring to life.

BANG!

It was over. Except instead of sweet oblivion that came with death, you found yourself bleeding on the ground. Your blood pooled around your knee, where he shot you. The pain was exquisite as the bullet lodged itself in your knee cap. You weren’t going to be standing on that leg for a very long time; you could forget about fighting. Keigo’s black shoes came into your line of vision. From shock, you got onto your elbows to look at the bastard.

“What…the hell?” You ground your teeth. “I didn’t picture…you to be the sadist. Going to kill…me…slowly? Is that how you roll now?”

Keigo put his gun away. Then, he reached into the other side of his jacket. When his hand came away this time, he held a syringe.

“That was just to keep you from fighting me. I’m going to get you patched up real quick. Just as soon as I give you your medicine.”

Keigo was faster than you. Your hand shot up to grab him, but the needle was already in your neck. He squeezed the trigger and pumped you full of the drug. It took a few minutes for it to kick in. By the time he had you in his arms again, your head was spinning. A moment later, you finally found that oblivion you were looking for earlier. This time, you were reasonably sure you’d wake up this time, and you weren’t going to know where he was taking you. And that was the scariest thought you had before passing out in the former hero’s arms.

When you woke up, you noticed the stiffness in your leg. Your favorite color draped the bed you laid in. Your hero’s costume was gone and replaced with a negligee you wouldn’t own even if you had a boyfriend. It, too, was in your favorite color. The lace hem barely touched your upper thigh.

Further down, your right leg was held in a cast. Your foot rested on a pillow. As your vision cleared, you got a better picture of where you were.

It could have been described as a room if only it had more than one wall. Where plaster walls should have been, stood solid gold bars. The floors were marble tiles. There was a dresser, a desk, a lavish set up on a vanity, and a familiar coffee table on which sat a widescreen T.V. Every item in your cell was made of either wood, fiber, plastic, or metal you couldn’t bend, including the bars. Squeezed between the actual wall and the cell bars stood a small room. With its door closed, so you couldn’t discern its purpose yet. Footsteps came down the hallway. They rounded the corner. Keigo smiled at you like you were a pretty bird in his cage.

“You’ve been asleep for a while now. Doc had to give you an extra shot so you wouldn’t wake up in the middle of your surgery. Sorry I had to bust your knee cap. You can be so stubborn sometimes.”

“Why am I in a cage? Why am I dressed like this? Just what the hell are you on?” You started to get up from the bed, but it was difficult to swing your leg over the bed when it was in a cast.

“In reverse order,” said Keigo, “I’m not on any drugs. I thought you would look cute in that negligee, and it’s in your favorite color. I put you here for your protection, and honestly, you look damn good in it.”

“Why? Why the hell did you do any of this?” You still struggled to move your damn leg.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’d hate to come in there and show you why.”

His eyes held a glimmer of that charm you once fell for, but there was a predatory light that eclipsed it. Keigo leaned against the bars, stroking the beams.

“Solid gold. It took me a long time to find enough money and resources to build this thing. A pretty little cage for my pretty little bird.”

“Just how long have you been saving?” You wanted to know how long he had wanted to put you in here, yet you still dreaded his answer.

“A couple of years. My original idea was to take us on a cruise. It probably would have been much more romantic, but things come up. You change your plans. Ideals become tainted, and you have to find new ones.”

“What happened to you? You were the number two hero! Some so many people looked up to you. There are still people who believe that this is just a rouse to capture the League of Villains. How could you do that? How could you betray everyone’s trust?”

Keigo didn’t say anything. He held his head down as if lost in the thought. He braced his forearm against the bars as he leaned his head against his arm. Inhaling a long breath,

Keigo let out an aggravated sigh. When he looked up at you, you saw a different man. “Let me ask you this, Princess. How could somebody’s parents sell their kid to the government? How could anyone take a small kid and turn them into a child soldier? For what? So they can pat themselves on the back and say that they’re morally superior to the villains. They take kids from their parents and steal their childhood. And when those kids grow into adults and realize what a shitty system they were raised in, they stare up at you surprised that you had enough of their bullshit.”

“T-Takami…”

“I realized too late that everything that was supposed to be mine was taken from me. My family. My name. My childhood. For what? So I can be number two behind a man like Endeavor. Have you spent time with the bastard? I never noticed it before, but all of a sudden, it becomes clear that society cares less about a hero’s moral code and more about their ability to beat down the nail that sticks out. Ever wonder how his youngest got that scar?”

You nodded. You vaguely remember hearing Endeavor talk about his youngest son.

“It turns out Endeavor pushed his wife around so much that she went mental. She burned the side of Shoto’s face because it reminded her of the man who knocked her around and forced to have his four kids. Does that sound like hero material to you?”

Blood drained from your face. It made sense…in a way. You never met Endeavor’s youngest, so you couldn’t verify the truth or not. For all you knew, Keigo was pulling it out of his ass to make you sympathize with him.

“Why didn’t you go to the authorities? There must have been someone who would have investigated it.”

“By the time I found out, nobody would have believed me at any rate. Endeavor might be a bastard, but he’s still the number one hero. I’m just the rejected garbage the Safety Commission doesn’t want to clean up.” Keigo unlocked the door to your cage.

“Why are you telling me this then?”

Keigo crossed the “room” and picked you up from the bed. You couldn’t move your leg without feeling a jolt of pain go up to your thigh. There was no way for you to struggle. “Because I made a deal with the League. As long as I keep you by my side and you don’t go anywhere, they won’t touch you or your family. I’m afraid you won’t be seeing much of the outside world for a while. At least until Shigaraki accomplishes his goals.”

“You know he’s crazy, right?” You sneered.

“Yeah. Little bit. He’s also the first person who made any damn sense when I realized how badly they screwed me over,” said Keigo as he carried you down the hall.

There were a few rooms that he walked past, but he stopped at the end of the hall. He kicked it open. Your heart fluttered like you were his bride; he carried over the threshold. Your stomach churned with guilt rotting inside it. You shouldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts for the man who turned into a villain and kidnapped you. He confessed to planning to keep you as a prisoner for however long it took for that maniac Shigaraki to complete his mission.

Keigo brought you to an actual bedroom. It was a little more sparse than the cage he planned to keep you in. He must have spent more on you than himself. Looking around, the bedroom contained a giant bed and little else. He had you sit on the bed for a moment. Keigo pulled back the covers and fluffed the pillows before gently grabbing you and laying you out. There was a contraption hanging from the ceiling that he pulled down using a thick cord. He slipped your leg into a sling and adjusted it to your comfort before Keigo left you to pull clothes from the dresser. He disappeared into the adjacent bathroom didn’t return until he was half-dressed in a pair of black sweatpants.

Small scars littered his chest and shoulders. From what, you dared not ask. You remembered his words about a stolen childhood to be raised as a soldier. You wondered if they were true. Your mind was plunged headfirst back into the present when Keigo crawled under the sheets with you. Your face went red.

“Relax, Princess. I’m not going to do anything,” he mumbled. He turned off the lights.

“Then why am I dressed like this?” You asked in the dark.

You felt Keigo’s weight make the bed dip. He settled on his side so he could snake his arm around your waist. He snuggled uncomfortably close, but he kept his hands mostly to himself or above the blanket.

“Because you look damn cute in (fave color). I like looking at you.”

His breath against your skin created goosebumps in its wake. Your eyes eventually closed to sleep. As you drifted off, you asked yourself: How long could you live like this?

---080---

#mha #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha smut #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #hawks #Keigo takami #reader fic #hawks x reader #au #villains!Hawks #Hawks smut #minors do not interact #minors begone

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scullydubois · 4 years ago

Text

Only the Light: Ch. 21

Hello, here is my ‘I didn’t plan for updates to take two weeks, but it always works out to two weeks’ post, right on time. Almost finished with this journey, thank you for sticking around <3

As Mulder helps care for his ill partner and her child, he enlists the Lone Gunmen to investigate the circumstances surrounding Scully's diagnosis. He and Melissa pay a visit to the three men, then Mulder gets an unwanted surprise back at apartment 42.

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

As Scully’s world has shrunk, the amount of love in it has grown. This is small consolation for the hell she’s enduring, but it is the only antidote. She realizes this now that she’s staring down the abyss: all the knowledge in the world won’t save you, and wealth is nothing but a false comfort. What will live on are the parts of herself she’s left with others. Her goal for her remaining time, however long that may be, is to hold tight to those she loves...not to slip away until her heart stops beating.

This is hard when she already feels like less of herself. She’s doing chemo twice a week at Georgetown, and it’s brutal. She knew it would be...her only other choice is to get that gravestone of hers re-engraved.

Meanwhile, Mulder pushed all other work aside to get in contact with the Mufon women. It only took him one day to do so, but Scully doesn’t know that, and for now, she doesn’t need to know. He’s keeping what he’s learned so far to himself...Betsy Hagopian is dead and has been since shortly after Scully saw her. Penny Northern is sick and not responding to treatment. A handful of other women, abductees like Scully, have developed rare cancers too.

It’s not something he knows how to talk about, such despondency. His world has always hinged on hope. That’s what his work on the X-Files is to him, one big leap of faith toward his sister. Or was, before Scully came along. It’s not that she diverted him from Samantha...no, she turned a very personal quest into something larger than him. Or her, or any one person they worked with. She pared it down to its core value, its overarching mission: the truth. Because the truth may hurt at first, but given time, it heals. And it is the only path to healing. This is what he’s learned from her. And now, he’s got to do everything he can to pass the revitalized world she’s shown him onto her.

The arrangement falls into place without any friction: Missy handles the chemo run on Monday mornings, and Mulder leaves work early on Thursdays. Emily spends Mondays with her grandma, and Thursdays too when Missy works the night shift.

Thursdays become something of a spiritual day for Mulder. The hours of approximately 3-10pm are spent doting on his partner--in her apartment, and then his car, then the hospital and his car again, and finally, back to her apartment. Mama Scully brings Emily back around eight, and if Missy’s not home, Mulder gets the honor of the bedtime ritual. The domesticity of it all tethers him to reality, maybe for the first time in his life. He’d give anything to change the circumstances, but it’s humbling to feel--for once--that he belongs on Earth.

It is on one of these Thursday evenings that Mulder could swear he feels his whole life trailing behind him, leading him to the present. The end of the year is creeping up in its usual fashion, which means the outside world is a blanket of darkness before the stoves of countless suburban homes have even been started. Having settled her comfortably into bed with a pile of pillows, Mulder carries his partner a glass of water and pulls the wastebasket to her side; this is their routine now.

“You doing okay?” he asks, lingering as she takes a sip of water. It will soon be time to make himself scarce so she can sleep.

She nods, gurgles a garbled affirmation. Mulder turns to go, and her heart leaps to her throat. “Will you stay?” she spews, embarrassed by her need.

“Of course.” She’s unaware, apparently, that when he leaves it’s for her, not him. He approaches her bedside, lowers himself carefully beside her knees. “Any particular reason?” he murmurs, examining the sunken spaces beneath her eyes.

“I just...wanted to talk to you,” she says, and Mulder thinks there might be a bit more color in her cheeks than there was yesterday.

“Okay.” He leans in and sweeps a strand of hair off her forehead so lightly that Scully doesn’t even feel it. She’s apprehensive about being touched these days, and he has taken this knowledge to heart. She is grateful, and to show the extent of this feeling, she strokes his hand, allows him to take hers in his. He runs his thumb over each finger as they continue.

He wants to ask what she’s thinking about, what it is that has so graciously extended his stay in this room. But he knows that she’ll get to it, that she has nothing to keep from him now.

There’s a sincere serenity on her face that he’s never seen. And after a minute or two, she begins. “I didn’t think it could happen--and it certainly doesn’t make much sense-- but right now, I am happier than I have ever been.”

A string on Mulder’s heart, tightened to its prime, bursts without warning.

She caresses the back of his head. “It’s so trivial, Mulder. So much of what we call life isn’t living at all. Or at least not the important kind.”

He lifts his gaze, eye contact conveying more than he could with words.

“But I’ve thought about the parts of my life that are living, and all of them, in some way, come back to you.”

Mulder shakes his head, feeling too flattered. “That’s not true…”

“You can believe whatever you need to,” she whispers, “but it is the truth, and I am eternally grateful that you happened to me.”

He tries to cough away some tears, which works about a quarter as well as he hoped it would. “Hold on, little lady.” He pats her hand in response to her smile. “I think you happened to me.”

Scully’s chest flutters in laughter. “Did I?” These subtle things have always been so important to them.

“You walked into my office, remember.”

“Well, I guess it would depend on who changed the most due to the other’s influence then,” she reasons.

Mulder just gives her a look.

She smirks. “Okay, so maybe I happened to you, but you…” she chews her lip, and this could be any other day of any other year if she weren’t bedridden. She picks out her words-- “You completed me.”

Mulder spills forward, finding his footing and spinning into the middle of the room. “Holy fuck Scully, are you trying to kill me?”

“We’ve been searching for the truth. That’s the truth, Mulder. I wanted you to know.”

He sets his jaw. He won’t burst into tears in front of her, not when she has all the reason to cry and yet has been so strong.

“You should get some sleep,” he tells her, hoping to expedite his exit from the room.

“I will. And it’s okay to be sad, but not for me. My life is as whole as ever.”

He nods, though he doesn’t agree (what’s new?). He knew Samantha for eight years and has been sad for twenty. He’s known Scully for half that--so he gets at least a decade of mourning.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, resting his hands on the door frame. “I’ll bring Emily in when she gets here.”

“Okay.” She closes her eyes, smiles. “Love you.”

“Love you too, DKS.” He blows a kiss and slips out, heat flooding to his face. This is the first time she’s said that unprompted, and is that what the threat of imminent death does to you? Pries you open?

He wonders. Whose love is saving who?

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

The primetime line-up is flickering over the television when Mama Scully arrives with Emily, passing her granddaughter to Mulder like the family heirloom she is. They exchange a few words in short breaths, reserving the air supply for their dear Dana. Mama Scully agrees to come see her daughter this weekend rather than interrupt her much-needed rest now, and Mulder is suddenly single parent-slash-babysitter; the specifics elude him.

Perfumed with baby powder from her grandmother’s overly enthusiastic hand, Mulder concludes that Em needs neither bathing nor changing. She doesn’t seem very keen on sleep either, seeing as how her little voice keeps calling out Moldy! and her little fists clobber his shoulders. Still, he will keep his promise. He carries her into the room she shares with her mother, stepping lightly lest the floorboards creak.

As he circles the bed to lay the child beside her sleeping mother, he winces at the mess in the trash can. Good thing he moved it into place though Scully had seemed okay. He hadn’t heard any retching, and it saddens him that he wasn’t there to hold her hair back. He settles Em into place, makes a mental note to rinse the can on his way out.

Her characteristically light sleep lightened further by her illness, Scully stirs from the shift of Emily’s weight against the mattress. She rolls toward the free side and flutters her eyelids open. Her smile is reflexive.

“Hello baby girl,” she purrs. She lays a hand against her daughter’s polka-dotted onesie. “Did you have a good day with Grandma?”

Emily answers with some fluttery babbling and gropes for her mother’s nose.

“I don’t think she’s very tired,” Mulder remarks, hands in his pockets. He smirks. “We should really find out what your mother feeds her.”

Scully pulls her lips into a grin, exhibiting a great deal more effort than she did just moments before. She blinks, rubs her eyes, and seems to go out of the world for a second. Then she sets her gaze on Mulder and speaks dreamily--”Will you tell us a bedtime story?”

“Oh!” Mulder scratches his chin, having expected his dismissal. “Do you think that would help…?”

Scully presses her head into the pillow. “I’m not gonna be able to fall back asleep until she does.”

That is a yes, served with some condescension.

“Okay, well, let me think.” He perches on the side of the bed. “Regrettably, I did not get my degree in bedtime stories.”

“Just say what you know,” Scully mumbles. “We’re the only ones listening, and the goal is to put us to sleep.”

“I hope that’s not a comment on my conversational skills,” he teases, smoothing the sheets.

Again, there’s a look of otherworldliness from his partner. She is somewhere else.

“Go on, tell us a story,” she hums, her surprising lack of impatience attributable to an equal lack of wakefulness.

“Let’s see…” He stretches out, perching on his elbow by Scully’s feet like she did in the first motel they ever stayed in. Emily sits herself up and grasps for him. He laughs, lets her latch onto his fingers.

“There once was a little girl who loved horses and bugging her brother,” he begins. “Now, I’m sure she sounds like just about any little girl out there, but I promise, she was as unique as they come.”

Scully closes her eyes and tilts her head back to listen.

“She always said she wanted to be a butterfly when she grew up so she could spread her wings and fly. And her parents would scoff and tell her that would never be possible, but she believed. She believed it would happen.”

Emily babbles along, adding her own colorful commentary.

“I know, I know right?” Mulder muses to the little girl. “The parents were such jerks.”

He tickles Em’s stomach, then remembers that he’s supposed to be helping her go to sleep. He kisses her temple and begins stroking her knee, hoping to achieve a hypnotic rhythm.

“And so one day, this little girl...well, this little girl got to go on an adventure. She left behind her house and her family, and she got to go up to the sky and see the stars, and it was everything she wished for.”

Scully opens her eyes slowly. Mulder’s focus is centered on Emily, who stares up at him with the awe of a museum-goer seeing the Starry Night. It is as if they are the only two in the room, and this gives Scully great comfort, for she can imagine them having a life after she is gone.

“The girl’s family was sad because they didn’t know where she went. The girl’s brother missed her the most, but it was okay because the girl was happy. She got to fly through the sky like a bird or a plane, and she achieved the dream that her parents thought would never come true.”

Em’s breathing begins to slow into sleep. And thank god, cause he’s running out of story to tell.

“Lay down, little girl.” He guides her onto her back so she can drift off without difficulty, then clears his throat softly.

“Some say that if you see a light in the night sky, that’s this little girl, floating among the stars, living her dream. And her brother, well, he’s pretty fond of that thought. He just wants her to be happy.”

Silence falls over the room like a throbbing sensation of unknown origin. Emily’s eyelids struggle between open and closed, and Mulder knows she will soon be out. Scully’s baby blues, meanwhile, peer at him with such unflinching intensity that he suspects she has fallen asleep like that. It is haunting, but it becomes much less so when she blinks and he realizes that she’s looking at him, that she heard the whole story.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers, half expecting her not to answer.

“It was beautiful, Mulder. Samantha lives on.”

He smiles from his eyes...oh, of course it was obvious, his little tribute to his sister. Scully said to work from what he knew, and this myth is something he’s used to keep himself going since his family realized that there would be no happy reunion with Sam. He’s happy to share his fantasy; such escapes are needed now.

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

Melissa’s heart leaps when she opens the apartment door to an empty living room. The TV drones out its slapstick laugh track, contributing to the ominous atmosphere. She’d expect to see Mulder taking up a restless refuge on the couch, or maybe sneaking a late night snack to Em. Her sister should be fast asleep by now, her little world able to slacken its hold on her. Unless she is no longer afforded such luxury…

Missy rushes toward Dana’s bedroom, her purse still on her shoulder. In the doorway she slows as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. And thank goodness because three silhouettes catch her eye; a medium one buried under the covers, a large one strewn diagonally across the bed, and a small bump barely visible on the far side. A snore of unidentifiable origin is the only disturbance. Missy smiles to herself. All the missing persons are accounted for and well. She can continue with the blissfully bland routine of her night.

She washes her face and brews some chamomile before settling on the couch with the week’s issues of Mad Magazine and Vogue. Yes, she contains multitudes. She’s up to the Spy vs. Spy comic when Mulder strolls in, yawning.

“I guess my bedtime story was effective.”

“Mmm.” Missy scoots her mug over so he can prop his feet up. Dana hates feet on furniture, but she’s got a child in the house now, so she’ll have to let go of those judgments. “How is she?”

“Oh shit.” She’s jogged something in his memory. “I meant to grab the trash can on the way out.”

Missy knows what this means. “I’ll get it in a second.”

Mulder nods in silent gratitude, relaxes back into his spot. “She seemed livelier than usual when we got home.”

It hits him that he said home, not back. And well, it is Scully’s home. What about him? He sleeps on the couch and he doesn’t pay rent...that’s how he lived at Oxford, though he gets the feeling that it’s not as evergreen at thirty-three years old.

These days, he only goes to his place on Sunday nights to get (what he considers) a week’s worth of clothing--two work outfits (hey, he never really sees anyone but Scully anyway) and one casual outfit that doubles as pajamas. He bought a bunch of fish feeding tablets so all he has to do is drop a few in on Sunday and the fish are set for the week. As far as he can tell, at least. None of them have floated to the top of the tank yet.

“And Em is all good?” Missy confirms.

Mulder nods. “Your mom takes good care of her.”

“I think I know the answer to this, but do you want some tea?” Missy asks, flashing her mug.

“No, no, save it for yourself.”

“Alright.” She flips a page in her magazine. “Just let me know when you’re ready to kick me out. Since I’m kind of in your bed and all.”

“I should be telling you that,” Mulder counters. “You don’t mind me staying here, do you?”

“Not at all.” Missy lays the magazine on the table. “It’s important that you’re around.”

“Really?...For what?”

“For who,” Missy corrects. “Emily needs you to give her balance, and Dana...she just needs you. You’re the safety net under her tightrope.”

“Oh.” This metaphor grounds Mulder better than gravity ever has.

Missy seems to sense this and takes the opportunity to profit off his vulnerability. “So what’s gone on between you?” she asks, an eyebrow arched.

Mulder squints at her. “Huh?”

“I keep waiting for Dana to kick you out or get irritated about you being around all the time,” Missy says with honest simplicity. “But instead, she lets you take her to chemo and fall asleep in her bed…”

“Well, I think the former is more ideal than the alternative, which is that I watch her child,” Mulder replies. “And I fell asleep on the bed, not in it.”

“Okay.” Missy sips her tea, keeps her eyes on him.

It’s pointless for Mulder to try to keep secrets anymore. He wrings out his hands. “If you must know, when you dropped her off at my apartment after her appointment, we... came to a mutual understanding.”

“Ah.” Missy is not surprised by any of it. Of course it happened. Of course her sister hasn’t mentioned it.

“Why are you just asking about this now?”

“Cause I expected my suspicions to be proven wrong, and that hasn’t happened.”

Mulder nods, taps absentmindedly on his knee. “Actually, I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” She’s intrigued. The enigmatic Fox Mulder, divulging on his own accord.

“Don’t get excited, it’s not good.”

Damn. Missy reels herself in. “About Dana?”

“About what happened to her or...what is happening to her. It’s about the Mufon women.”

Missy curls her legs beneath herself. “You reached them?”

He nods. “Well, Penny Northern’s hospice nurse picked up when I called. She’s got stage four tumors throughout her body that migrated from her nasopharynx.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Apparently most of the other abductees have cancer too. And Betsy Hagopian--the woman who Scully saw in the hospital last spring--is dead.”

Missy’s gaze drops to the floor. “So the invasive procedures that the abductors did are killing these women.”

“One doctor’s treating them all--he’s supposed to be a specialist--but it doesn’t look like he’s having much success.” Mulder pauses, his mouth partially open.

“What?” Missy presses.

“The Lone Gunmen and I have been looking into him, and we think that he might have been involved in the abductions.”

Missy barrels forward. “You think he did this to them on purpose and now he’s letting them die?”

Mulder nods solemnly.

“Well, we have to stop him. We can’t let any more patients go to him, especially Dana…”

“I know. I’m going down to see the Lone Gunmen tomorrow after work if you want to join me.”

Missy contemplates. “I have the lunch shift tomorrow, so I could. What would we tell Dana?”

“I’ll say that Skinner is keeping me late to go over some paperwork. You could say whatever, she’s not going to question you.”

“I hate to leave her alone for so long, but...yeah, we have to do this.” She leans back, takes another look at Mulder. “You might just save a lot of women, you know.”

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

Missy feels unseen eyes bore into her as she and Mulder approach the basement entrance of a helter-skelter building. She doesn’t recognize the part of town they’re in, and she doesn’t ask.

Mulder hits the button on a call box beside the door. Before he can speak, a voice leaps out at them.

“Howdy Mulderoony.” Mulder recognizes it as Frohike’s voice. “Glad to see you made it safely.”

A variety of locks and chains are undone, the door pulled open.

“Join our ménage a trois,” Frohike says, ushering them in.

“We can’t stay long,” Mulder tells them, squinting as he adjusts to the darkness of their realm. “You guys forget to pay the electric bill or something?”

“We’re conserving electricity,” Byers says, a shadow in the corner of the room. “It’s good for the environment.”

“I didn’t realize the environment was on your list of concerns.”

“It should be on everyone’s list of concerns,” Byers throws back matter-of-factly.

Mulder slides his hands into his pockets. “Touché.”

Ringo comes forward from the darkness, his hair as tressed and greasy as ever. “Well lookie here. Dana Scully in the flesh.”

Frohike inserts himself between them. “You can’t be serious, pool boy. That’s not her, I’d know her anywhere. It is, however, an equally lovely woman.” He takes Missy’s hand and kisses it. “My lady.”

Missy participates with amusement until Mulder brushes Frohike aside.

“Okay boys, lay off. This is Scully’s sister Melissa. And I believe she’s taken.”

Frohike bows. “A lucky man.”

“Woman,” Missy corrects.

“Oh. Excusez-moi."

Tucked in the darkness, Byers scoffs at the childish antics. “Come on, let’s cut to the chase. Lives are at stake.”

“I’m glad to see someone has a brain around here,” Mulder quips.

Ringo pats Mulder’s shoulder. “Not all of us got a full-ride to Oxford, but hey, I’d say we’ve done pretty well for ourselves.”

“Calm down, Ringo. You’d still be the smartest member of the Ramones.”

Like an unleashed dog, Ringo lunges forward, and Byers and Frohike pull him back. They are quite used to this.

“You can insult me, but never speak ill of the Ramones!” Ringo growls.

Mulder puts his hands up, smirks at the permission he’s been given. “Happily.”

Missy clears her throat, her amusement wearing thin. She’s like her sister in this way.

Mulder gets the memo. “Right. Can the trash talk, we’re here to catch a criminal.”

“If he is, in fact, a criminal,” Byers remarks.

Missy frowns. “Haven’t you proved that?”

“We’re connecting the dots, but we haven’t completed the picture yet,” Byers replies.

Mulder circles around to Byers’ monitor. “What have you got?”

“This doctor, Scanlon, isn’t just an oncologist,” Ringo begins, as if Mulder asked him. “His name is associated with the Lombard Research Facility.”

Mulder and Missy both give him a look. More, more!

“A high security medical research center in Allentown,” he clarifies.

“We’ve hacked into some of the security cameras,” Frohike tells them. “We’d have to get in to see for ourselves, but the activity is rather suspicious. The same men, in and out, at odd times. Whatever they’re storing in there, it’s significant.”

“Then let’s get in,” Mulder emphasizes. “You be the eyes and ears, I’ll be the legs.”

Ringo nods. “We’re working on it.”

“We need to observe their weekend patterns before we make any moves,” Byers insists. “We don’t set up our missions to fail.”

“Fine, but as soon as you’ve reached your confidence threshold--”

“We’ll call you,” Ringo promises.

“What are you expecting to find?” Missy asks, frenzied. “Will it help Dana?”

Frohike drums his fingers on the desk. “That’s the plan.”

Byers nods. “We can’t be sure exactly what we’ll find, but the connection is clear: Scanlon was involved with the abductions, and he’s exploiting these women for his own benefit.”

Melissa shivers involuntarily. “It’s amazing that you’ve figured this out.”

Ringo twirls a pencil through his hair. “We have a lot of free time on our hands.”

Mulder takes a shot at the mini-basketball hoop they have, misses. “And you’d better use it all to implicate Dr. Scanlon’s ass.”

Frohike does a two-finger salute. “Aye aye captain.”

Mulder thumbs toward the door. “Now we’ve gotta get out of here before the smell sticks to us. Scully will know exactly where we’ve been,” he smirks.

“Can’t argue with that.” Frohike shows them to the door. “Give the lady my regards.”

“Will do.” He turns back, exchanges a serious glance with each man. “Sort this out, boys.”

Just as quickly as they came, he and Melissa step out of the chambers and ascend back into the sun’s dominion. Entrusting those three with the well-being of a woman they love so much is far from ideal, and yet, they’re throwing all their faith into it.

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

Mulder slides his key into the door of apartment 42 shortly after seven on Sunday evening. He hasn’t been in for a week, and yet a vivid scent of...smoke sticks about the place. And a wrinkled mess of a man to go with it.

The old man lifts his chin. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Mulder is no longer naïve enough to be taken aback by Cancer Man’s ambush. He shrugs and slides his coat off. “Well, you are in my apartment.”

“I’ve heard that your partner is very sick,” CSM says, his steps so clunky that Mulder wonders whether the downstairs tenants will complain.

“What grapevine did you get that from?...Or are you the one growing the grapes?”

“It saddened me to hear. Agent Scully is a valuable member of the Bureau.”

Mulder nods. “You here to pass on your condolences? Cause I’m pretty sure you could just send a card.”

“I’m here to propose a solution...The doctors say your partner’s sickness is incurable. This is not true.”

“Smarter than the doctors, are you?”

“In this case I am.”

A bitter laugh rises from Mulder. “So I’m supposed to believe that you were involved in sickening Scully, yet you want to save her?”

“We all have our regrets.”

“And I have no reason to trust you.”

“Upon learning about her child, I feel a deep need to intervene.”

“Mmm.” Mulder begins to pace. “And by learning about her child, do you mean when Scully’s ova were removed and fertilized without her knowledge? Because I have a hard time believing that you didn’t know a thing about Emily until Scully got custody.”

“Certainly I did not foresee Emily ending up in her mother’s custody.”

“What was the purpose then, of Emily? To terrorize a woman by taking away her bodily autonomy?”

CSM shrugs. “That’s not my area.”

Mulder scoffs. “Okay you old freak. Tell me how to save Scully’s life or get the hell out of here.”

The wrinkled man folds his hands. “She had a silicone implant removed from her neck. Put it back in.”

Mulder freezes. “Are you serious? That’s your miracle cure?”

CSM nods. “It is the only way to save her life. Removing the implant is what caused the cancer in the first place.”

Mulder steps forward, getting in the old man’s face like a middle-school bully. He’s ready to throw a punch--honestly, ready to kill the man--if need be. He could do it. Easily. He could.

“What does the implant do, Cancer Man?”

“Believe it or not, it is meant as a sort of inoculation. It offsets the negative effects of any tests performed during the...time away.”

“Uh-huh, and what do you get from it?”

“Who says I get anything from it?”

“How else would you know that she had it removed?”

“I am everywhere, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder loses his thinly-veiled calm, wraps his hand around the man’s saggy neck. “You fucking pervert, I’ll kill you! I’ve killed a man before just like this. Tell me the truth.”

“This is the truth,” CSM wheezes, not intimidated by his rapidly deteriorating air flow. His cold, hard eyes stare into Mulder’s. “You wouldn’t kill a man over nothing, would you?”

Mulder squeezes harder, his fingers gripping the man’s pulse. He watches the light drain from his victim’s eyes. All the old bastard does is smirk at him.

Angered by this more than anything, Mulder releases the man so suddenly that his bony body is thrown into the wall. He keeps his footing, stumbles forward.

“Get out,” Mulder growls. When he doesn’t respond, Mulder pokes his finger at the door. “Get out now!”

CSM dusts himself off and walks out, the pompous smirk never leaving his face. Mulder slams the door shut behind him.

There are certain truths he cannot escape. If Scully has made him believe in Heaven, CSM has made him believe in Hell.

#sincerely hope i did the lone gunmen justice lol #also i feel like this chapter is...a normal episode amount of angsty instead of the slow paper cut of the last chapter #the x-files #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #txf #txf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine #eww this looks weird w/the tumblr update!!#read it on ao3 lol

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years ago

Text

The Full Moon (A White Demon’s Love Song, Part 7.)

Series description: A new job was the reason you found yourself on a lonely road trip on the western coast, ending up in the woods of the Olympian Peninsula. Yet a sudden car malfunction was what cause your unplanned stay in Forks. To your surprise, there was a lot of sinister things going on under the veil of fog.

Part Summary: As the relationship between you and the grumpy shapeshifter finally moved on to the better ground, you knew you were now in the position to ask to see more of the magic that Quilete people could do.

A/N: Okay, okay, okay. I'm back and... Let's get this bad boy running, shall we?

Tagging: @missdictatorme

Word count: 4.6 K

Twilight playlist: ✨ Twilight Crackheads ✨

Series masterlist: H E R E

Jacob sat there in dead silence for a moment, before he looked back at you, just sitting there, chewing the meat and staring at him with a small smile. - "Are you sure that you're in the right headspace? We can talk about this later if you want." - At that, you furrowed. You've asked him to show you the wolf again. Okay, maybe, you've been making a fairground attraction out of his abilities and you weren't afraid to tell it out loud, but you wanted to see the animal again. You were curious about seeing it. - "What are you after?" - You mumbled, taking another bite from your almost cold meal. Dear Lord, you've been sitting at the table for more than half an hour. - "You've hit your head, had a panic attack, fainted twice, and even though, you want to see it again. Don't you have any sort of self-preservation instinct? Or do you just find it exciting to have your life threatened all the time?"

It was played out as a joke and you both grinned, you even let out a small laugh... But it was just reminding Jacob of her. How excited she was to discover the werewolves, that she was fond of learning more about them - more so, there was a short fascination phase. Funny, how things sometimes replayed the exact way it was before. - "Hey, look at it from my perspective. I've been living my whole life listening to fairytales and legends, myths, stories... And now, I've learned that some of them are real. Of course, I want to see it again." - "It's not a magic trick. It's who I am, Y/N." - Jacob looked you dead in the eyes to scare you off a bit, but it hadn't made you even flinch. - "And I do respect that, Jacob." - It was just a whisper, but the five words meant a whole lot.

You were telling him that you're respecting this side of him and that you're not scared anymore. Well, that you're not scared of him, more so - which was fair, there was something way more malicious to be scared of. The cold ones, knowns also as the fricking vam-pi-res which you still couldn't say out loud. And now, it was your conflict as well, whether you wanted to take part in it or not. You were there and you should accommodate real fast, or it's going to cost a lot more than a slight concussion, two faintings, and obviously, making yourself an idiot out of yourself in front of fucking everyone. Which made you furrow. - "How do you even know I fainted twice and that I was acting like an idiot? You weren't here - Seth was with me the whole time." - "It's going to get crazier than it already is... Do you want me to answer this one?" - Jacob furrowed and you nodded. - "Are you sure?" - He asked once more. Again, you nodded

Maybe you thought that you're going crazy, Jacob couldn't tell what was going through that head of yours. So far, it seemed that not that much was going on there. And so, he went for it. - "We can see, hear, and feel our thoughts. The members of the pack a 24/7 access to every thought that has ever gone through your head, every feeling that went through... They can see everything. It's very uncomfortable and scary - but that's how I know what was happening here." - "Like all the time?" - "No, only when we shift and the person shifts around the same time." - Wow. How many boobies did the werewolves have to see? How much of the action... Did they see? Sex was the last appropriate thought in a situation like this one - but it was the most natural one.

Once more, your face was looking like a frozen Windows XP program as you thought about all the dirty secrets they knew about eating others... Well, there weren't any dirty secrets if they simply saw all of them, huh? That was one of the most fucked up things you've heard until that day. - "And can you like... Not share with them?" - You wondered after at least two-minutes-lasting silence. - "When you're good at playing mind games or you're a total asshole, constantly thinking about something unpleasant, theoretically, you can hide some of your memories... But trust me, we've been in each other's heads for enough of a long time. Mind games start to bore you to death after some time." - "But it's better than seeing someone bending Betty from the gas station over a table, ain't it? I'm sorry, but I can't stand the bare thought of seeing my friends... Doing stuff. Yuck." - At that, Jacob snickered - which fluidly translated to a burst of happy laughter. - "I'm talking years of being in each other's heads. Not just... Weeks or months. No matter how hard you'd try to conceal everything, there's always a small moment of vulnerability, which can tell others everything, especially when you imprint. Then you don't care about how the miserable singles perceive your all-day projection of a happy relationship." - Jacob mumbled then, his expression coldening at the end of his statement.

Again, there was this hint of sadness and the other Jacob taking over the wheel, steering the ship for now. Yet now, you were to jump straight into the sadness. - "Come again? Imprinting? And what's that about?" - You asked, reminding him that most of this is all news for you. You've never been inside the consciousness of the pack - you never saw Quil constantly gushing over his precious Claire, or before, you couldn't hear Sam thinking of Emily. At the start, it was sweet, but occasionally, it started to feel like flexing on the members who hadn't found the one yet. - "That's another form of slavery we, as the werewolves, participate in." - Jacob tried to joke around, but the tone of his voice gave him in. - "Okay, I'm ready to hear about that."

It wasn't making Jacob easy to talk about the imprinting, trying to explain it to someone - again. But he did. He talked about endless love where the wolf had no choice but to listen to the damn calling of his imprintee. He couldn't leave, he couldn't just stop loving them, the wolves had no choice in this matter. It was one of the most unfair and disgusting, weird things you've heard about that evening. But it made you think... Maybe this was why Jacob was so sour about Bella all the time. He imprinted - and she just let his trust go, becoming a vampire. She let him suffer, alone and unwanted. - "Did it..." - "No." - Jacob answered before you've even finished your question. So that wasn't what happened either - but you were positive that something similar to it had happened. The idea simply haunted you - how would it feel to fall for someone without choosing to do so? Without any reasoning?

On the other hand, it must've been extremely freeing. Not to think about doing right and wrong, just to do as your head tells you to - to love, admire and care for a person until the point it almost kills you, not to put yourself and your feelings in the first place... Damn. It had pros and cons. - "Okay." - You said when you've settled all the ideas inside your head. - "When we'll be doing it? I mean, when you're going to show me?" - Well, you certainly weren't fucking around. There was no question about IF Jake's going to show you, the question asked was starting with WHEN. On one hand, you've had the right to know more about it. On the other hand, it was none of your fucking business - especially with the vampires lurking around Forks.

And as usual for Jacob, he chooses the less logical solution. - "Tonight. I have a watch over the Ozette lake and I'm supposed to be alone there. Also, it's not probable for the leeches to track us out there." - Jacob was never the best with making good decisions, that was the first thing going on there. The second matter was that Jacob was sure you'd follow him into the woods - and if you'd drop dead again, Seth couldn't be the prince to rescue this time. The third thing about this situation was that it would be most likely the best solution, for a few days, to stick with one of the wolves. The trackers hadn't come across the few drops you've let in the forest when you banged your forehead into a damn root - they'd surely soon do so since it was quite smelly.

Now, when you were on board with everything, it also wasn't so crazy to ask you about borrowing a t-shirt from you. Sure, other boys and mainly Sam won't be too happy with how much did Jacob tell you - yet it was better than you walking around without having any clue. He could leave out some parts, for sure, but why would he do so? He was in a fucking shitty situation - no way in hell would he be pretending that everything on the planet is a-ok. - "Okay." - You chimed happily. Suddenly, you whipped folds with papers on the table, working as you ate the last crumpets on your plate. - "Also, there's this one problem." - "The money doesn't add up? " - Jacob asked back, his eyes glued to the TV. - "No, I'm just almost done with all the papers I was able to find there. You don't have the business for too long, do you?

At this, another bit of the conversation was started - Jacob told you how he got the old workshop from a mechanic who was too old to keep up. Of course, he paid something for the business, but it was more of a symbolic amount of money than a huge sum. Jacob also started to keep the record about all the gigs he has taken since he started to work as the new mechanic; yet despite his best tries, he was a messy person - your help was heavily appreciated in this field. This start-up was just what Jacob needed to leave La Push. He was still spending some time at the weekend in there with his dad, Seth, and his other friends, but now, he was trying to get through life on his own.

He dreamt about going on a vacation to somewhere where it's always sunny and warm, but he was still saving up for the dreamy trip of his life. Which, as you guessed, wasn't going too well. Jacob, being the good-willed idiot, was trying to help the needy people who couldn't afford to pay that much for a mechanic and there was a lot of small amounts of money he just... Let go. Just like with you, with Mrs. Peterson, and a ton of other people. So... He was most likely to spend his whole damn life in Forks. - "Yeah, but I mean... I will be done soon. What should I do when all the papers are sorted?" - You asked when the story was ended. - "Well, since you still have a debt, you might as well help me with the gigs, I suppose. Tomorrow, I have one in Sappho and then two cars in La Push, I think. And a routine check-up at the station... And then your car." - Jacob started to count on his fingers, naming every gig he had written into his calendar. - "I don't know anything about cars. And you've told me that you're gonna do something to me if I even get close to one of your cars. The cars don't like me either, just to let you know." - At that, Jacob laughed into the back of his palm. - "I'll be there and I'll show you your way around the cars, I swear. You won't be letting anyone's car blow up on my watch." - And there, it was the start of something so-called a friendship.

As Jacob promised, it could be around 8 p.m. as you both climbed into the tank he called a car. He made sure you've made yourself some hot tea and put it into a Thermo cup, some food, he so made you take your jacket and his raincoat just to be sure you won't feel cold. The whole ride to the unknown was quiet, yet in a nice way. You've been shifting on your seat expectedly, watching your surroundings. There were woods as far as you could see, nothing but deep and dark woods. Suddenly, Jacob turned off the engine and looked at you. You've been in the middle of literal nowhere, yet Jacob was sure you're just where you've been supposed to be. - "Well, come on, we're here." - The man smiled sadly. He was playing out the worst scenarios inside his mind for the last ten minutes and he was just praying you wouldn't fain when he'd show his wolf form to you. - "We'll be walking for half an hour," - "In this pitch-black night? Are you out of your mind?" - At that weak argument, Jacob snickered quite happily.

"I forgot you can't see that well in the dark." - The man scratched the nape of his neck as he looked around. - "But you'll be just fine, trust me. Let's go." - With a quite loud clap, he ventured to the forest head first, not waiting for what you wanted to do. Unexpectedly, you stood still at the trunk of his car while the wildest thoughts raced through your mind. That man told you, just mere hours ago, that there are vam-pi-res somewhere in the woods and now he wanted you to wander somewhere behind him, orienting only through the sounds of his heavy footsteps... Jacob was surely half-insane, you were one hundred percent sure of that. Suddenly, said crazy man popped his head on the other side of the trunk, making you squirm in fear. First, you ducked and tried to hide, but then, your mind clicked as your brain realized it's only Jacob

"Holy mother of shit." - The curse made Jacob grin, but he didn't say a single word as he leaned his elbows to the sides of the said trunk. - "I swear to God that I'll have a heart attack if you keep fucking around with me. You scared me to death."

"What are you so scared about? I've heard everyone looks better in the dark, Y/N, which makes me the best looking man in all of the Forks and La Push." - At that argument, a wide grin appeared on your face. Sure, you still were a bit tense, but as of now, Jacob's presence was calming you down... Which was a thing you thought you'd never say out loud. In the end, he was one grumpy and scary package. As of now, he was tall as a mountain and pretty well-built as far as you could judge; said man could also turn into a wolf at will, so it was a win-win situation. You had to be safe with him even if you didn't want to. - "Debatable." - It was not much more than a silent mumble when you answered Jacob. - "Come on. Don't be a sissy, nothing bad can happen to you. I can't smell anything inhuman in here. You're safe."

To be absolutely exact, Jacob couldn't smell anything other than you. Not that you'd be smelly or smelling funny, your smell was just outrageously strong, even in an opened, windy space. But he was sure that if any leech would be lurking around, he'd either see or smell them. - "Sissy?" - Was the answer you came up with, leaving the safe space behind the trunk. With never-before-seen confidence, you walked up to the edge of the woods, quite literally pulling your sleeves up in the process. - "You called me a sissy? Well, young man, you just outdo yourself. I'm no sissy." - And just like that, you stumbled to the pitch-black dark forest, walking a few steps forward between mossy, cold trees. At first, you still knew Jake's right behind to watch each of the steps you made, yet as the time passed by, the silence was growing louder and louder.

You've made it a few feet into the woods before you realized that you, in fact, were a total sissy. As you walked out of the edge again, you could now see Jacob resting his back on the side of his car, watching you with a small, daring smile. - "I gave you a minute before you walk back out. You impressed me with your time of a minute and fifteen seconds." - "Oh, fuck off. A forest is a freaky place when you can't see even a foot away from you. I almost hit a tree with my forehead." - With a sigh, you caught the straps of your backpack in your palms and looked at him. - "Well, lucky for you, I have a plan B."

First, you didn't know what he was doing - the man kneeled in front of you while showing you his back, waiting for you to do something. What you were supposed to do was in no way clear to you, to be honest. - "Are you climbing on it or not?" - Jacob asked impatiently after almost a minute of getting his knees wet. Were you doing... What? What did the man just ask you to do? To climb on his back? Well, who were you not to deliver?

With all the concentration you had in you and with the best skill you could have while wearing two thick jackets, you climbed on his back, making sure you were holding to his shoulders as firmly as you could. At first, it seemed to be working - with little to no actual force, Jacob walked at least half a mile with you on his back. The only problem was your ass slowly slipping down with each step he took. And suddenly...

"Oh, loca. Did you hurt yourself?" - As soon as Jacob heard a loud wet thud, he knew you've fallen directly on your ass. Yeah, it did hurt a little, but it was nothing you wouldn't walk off pretty easily. - "No, I think I'm good, it's basically nothing." - A mutter along with a sharp curse word left your lips as you tried to pick yourself hard. And you needed to say that it wasn't the easiest task when you couldn't see more than one and a half feet from you. Jacob watched you trying to find a tree nearby with a smirk on his face before he actually bowed down and made sure to pick you up bridal style.

"I can walk on my own, Jesus Christ, Black! I'm heavy!" - A quiet squirm hit Jacob's ears as he started running with you in his arms as if you were nothing but air. Even though you started to wiggle a bit to show you're not consenting to be carried, the man could hear your heart slowly calming down. Just like that, you felt very safe. - "We can talk about that once you start walking properly. You women really need to work on your marches, let me tell you that." - Jacob answered while making his way forward as if you weren't even there. - "It's hard to walk when you can't see for your dear life." - Was the last mutter you left out before curling up closer to the warmth he radiated as you tried to find a better position for yourself to relieve both him and you.

Jacob remembered the forest trail to lake Ozette from the back of his head. During the day, the place could be lovely when any leeches were around - it was a huge body of water laying as far as an eye could see, some shores were beachy, some of them were covered in reeds. When the summer was warm enough, it was one of Jake's favorite spots to take a swim at along with the boys, especially when they decided they are bored of cliff diving for now. As he thought about that, there were many beautiful spots around Washington the guides didn't talk about and which you definitely had to see for yourself - just like that one meadow high up in the mountains, or the canyon cutting the edge between Quileute and Cullen territory. There was just something simply magical about these spots.

It took him a moment to form the right kind of sentence before he started talking. Which, let's be honest, kinda freaked you out - the man was running around a pitch-black forest with you in his arms and nothing more than jean shorts and a plain t-shirt on, barefoot, let you add and he still found to breath to talk to you amidst all of that. - "You know, if we survive all of this in good health..." - Jacob started carefully. It was meant as a joke, but seeing your eyes widen in horror made him realize this wasn't funny to you. - "I mean, when all this is over, because, we will destroy those leeches and that's a promise, I think I have some secret spots for you that you might want to see." - "But... What about my car? Won't it be long repaired by then?" - Ouch. It was a good question, but it hurt the good-hearted Jacob right in the feels; this time, the mean, grumpy guy wasn't in charge.

Yes, he should focus on repairing your car as quickly as he was capable of just to get you out of Forks for good. As a reward, he wouldn't feel the heavy responsibility for another human being who was fully dependant on him and his pack in this scenario. On the other hand... - "What if we don't get the right parts, huh? I think you should start to prepare for prolonging your stay in Forks and by all means, you should find yourself a good part-time job. Newtons always look for a part-time worker." - Even if you could see just a sheer glimpse of his teeth, you knew he was basically smiling from ear to ear.

"Jacob Black, you're one of the best mechanics I've seen," - Wow. That was a huge compliment. Yet, then the second part of the sentence came to play and it ruined the nice thing completely. - "Truth is, I have seen like... One mechanic working. But you seem to be great at what you're doing and with your love for classic cars, there's no way in hell you wouldn't get my Beetle working." - "You meant do say the wreck, didn't you?" - "Oh, fuck you. No more compliments for you, you get cocky too easily." - To keep you in the headspace of winning that small quarrel, Jacob didn't say a word throughout the rest of the way. It wasn't much longer a mere five minutes later when something very bright hit your eyes.

Oh, it was the moon. It made sense - no clouds were in the sky, it was clear and you've also been miles away from the nearest small town. Here, as it reflected in the masses of water, the moon looked as big as never before. When Jacob put you down, you didn't wait for a signal that the proximity of Ozette if vam-pi-re free and just walked to the meadow surrounding it. As it was to be expected, it was cold as hell - there was a huge mass of water in front of you and the wind was blowing; yet your eyes were basically glued to the big, grey, shiny ball on the sky. - "I told you there are some secret spots you might enjoy." - Black grinned as he pressed something to your hand. At first, you just nodded with your mouth opened as you were unable to look away, yet as soon as you realized you're holding a piece of cloth, it hit you - Jacob walk walking back to the edge of the forest's edge, unzipping his jean shorts. It was happening.

With a soft thud, you took down your backpack and turned head first towards the spot the man disappeared at. Nothing more than a splashing of water and soft howling of the wind could be heard, yet you knew exactly what was happening. And when it happened, the sound reminded you of a quiet, strange explosion, you knew that this time, you've been perfectly prepared for what was waiting for you hidden just ten feet away from the nearest tree.

This time, when you saw it, you hadn't fainted. In fact, you stood perfectly still and watched the majestic animals slowly walking towards you.

#the twilight saga #jacob black #jacob black x fem!reader #the werewolf bois are back baby #you'll see them in the next round #they'll make at least a guest appearance #damn it feels good to be back #even if i just finish this series #did you listen to twilight soundtrack?#you should #it's cracked #i swear

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