#but reading it all through helps me see that it isn’t progressing as slow as I was afraid of

[nat-seal-well]

hehe

[seeingivy]

spiderman’s sweetheart 

spider!eren x f!reader 

you find yourself helping out your friendly neighborhood spiderman

content: spiderman au!, mentions of violence/blood/injury, a very corny spider gang, pieck + hange best girlfriends and aunts, they keep calling the female titan a pervert, the iconic spiderverse monologue at the end

an: based on a request I received from @cutiejg hope you like it sweetie pie!!!! ur request made me so excited I just had to write it now bc I LOVE LOVE LOVE SPIDERMAN 

-- 

Eren’s late. He’s late, he’s late, he’s late. 

His skateboards not moving him nearly fast enough and the stupid fucking school security stopping him every ten feet isn’t helping him either. And the cracks in the pavement slowing him down and the soreness from last night aren’t exactly boosters either. 

When he reaches the basketball courts, he sees you sitting there and feels his heart drop - black sunglasses perched on your face, your hair glowing in the sun, and your nose stuck in a book. As he walks up, he instantly recognizes the cover of the book you’re reading - The Heir to the Jedi - one of his favorite novels from when he was younger. 

He picks up his skateboard from the ground, running his hand through his hair one time before he clears his throat to get your attention. He watches intently as look up, giving him a smile as you yank your earbuds out of your ears. 

“Hi. I’m Eren. Eren Yeager. From the yearbook? We uh- went to elementary school together. And middle school. The same class too - with that hardass Mr. Levi? And uh-I’m sorry I’m late, I just got out of work.” 

Work. In his job as the cities most wanted vigilante, Spiderman. 

He’s cut off by the sound of you laughing, your nimble fingers pulling your sunglasses off the tip of your nose and pulling them up to hold your hair back. 

Fuck. This is infinitely harder when you’re making direct eye contact with him, glowing eyes peering into his. 

“I know who you are, Eren.” 

“You do?” 

“Of course, I do. How could I forget the guy who spilled orange juice all over Mr. Levi - the clean freak hardass himself’s - desk? 

Eren feels his cheeks burn, embarrassment coursing through his blood as he fumbles with the camera around his neck. Great. All you remember is the time he got yelled at and sent to the principal’s office in seventh grade for being clumsy. 

It’s not his fault he spilled the fucking orange juice. You just happened to look at him right at that second, pulling your face up from your textbook, to smile at him and his hands just started sweating and it just happened. 

“Right, uh- so you like Star Wars?” 

He watches you gather your belongings - a pale green waterbottle, your solid black backpack - covered in pins and ribbons as you both head down to the courts. One pin catches his eyes - the signature spider emblem right in the middle. The “I Stand with Spiderman” pins. 

A month after he started this whole Spiderman thing, the police chief called a task-force, aimed towards arresting the “spider vigilante” that was wrecking havoc. He almost got caught, backed up into a corner during one of his first fights, but the people in the city blocked him off, giving him enough time to get away. 

It was…a whole moment. The community, the people - they love Spiderman. So much that they started a whole movement to protect him, started by a group called “The Lions.” The names corny, but they’ve protected him more times than not so…he appreciates it. And that pin - it means you’re a part of it. 

Not only are you a part of a group that supports him, but you’re the class president of the school. And he’s the editor in chief of the yearbook. And in your presidential duties, you’ve tasked him with joining you at all your club progress meetings to take pictures of each club. It’s easier to do it together so you don’t take up that much time from each club - one meeting to get all the business sorted out. 

“Huh? Oh! Because of the book. Yeah, my little brother, Falco. Really into that stuff.” 

“Does he have a favorite character?” 

“Kylo Ren.” 

“I was Kylo Ren for Halloween. Armin, Jean, and Connie were the knights.” 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Why the fuck did he just tell you that he was a nerdy fucking Star Wars character for Halloween? Did he seriously just admit that he has the same interests as your fucking eleven year old little brother? 

“That’s clever, since it sounds like your name and all. Eren - Ren. Falco and I went as Harry and Hermione.” 

“Ah. You should be Rey and Finn next year. Because you’re like….a ray?” 

He watches you turn over to look at him, eyes squinting in confusion. 

Because she’s a ray? Eren Yeager, literal fucking spider-human who can swing from literal buildings, and the best he can come up with is you’re a ray. He couldn’t even finish the sentence and say ray of sunshine? 

“If I’m a ray, than you’re a segment.” 

He laughs so hard, he snorts and it’s literally so fucking embarrassing he wants to crawl in a hole. 

Math joke. You made a math joke. Because if she’s a ray, a part of a line that has no fixed end point, then he’s a segment - a line with two distinct end points. 

Eren tries his best to concentrate, but your sweet honey voice and your soft flowery smell make it hard to pay attention. He snaps the pictures. He walks you to your car. He goes to sleep with a smile on his face. 

- 

from y/n l/n 

you: eren!!! the basketball pictures are so great. ty for all ur help :’) 

Armin, Connie, Jean, and Eren all hover their heads over the phone - lying flat on his bed spread - trying their best to write out the best response. 

This is serious. Eren’s had a crush on you since the fourth grade. And this is his chance. 

“You should tell her thank you. And that you want to get coffee with her.” 

Connie grabs Armin by the collar of his shirt, nearly strangling him in the process. 

“Are you fucking kidding, Armin? He might as well say he wants to have sex with her.” 

Eren can feel his cheeks heat up as Armin and Connie start arguing, half swatting each other on the face. Armin’s screaming into Connie’s ear, the both of them tangling on the floor now. 

“What the fuck are you on about, Connie? It’s coffee shop, not a fucking bar.” 

Eren webs the two of them off each other, giving them both a smack on the back of the head as they stop. 

“You can’t web us Eren. We’re your guys in the chair!” 

Originally, Eren had one guy in the chair. Armin. A bloody genius at all things science and technology - he couldn’t have designed his web slingers without him. Granted, he tried but they didn’t work as well. 

But then he had to tell Connie. Because Connie had an in at the fabric store, his best friend Sasha’s mom as the primary designer, and he desperately needed someone to design a suit so he could keep his identity a secret. So he told him. Because that’s the only way Sasha’s mom would agree. If her biological son basically begged her to make a suit. 

Connie’s a loudmouth. Who told Jean. Who isn’t entirely useless. Sure he’s got a pretty big fucking head, but his dad is also a cop - meaning Jean can steal their radio systems so Eren can respond to events faster than them. 

A spider gang. 

“You’re both some big fucking idiots, that’s what you are. Where the fuck were you raised, Connie? A barn?” 

Eren, Connie, and Armin immediately stop talking the second they hear the swishing sound fill the air, turning their heads to find Jean with the phone in his hands. He sent a message. 

Jean’s smirking at the three of them, shaking the phone in his hands. Eren immediately stalks over, his eyes boggling out of his fucking sockets when he reads the response. 

to y/n l/n 

eren: thanks bae! 

“Jean Kirstein. Count your fucking days.” 

He immediately webs Jean to the wall behind him, slapping across the face one time for good measure as well. 

“What gives? It’s sweet - calling back to the ray joke you told us about.” 

Jean yanks his hand off the drywall, placing the stray webs onto Eren’s bed spread. 

“The ray joke? Your dumbass literally responded with ‘thanks bae’”

Jean sits up, snatching the phone from Eren’s hands as he runs his eyes over the phone again. Jean’s face turns uncharacteristically pink, an apologetic look on his face. Eren tags him to the wall behind him, spiderwebs holding his wrists up properly to the drywall this time. 

“Touch my phone again and I’ll web you upside down from the Empire State Building next.” 

“It was autocorrect! I thought I typed ray.” 

Eren webs over Jean’s mouth to prevent him from talking any further. He plops on the floor, head in his hands. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. This can’t get any more embarrassing. First he spills that orange juice in front of you and then calls you a ray and is late to meeting with you and now sends you this fucking horrifying text? 

You’re going to block him. You’re going to block him and Eren’s going to lose his chance with you. Eren is most definitely going to hang Jean upside down from the Empire State Building. 

His phone dings in the air and the three of them - Connie, Armin, and Eren - nearly drop the phone off the fucking bed trying to read the response. Jean’s voice is muffled against the web - sounding an awful lot like “if it’s a good response, you have to set me up with Mikasa”

from y/n l/n 

you: you’re welcome sweetheart :DDD 

Armin and Connie are fucking shaking Eren by the neck, the three of them screaming in the air. Jean’s still muffling against his web, begging to find out what you responded. 

Eren ignores that embarrassing heart skip in his chest. 

 - 

“Where is it guys?” 

Eren turns up his earpiece, swinging towards the end of the buildings. He could hear the crashing as he was walking back to his apartment, decking into the alley way to suit up. 

Armin - in all of his fucking genius - created matching earpieces for the four of them to use when Eren was on sight, everyone making sure a base was covered. Armin reported on the casualty, trying his best to think of ways to use the enemies weaknesses to Eren’s advantage. 

Connie watched the security cams Jean gave him access to, finding the best access route for Eren to get in and out of places. And Jean, in all his annoyingness, kept surveillance on the fucking cops trying to arrest him at every move. 

“Rose Middle School. Apparently, it’s like some fucking superhuman female titan and she’s giant. She’s wrecking through the parks right now.” 

“On it, Armin. Jean and Connie - keep me updated on where the cops are.” 

“Make sure a flaming car hits Mr. Levi.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Jean.” 

Eren turns his ear piece down, swinging into his old middle school as he surveys the problem. 

And Lord have mercy, she is fucking giant. A chiseled titan of pure muscle, striking blue eyes and blonde hair watching him swing through the air. She’s currently demolishing the PE equipment, which he imagines can’t be too bad, given it’s centuries old. 

Maybe they’ll finally replace the pickle ball equipment with a real sport - like basketball of volleyball. Eren webs her ankles and arms together first, knocking her down to the side. 

“Hey lady. Have you ever thought about like…putting clothes on? This feels weirdly inappropriate.” 

She only roars in response, breaking open the webs around her ankles as she reaches around for him in the air. Eren swings around her, basically flying through the air, as he tags her to the tree behind her. He taps into the ear piece, waiting for a response. 

“Best idea is to leave her there for now, Eren. There’s a kid around the block, make sure he’s okay before you try again.” 

“On it, Armin.” 

He swings around the block, to find one pale, blonde haired kid - a nose stuck in his book and headphones covering his ears. Did he not just see the hoard of kids running away? Or here that female titan just scream? 

He steps down, using his webs to yank the kids headphones off as he steps down in front of him. When the kid looks up, he realizes he has a puddle full of tears in his eyes, his cheeks brazen pink. 

“Hey kid.” 

He sniffles in response, pressing his hand against his nose. 

“Hi.” 

He crouches down, holding out his hand to shake. 

“I’m Spiderman. What’s your name?” 

“Falco.” 

“Nice to meet you, Falco. Want to get out of here before that creepy little weird lady comes back?” 

“Um, yeah. But my sister is supposed to come get me.” 

“Your sister, huh? Did she say where?” 

Stupid sister. Was she really planning on getting you from here? This sister couldn’t meet him at the Starbucks across the street?

“Right here. I’m waiting for her to show up so we can leave. She said to listen to music and read my jedi book so I don’t panic.” 

Jedi Book. Sister. Falco. You. Holy fucking god, this is your little brother. The one who likes the Kylo Ren. 

Right on cue, he can feel his spider sense tingling, with you running behind him - sneakers slapping against the concrete as you sprint. You nearly knock Spiderman over as you grab Falco by the face, cupping his cheeks in your hands as you run your eyes all over him. 

Your face is all scrunched up in panic and Eren can feel his senses heightened at the sight of you, this kid, and this creepy fucking titan lady a few feet away from you. You need to leave. Now. He needs you to leave because he can’t focus if you’re here. 

“You okay, Coco? Let’s go. Right now.” 

“Okay, okay.” 

But before you can, a large crashing sound knocks the three of you to the ground, the stupid female titan standing over the breadth of the elementary school, crystal blue eyes glaring down at the three of you. Spiderman webs up first, spinning around her as he calls out to her. 

“God, lady. You should really put some clothes on. You’re flashing entire titty to a kid right now.” 

All you can do is look up in shock, the titan’s crystal blue eyes staring into yours. Your hold on Falco is nearly deathlike and you shaking Falco’s arms as hard as you can to signal him to follow you. 

You begin to pull him but feel a tug when Falco doesn’t follow. He’s crying hard - tears pouring out of his eyes as he looks down at his feet. 

“I can’t move- I-I’m scared, Y/N.” 

You reach down, pressing your hands firm against his shoulders as you squeeze. 

“This isn’t the time to be scared, Falco. You’re okay. Spiderman’s right there and he’s dealing with-” 

You look up to find Spiderman, trapped in the palm of the titan’s hand, a broken device in his hand and one splayed on the floor, not a few feet away from you. You leave Falco where he’s standing, scrambling over to inspect it. 

It’s small and rectangular - blue and red splayed all over the intricate design work. In the tiniest of handwritings, there’s a small piece of text in the corner. 

property of the spider gang bitch 

Spider Gang? That’s so fucking corny. 

You hear Spiderman yelling out at you, refocusing to your vision to him, where he’s still trapped in her hand. 

“Mind giving me my webslinger back, sweetheart?” 

“Uh- yeah. I-” 

Before you can toss it up to him, the female titan stomps straight on to the concrete, knocking you and all the nearby outposts to the ground. Your ankle is immediately trapped under the mailbox to your right, the webslinger still in your hand. 

You try your best to yank your leg out from the metal, but you can feel your ankle burning - the pressure on your leg making your chest writhe in pain. Falco runs over, his hands in your hair as his hot tears start hitting your cheeks. 

“Hey. Hey hey hey. Falco, right?” 

You both angle your head up, looking at Spiderman talking to the two of you. The titan’s still got him crushed in her hand, but she’s distracted by the sound of the police cars coming up the block. Falco’s taken a few steps forward, towards the stupid alien mutant whatever the fuck titan she is. 

“You’re a strong kid, right?” 

“Not really. I didn’t pass my physical test last week.” 

“Not strong in that way, kid. Strong in the head, the heart.” 

“Um. I don’t know, Spiderman. I’m kind of lame when it comes to stuff like this.” 

Eren racks his head. He just needs his fucking webslinger back so he can get you guys out of here. And not get arrested. And not break every bone in his body from this death grip this naked lady has on him. And to make sure you’re okay. 

“Kylo Ren. He was pretty lame when he started out too right? He had to go to the special Jedi school with Luke and kind of learn everything from the start.” 

Eren sees Falco’s eyes light up, his tears lightly subsiding as he finally meets his eyes up to look at Eren. Bingo. 

“Yeah.” 

“And then he became really, really cool because he just tried it out right?” 

“Yeah and then he became evil and got the Knights of Ren.” 

“Okay, kid. Maybe ignore that part.” 

He sees Falco laugh, the female titan squeezing him harder in his grasp as she looks around, the police helicopters, right on fucking cue, starting to surround the three of you. 

“Okay, Falco. I need you to be strong. Like Kylo Ren, right now. Your sister, she’s got my webslinger in her hand. I need you to get it and then toss it to me. Can you do that?” 

Eren watches Falco nod, turning back to grab his precious, precious web slinger and toss it up to him. He misses the first time. And then the second time. But on the third time, he aims just right, the magnetic latch sliding in and Eren webbing this stupid titan bitch right in the fucking eyes. 

He swings down, lifting the metal mailbox from your legs as he lifts you into your arms, carrying you bridal style. He looks down at you - sweat coating your forehead and your eyes blinking closed. Falco’s at his side watching expectantly, his hand in his hair. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll get you to a hospital right away, okay?” 

He watches you nod in pain, crimson red blood running down the side of your leg. 

“Spiderman. Can I come too?” 

“Kid. That’s a stupid question. Climb on my back. We’ll take Y/N to the hospital, okay?” 

He swings away as the cops close in, the female titan encasing in steam as he swings away. He taps into his earpiece. 

“Someone watch what happens. See if she escapes through the steam somehow since she’ll definitely be back. And where’s the closest hospital?” 

“King Street, Eren. Pieck should be working.” 

“Got it, Armin. Thank you.” 

He swings as fast as he can, trying to ignore Falco’s death grip on his neck and your eyes fluttering closed as he swings into Pieck’s open window. 

A special edition to the Spider Gang (unofficially, of course) - Pieck is the best fucking asset in the world. A Nurse Practitioner he once saved from getting robbed, she’s now indebted to him entirely. And she’s also his Aunt Hange’s girlfriend - not that either of them know he’s Spiderman. 

Not that he would ever ask her for anything personal, he just brings injured civilians caught in his crossfire to her so he can avoid the whole - Are you Spiderman? Do the webs come out of your holes? Can you swing me to work later? 

He swings into her office, laying you flat on the gurney in the center of the room and setting Falco down on the couch nearby. 

As soon as he settles Falco into the chair, he feels his spider sense tingle and spreads his hand behind his neck, catching the syringe Pieck threw at him before it could hit him. He turns his back, smirking at Pieck through his mask. 

“Pieck-chan.” 

“I’m calling the police, SpiderFuck.” 

“Cmon. I saved your life, you know?” 

“That was one time. You’ve almost got me fired three times over.” 

“Cmon, cmon Pieck. This girl, I know her. Just help her out, yeah? She’s really sweet, y’know that?” 

He watches Pieck divert her eyes past him, focusing on you writhing on the gurney. She sighs as she smacks Eren on the side of the head, reaching forward to attend to your leg. 

“Get out of here, SpiderAss. They’ll be circling around the building any minute.” 

Eren runs up, tackling Pieck in a hug, before she can protest and swings out the window. 

-  

You haul your black boot up the door, knocking on the door. You can see “Zoe” inscribed into the little call box, ensuring that you did find the correct apartment from the directory. You can hear a loud rustling behind the door and the door swings open. You’re met with Hange, Eren’s aunt. 

“Hi. My name is Y/N. I attend Shiganshina High School. I’m a classmate of Eren’s, I was wondering if he was here.” 

“Pieck. Pieck! THERE’S A GIRL HERE TO SEE HIM.” 

Eren’s aunt drags you in by the wrists, taking the tin of brownies in your hand and setting it on the table, as they inspect you. Their eyes are glinting with excitement as they smile at you, teetering on their ankles as they talk. 

“Do you like Eren? Oh, isn’t he just so nerdy and sweet, I just love him. Do you love him?” 

A hand comes straight into Hange’s hair, yanking them back. You follow the line of vision, seeing that the hand belongs to Pieck. The nurse that Spiderman dropped you off to. Only more proof that you’re right. 

Pieck leans straight into Hange’s frame, rolling her eyes at Hange as she starts talking to you. 

“We were starting to worry about the kid. I thought he was impotent or something.” 

“Oh! Uh, no-” 

Hange leans over into your space, grabbing you by the shoulders. 

“How do you know he’s not impotent? Oh, you two better be having safe sex or I swear to god.” 

“No! Oh, no no, I swear it’s not-” 

Hange keeps rambling to themselves as they walk around the kitchen, yanking Pieck along with them. Pieck glances to your side, mouthing the words “he’s upstairs” as you shoot her a grateful smile and you start lugging your boot up the stairs. 

You knock on the door, voices muffled on the inside as you peak in. When you swing open the door, you find Connie, Eren, Jean, and Armin in a very strange position. The four of them are clearly playing Twister - Eren’s face near Jean’s ass and Connie’s hand right near Armin’s…dick. 

“Uh. Hi guys.” 

At the sound of your voice, they all quirk their heads towards you, so shocked at your presence that they all tumble on each other. You hear Hange screaming from the bottom of the stairs, her words making your cheeks turn red. 

“Eren Yeager. You better not be having sex with that girl in my house!” 

You watch Eren tangle out of the mess, rubbing the back of his neck as he screams back at Hange, slamming the door shut. He helps Armin and Jean up, before he turns back to you - his cheeks glowing pink. 

“Hi Eren.” 

“Hi Y/N. What are you doing here? Is your leg okay?” 

You hold out the card, embellished in your sparkly pink stationery and hold it out to him. You bought him a gift card - to Joe’s, the coffee shop near the highschool. You’d seen him bring a half empty cup to class a few times and figured it would be the best gift. 

You had to thank him. Because your leg put you out of commission for a week, you hadn’t been coming to school. And he sent you all the assignments (and the answer keys) while you were out. And made sure to tell all the clubs to keep their emails to themselves until you were back. And if you’re right, he’s the one who saved your life. 

“This is for you. Thank you - for the homework and the emails. It helped a lot.” 

You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, the skin soft and warm under your lips. Jean face plants on to the floor, Connie and Armin staring at you in shock. 

“Right. I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you guys. You’re Connie, Armin, and Jean?” 

They all nod, awkwardly shaking their heads as they plant on to Eren’s futon, Eren joining them on the seat. You sit right on Eren’s bed, the sheets Jurassic Park themed, as you face them. 

Here goes. 

“I know your secret.” 

“We know yours.” 

Eren smacks Jean across the back of his head, signaling him to shut up. 

“I thought about it. Really hard when I was in the hospital. You see, I really didn’t have much to do.” 

You lay back on Eren’s bed, pin pointing each of them and what you discovered by the line they’re sitting in. Jean first. 

“You know, one of the biggest mysteries about Spiderman is how he manages to get to casualties and robberies so fast. They’re usually reported through the police department, the intercoms only going through the radio.” 

The four of them are twitching at your words, after you casually drop the word Spiderman specifically, as you continue. 

“There was a radio that went missing a few weeks ago. Police Officer Kirstein lost the intercom on his way home from his shift. It was never recovered.” 

Jean turns red at the implication, his knees shaking as he drops his eyes. You’re right. You’re right, you’re right, you’re right. Connie next. 

“And you know, Spiderman has a very cool suit. Blue and red, specially stitched and special fabric clothes. I’ve thought long and hard about who could have designed it, but really there’s only one good designer in New York. Lisa Braus.” 

You turn your eyes to Connie, whose awkwardly looking around the walls, at anywhere but you. 

“Lisa Braus is Sasha Braus’s mother. You know, I’ve heard she can be coerced really easily, she really loves her daughter. I’m sure if you, Connie, gave Sasha say - a promise of a lifetime of free lunches from your parents restaurant - she could have given in and gotten her mom to make the costume. No questions asked.” 

Connie wrings his hand around his neck, groaning as he leans back into the futon. Armin’s hands are splayed right across his thighs, surely rubbing the sweat off on his slacks. 

“And the web-slingers. Ingenious design, really. There’s only one person who beat me out at the Tech-A-Thon in ninth grade. And it was you, Armin. They have your name written all over it - the design, the metrics. Though, you’re getting kind of sloppy. From the few seconds I looked at it, I think you can pack more webs if you lay them diagonally against the hardware instead of vertically.” 

You watch the gears move in Armin’s head as he thinks over your suggestion, turning to Eren to shrug. And then you look at Eren, leaning his elbows on his knees as he looks at you. 

“And you. You’re Spiderman. That day, when you saved me and Falco. You told him to be strong, like Kylo Ren. But you don’t know Falco like that. All you know is what I’ve told you And there’s no way Spiderman could have known that - unless you were Spiderman.” 

He leans over, his green eyes glaring into yours. 

“That’s all a coincidence, Y/N. Maybe you hit your head when you fell on that mailbox.” 

You falter for a second. You can’t be wrong. You can’t be wrong because you’re sure of it. You’ve thought it over for the past few days and he has to be. He has to be Spiderman. 

“How do you know it was a mailbox? Stop lying, Eren. I know it’s you.” 

“No, you don’t-” 

Eren stands up and you join him, getting closer to him as you keep talking, trying to convince him that you know. 

“You-you took me to Pieck when I got hurt. And while Pieck is just a nurse and anyone would do it, you took me to her specifically. Because you know she’ll fix it. Not just because she’s a nurse who cares about healing people but if she tries to rat you out - you can tell her you’re Spiderman. She’ll defend you like no other because you’re basically her pseudo-kid.” 

“You’re making things up, Y/N.”

“And the earpiece. You said “got it, Armin” when you were carrying me to the hospital. I’ve looked and looked. Armin Arlert is the only Armin in Brooklyn. It’s a pretty unique name. And I know if you’re Spiderman and he’s probably the first person you told. You’ve been best friends forever and-

“Y/N. Seriously-

“No, Eren. Because Spiderman called me sweetheart! And I called you sweetheart when you called me bae and you told Pieck that you knew me and that I was a sweet girl when you thought I couldn’t hear you.” 

You place your hands on his shoulders, boring your eyes into yours as he looks at you. 

“Eren. You’re Spiderman. And I would never, ever tell anyone.” 

You watch as he drops his gaze, muttering under his breath. 

“Got me all figured out, don’t you sweetheart?” 

Eren settles back down on the couch, as Connie, Jean, and Armin start their protests. 

“Eren, you can’t just go around telling people you’re fucking Spiderman.”

“You’re a vigilante. Do you know that? Her dad is the fucking police captain who wants your head on a stick.” 

“Spider Gang is already way too big as it is. Your identity will get revealed if you keep being an idiot.” 

You clear your throat, the four of them craning their heads to look at you. You look down awkwardly at your hands as you sit back down on Eren’s bed, rustling with your keys in your pocket. 

“You guys told me a secret. I can tell you one too.” 

Jean leans forward, rolling his eyes at you.

“He just admitted he was Spiderman, sweetheart. I don’t think anything compares to that.” 

Eren brings his hand down in Jean’s hair and yanks hard. 

“Don’t call her that.” 

You yank your keys out, fumbling with them in your hands openly. 

“You guys know about “I Stand With Spiderman”?” 

Connie rolls his eyes, glaring at you. 

“Obviously. Shit’s a fucking revolution at this point.” 

“I started it. The pins and the spray art and telling everyone.” 

You watch the four of them go slack jawed, for what feels like the tenth time today, staring you down. Armin speaks first this time, standing up to run his hand through his hair. 

“You-you’re the Lions?” 

“Yeah. It’s a stupid name, but-” 

Jean cuts you off, nearly strangling you as he shakes your entire frame in his hands. 

“That’s fucking impossible. Your dad is a bigger pig than mine and there’s no way in hell his fucking daughter is the one who started the thing that protects Eren every time he’s out there.” 

“That’s just the point, Jean. I got mad at my dad. So I started it. I think Spiderman’s the best thing that happened in the community and I knew that people agreed with me. So I did what I knew how to do. Spray paint. Pins. The people.” 

Eren stands up, yanking Jean off to grab your hands and lock his fingers with yours. 

“The Lions?” 

You clear your throat, explaining. 

“Harry and Hermione are Gryffindors. And Gryffindors are lions.” 

You can feel your cheeks turn pink - from Eren staring at you so close and holding your hands and Armin smiling at the two of you in your peripheral vision. You hold your keys up, dangling them between yours and Eren’s face, your shiny little Lego Harry Potter key chain making Eren’s eyes light up. 

Eren lets go of your hands and starts rummaging through his drawers, looking for something. He pulls out a small black string. Her reaches up to push your loose hairs behind your ears, stringing the piece through your ear. 

He taps on his own ear, speaking into the mic. His voice vibrates through your, a beaming smile on his face. 

“Y/N. Welcome to Spider Gang.” 

“That’s a really corny nickname, Eren. Could you really not come up with anything better?” you laugh, smiling at him.

“Says the girl who named a fucking revolution after Harry Potter.” Jean speaks up, glaring at you as he talks. 

“Jean. Shut the fuck up.” 

“Sorry, Eren.” 

 - 

Eren’s swinging through the buildings, clutching the side of his thigh as he retreats back to his apartment. 

Stupid fucking female titan. He’s been encountering her here and there - a total of six times now and he still has yet to understand what she’s doing. 

She appears out of nowhere, in locations that have no thread of connection - the elementary school, the coffee shop on the block near the bodega, the botanical garden all the way out of Brooklyn. 

He can’t figure it out. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t talk. No matter how many times he insults her for being a naked pervert, she still doesn’t break. 

When he makes it back to his apartment, swinging into his room through the open window, he finds his spider team…down. Armin and Connie are sprawled on the ground, hair all messy and tiredness pressed on their faces as they pore over the new web-slinger designs. Jean’s on the computer, six empty cans of redbull on his desk as he pores over the footage, trying to figure out how she escaped. 

And you. You’re sprawled on Eren’s dinosaur sheets, using the DNA samples he gave you as a pillow, lightly drooling onto the results. He reaches down, lifting your head gently as he places it back down onto a real pillow, as you mumble on in your sleep. 

“Is she okay, Armin?” 

“Ah. She might be taking her Spider Gang duties a little bit too seriously than the rest of us. That and she’s more busy - she’s still doing all of her class president and internship stuff on top of this.” 

He sees you move in your sleep, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, as you focus in on your surroundings. The second you see Eren, the gash in his thigh, you jump up from the bed, scooting over to examine the gash. 

“Eren. Are you okay? You’re okay, right? Because I think I might be on to something and you can get her next time. I-I think she goes to our school or maybe-” 

Eren presses his hand to your knee as you take the seat next to him, leaning over to look at the gash. 

“Guys. Can I talk to her alone please? And get my dinner from Pieck, there’s no way I can hide this from her.” 

Armin, Connie, and Jean close the door behind him, leaving you to help Eren strip out of his suit. You’re trying your best to be gentle - pausing every time he hisses and groans in pain, lightly pulling the fabric out of the gash on his thigh. 

After it’s off, you reach for the kit Jean stole from Pieck’s room, cleaning and bandaging the wound. You try your best to not focus on the fact that Eren’s just wears his boxers under the suit and he’s just wearing his boxers right now in front of you. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi Eren.” 

“You know, you don’t have to take your Spider Gang duties so seriously. We’re all trying to figure out who she is and the bulk of it doesn’t have to fall on you.” 

“Spider Gang is a stupid name. And yes, I do. They barely spend any time thinking about it - with Jean trying to push back on all the initiatives they’re putting into stop you and Connie and Armin trying to perfect your tech so you can last longer.” 

“I last just fine. I just mean…you’re busy. Take a break, I don’t like seeing you guys all so worn out.” 

You push hard on the wound on accident, Eren groaning in pain. 

“Sorry. But we don’t like seeing you hurt Eren. You’re literally bleeding onto your futon right now and that’s not exactly a fun thing to see either.” 

He tilts his head down, his eyes in front of yours. 

“Worried about me, sweetheart?” 

You feel your cheeks burn, placing your hand in his hair to move his head out of the way. You start placing the bandages over the mark, smoothing them out with your hands. 

“Yes, Eren. Sue me. You’re fighting a crazy, perverted naked lady everyday. Arrest me if it’s so criminal to worry about you.” 

Eren laughs as he places one of his hands around your face, angling your face up so you look at him. You’re glaring at him, which Eren only returns a soft smile to. 

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m Spiderman.” 

“Yes. You’re Spiderman. Not God, Eren. You can get hurt. And you just did. And she’s crazy and-

Eren presses his hands around your waist, pulling you in his lap to sit on him. You’re careful not to rest your legs against his wound, your arms secured around his neck and his around your waist. 

“Y/N. Are you scared of her?” 

You can feel the tears burning in your eyes at the question, your heart dropping in your chest. 

“Horrified, Eren. She-she knocked that mailbox onto my leg and had you in her hand and I just-I thought she was going to crush you and then Falco next. And I dream about it all the time, and it’s just- my leg still doesn’t feel the same and it hurts and-” 

Eren tangles one of his hands around your neck, laying your face flat against his neck as he rubs small circles into your back. You’re crying - wet tears falling onto his neck as you rack sobs into his neck. 

You’re not going to get hurt. You’re not going to get hurt because he’s Spiderman and he’s going to protect you. And there’s no point in him having any of this if you feel this way. 

“You were really brave that day, Y/N. You and Falco.” 

“Just Falco, Eren. You-you made him so brave, I feel like his confidence has been better lately and-” 

“Even if you were petrified, you were still brave regardless. I’ve seen it happen - people freeze up in shock, freak out when they’re faced with things like this. But here you are, still fighting it, in the way that you can. You’re brave, sweetheart.” 

You avoid the tingling in your chest at the nickname, his hands on yours, and his sweet, sweet voice in your ears. 

He’s going to find that fucking female titan if it’s the last thing he does. 

 - 

“Armin, what the fuck happened? Why did we just lose connection?” 

The four of you - Armin, Connie, Jean, and you - are currently locked in the computer lab, six hours after the school closed. You had planned it all out, set a trap for the Female Titan underneath the school, so that Eren could catch her once and for all. 

The problem? Eren just went underground. And he had been talking to you for the last twenty minutes. But you heard it, that loud, high-pitched feminine voice and then static in all four of your earpieces. 

Armin’s smacking on his computer, Jean clicking through all the footage. All of the camera’s are still up and running, all but one on static. You stop Jean in his stead, as Armin and Connie smack on the computer, trying to fix the ear pieces. 

“Wait, wait, Jean. Where is that?” 

“Girls locker room. The volleyball team was there last.” 

You lean over to Connie, opening his computer as you log into your accounts. Jean’s leaning over your chair, both of you hovering as you log into your administrative office account. 

“What gives, Y/N?” 

“Jean. The girl, female pervert whatever. She must have transformed in there and broke the camera. Whichever girl didn’t log in for practice today, since there’s no way that girl isn’t injured from the fight she had with Eren last night, has to be the girl we’re looking for. Attendance in class but not in practice.” 

Armin, Jean, and Connie lean over your neck as you log into the account, loading the nursing record for today. And then you find it. 

Annie Leonhart has requested a medical leave of absence for the week due to an extenuating injury. She may return to regular practice next week. 

Signed Pieck Finger, N.P. 

Armin all but falls out of his chair, quickly getting up to fix the computers. 

“Shit shit shit shit shit.” 

You grab his shoulder, basically strangling him as you ask. Because why the fuck is he so worried that Annie is the fucking female pervert? 

“What’s wrong, Armin? Why are you so panicked?” 

“Annie. She suspects that Eren is Spiderman. And she…she wants to know who he is for sure, she’s told me that before. And if she puts him into a corner, she’s going to expose him to the police.” 

You feel your throat run dry as the tears start working their way up to your eyes, burning hot. No. Because they’re going to arrest Eren. Maybe even kill him and- 

Connie drops his laptop straight onto the floor, his eyes weary as he looks up at the ceiling. 

“What now, Connie?” 

“Y/N. It-it’s Friday. Meaning, they’re resetting the plumbing for the weekend and-” 

Armin speaks up next, racking his hands through his hair. 

“Oh my god. The sink waters flooding in the tunnels. He’s done for.” 

You grab Armin by the collar, the anger seething in your chest. 

“Why is he done for? What’s wrong with the water, Armin?” 

“The webs. We haven’t perfected them yet and they dissolve in water. And it’s not a big deal because it’s not raining yet but-” 

Now you get it. 

“He’s down there with no defenses. And Annie’s going to get him any second. And tell everyone who he is.” 

Jean grabs you by the shoulders, shaking your head as he fixes your hair against your ears. 

“Think. Think, Y/N. You must know something about how to turn it off - you sit through all those administrative board meetings and talk to every fucking faculty member at this school because you’re a goody two shoes. You must know something.” 

And then you remember. The only way to turn off the water is to go down there, close off the pipes manually. 

You leave the three of them in the computer leg and sprint on your bad leg, down to where you know Eren’s waiting for you.  

 - 

Connie, Armin, and Jean find you an hour later. You’re in the tunnels, where they set their trap, with a huge gash on the side of your head and a very bruised and battered Eren in your hands. You’re crying hard, your hands soft on Eren’s hands trying to will him to wake up. 

Connie and Jean loop their arms around Eren’s, prying him out of your arms to lift him out of the tunnels. Armin helps you up, supporting your bad leg. 

“What happened, Y/N?” 

“I got down here, Tried turning off all the pipes manually. Eren was still trying his best, climbing around when I got most of the pipes off. She delt a few good blows but I mentioned that I knew she’s Annie and she kind of….ran off. She wasn’t really trying to…expose him or anything but I feel like she was trying to get the tech.” 

“You okay? I know she scares you and…” 

“Yeah. I just-we have to take Eren to Pieck. We can’t fix him on our own-” 

“No. No he wouldn’t want us to.” 

“He can’t want anything if he’s dead.” 

“He’s not dead.” 

“You-you don’t know that. He’s not invincible just because he’s Spiderman, he-he’s just Eren. And he can get hurt and I don’t want him to die and-” 

Armin wordlesly agrees to take Eren to Pieck, the five of you piling into Jean’s car. Eren’s next to you, still not awake with his head slackly leaned against your shoulders. 

When you reach the apartment, Connie, Jean, and Armin task themselves with bringing Eren in as you explain to Hange and Pieck. You knock on the door, teary eyed to Hange and Pieck responding, worry in their eyes at the blood leaking down the side of your face. 

Pieck reaches forward, lifting your face in her hands which you swat off. 

“P-Pieck. H-Hange. It’s Eren and he…he’s not okay. Please just help him without asking anything, I don’t want him to die on us.”

Connie and Jean drag Eren in, lifting him onto the couch as Hange racks back sobs. You go to Hange’s side, squishing them in an embrace as Pieck gets to work, cursing under her breath as she goes on. 

“Wake up, SpiderFuck. Of course, this dumbass bothering me for the past three months is our kid. I’m going to kill you, you son of a bitch when you wake up, you know that? Stupid SpiderMotherfucker, I hate you-” 

Pieck works around him, taking Hange from your arms as she leaves the two of you in the living room when she’s done. Connie, Jean, and Armin leave you with him - already working on figuring out where Annie went upstairs. 

You take Eren’s hand in yours, squeezing tight as you whisper to him. 

“Wake up. Wake up, Eren.” 

No response. 

“Come on. You can’t be serious. You-you’re Spiderman and you don’t get hurt and-” 

No response. 

“I….I can’t be brave without you, please be okay.” 

No fucking response. You lay your forehead flat against the table as the sobs rack through you, Eren’s uneven breaths continuing on the table. 

“Please, Eren. Come back to me.” 

You feel a hand at the top of your hair, pressing down to the length of your neck. You look up to find Eren, weakly smiling at you as he winces. You sit up immediately, tears still streaming down to your neck, as you cup his face in your hands. 

“Eren.” 

“Quit crying, sweetheart. I’m Spiderman.” 

You laugh through your sobs as you press yourself against his chest, hugging him as softly as you can. You can feel his hands on your back, jaggedly circlcing into the small of your back. 

“Where are we?” 

“Your house. Pieck fixed you up and-” 

He sits up, groaning as he glares at you.

“Don’t tell me you told them that I was-” 

“I had to, Eren. I thought you were dead and-” 

“I wasn’t dead. I’m Spiderman!”

“Spiderman can die, Eren. And you didn’t fucking wake up.” 

“I heal supernaturally fast. You should have given me a minute to come to.”  

“The fact that you needed Pieck’s medical attention to come to right now, four hours after the fact, tells me that you weren’t fucking okay, Eren! And they don’t care and-” 

“You think my aunt, Hange, who watched my parents fucking die in front of me doesn’t care that I risk my fucking life on the line everyday? They fucking care!” 

“It’s not a big deal, they just want you to be okay and-” 

“And what the fuck were you doing down in the tunnel? Don’t pretend like I don’t see that fucking gash on your pretty face and I’m just ignoring it right now.” 

You can feel the anger seething in your chest and you really, really want to smack Eren right about now. 

“We figured it out. Annie Leonhart, the girl from the soccer team, she’s the pervert titan. And she’s-she’s trying to expose you as Spiderman. Or maybe not, I don’t know. And the water tunnels were on and I know your webs dissolve in water and I just-” 

“You just what? Thought you’d run down them and turn them off?” 

“Yeah, asshole. For you.” 

“You know the best part of Spider Gang. You’re the team in the chair. Do you understand what that means? You keep your ass in the chair and away from shit like this!” 

“I can’t just sit by and do that.” 

“Why the fuck not?” 

“Because I’m not Connie or Armin or Jean. I’m not just your friend who can sit by and let you get hurt. You’re-you’re not just” 

“What am I then, huh?” 

“You’re the guy I love. I can’t just fucking watch you bleed out from a tunnel and pretend it’s okay, Eren.” 

You’re both panting, chests heaving from screaming so loudly. Eren closes the space between you, pressing his lips to yours as you melt under his touch. You can taste metal - surely from the cut on his lip - but you can also taste mint, definitely from the stupid pocket he made for Altoids in his suit. He’s smiling against your lips, leaning his weight on you as you rest your forehead against his.

“Guy you love, huh?” 

“Shut up. When did you become so cocky, Eren?” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pushing your burning cheeks into his shoulder as he laughs against your ears. The next questions genuine, his voice wavering when he asks. 

“Do you only love me because I’m Spiderman, Y/N?” 

“No. I love Spiderman because he gives Eren the confidence to talk to me. You…you’ve always been so shy and stand-offish with me since we were kids, I…kind of thought you hated me. But Jean told me, you’re just really awkward.” 

“Remind me to kick Jean’s ass.” 

“And…I always liked you. You know, we really didn’t need pictures of each of the clubs. I already took those during club registration at the beginning of the year. I just wanted an excuse to be around you and I think that’s technically an abuse of power but-” 

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours once again, leaning so hard on you that you both get knocked on the couch. You’re both laughing, smiling so hard that Hange and Pieck and the rest of Spider Gang comes down to find you two giggling on the couch. 

Now that Eren’s sentient, Hange yells at him for three things. One. Being Spiderman. Two. Being a dumbass and getting hurt. Three. Attempting to have sex with this girl on the couch. 

And then they ask if Eren should be taken to a vet, since he’s technically half spider. 

The five of you corner Annie later that week. And she confesses it all - that she didn’t know when this power happened, or what came over her, or even what’s going on. And that she doesn’t want to expose Spiderman, she wanted the technology. 

She wants to know what’s wrong with her. And she figured that if she knew who Spiderman was, if she could lure him out by stealing his tech, she can find the person who makes his tech and have them help her. 

Eren extends his hand first. Promising that Spider Gang (a name that she snorts at) promises to help her figure it out and control it if she promises to not wreck havoc or drop mailboxes on your leg again. And she explains that she has no control when it comes over her, that she really doesn’t want to hurt people. 

When Armin figures it out and when Annie can control it, she’s instated as the sixth member of SpiderGang. Eighth if you count Pieck and Hange. 

And she doesn’t scare you. It’s nice to have another girl on the team. Especially one who hates “Spider Gang” as much as you. And it’s sweet to watch Armin and Annie bustle around each other, working on perfecting the tech. 

And to watch Jean and Connie tease them. And to have Eren swing you around in New York and sneak into your bed every night and save lives all around the city. 

- 

Okay. Let’s do this one last time. 

My name is Eren Jeager. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for the last six months, I’m the one and only Spiderman, equipped with a fully functional Spider Team. Officially dubbed, begrudingly, the Spider Gang. 

Connie and Jean, codenames C-Man and Horseface (since using real names got me exposed the last time) are my surveillance team. Surveying out my enemies, making sure the cops don’t get to me - they’re important reconnaissance for each mission. 

Armin and Annie, codenames Ocean Eyes and Pervert Lady (don’t ask). They’re my technical geniuses. Always redefining my tech, fixing up my webs to make them stronger, faster. There’s no Spiderman without Spidertech. 

And Y/N, codename Sweetheart. My girl in the chair. And the one in my heart too. Not only does she figure out motives/identities/locations for every villain and plan out every attack before I do it, but she’s the main reason Spiderman even exists. 

Why I fight so hard. 

I have to keep Brooklyn safe for my girl.

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch6

Description: another slow burn chapter. I did warn y’all. Don’t think Y/N /Laika can quite grasp that she isn’t a monster. She might realise eventually!! Progress with Soap and Gaz - think they might have a soft spot for her already!!

Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I eventually recover from Soap's - well - whatever the hell that was.

"Thirty minutes till we load the car and go to the Heli. Let's not keep Kate waiting" the Captain rumbles from the kitchen. I must have put him in a bad mood..

"I have nothing to pack.. should I just" - "you can help me pack, the room is a mess. Need to leave it clean and ready to be used in emergencies again" Gaz interrupts. I nod and follow him back upstairs. I seem to be doing this a lot. Just following Gaz around like a stray mutt. God, they must find me so annoying.

Gaz strides into the large room to the right hand side of the upper landing. I stop at the door. The strong scent of Alpha phermones almost knocks me back a step. I'm not usually overly bothered by scents however I put it down to the fact I've been in the facility for so long, the guards were probably taking blockers anyway. That's what I settle on to explain my new found ability.. if you can even call it that. It's because I've not been exposed to any scents.

"Just come in, we don't do the traditional 'permission to enter the nest' bullshit. We ain't exactly a traditional pack as it is" Gaz says, motioning me further into the Alpha's nest. I try not to look at the worn clothes scattered around the room. It looks so.. lived in. There are reading glasses on the bedside table. I wonder who wears reading glasses..? Two books stacked, one bookmarked, the other dog eared. I bet the dogeared one is Soap's. There is a journal on the floor with a pen resting in the central valley between pages. There is a beautiful drawing on one page, the next page is filled with messy disorganised writing which is, in a strange backwards sense, very pretty. Intruder! Intruder! Get out of their space! You don't belong here! My brain starts to shout at me.

"C'mere" Gaz stops my inner thoughts from running rampage. I obediently move towards Gaz and await instruction. Obedient little mutt, indeed. SHUT UP! I wish I could turn my brain off for a few minutes. Or longer..

"We can start with my stuff. Just check labels for names.. Are you warm enough? You'll probably want a hoodie for the ride home, right?" - "Oh uhm, are you sure you want me rooting through your belongings...?" - "You're not rooting through anything, you're helping, I asked, didn't I?" he reassures "ok, yeah.. ok.. sorry.." - "here, that's my bag" he places his bag on the large bed. The bed they all share. The pack bed.. You shouldn't be in here... QUIET! My damned brain and its self sabotaging tendencies.

I start by collecting the things that Gaz has piled in a seperate stack of all of his things. Fold, place in the bag. Fold, place in the bag, Fold, place in the bag.. it becomes quite relaxing. I enjoy the scent of his clothes wafting past my nose as I fold them. I shouldn't be enjoying it, should I.. Snap out of it.. They are literally taking me to be interrigated later today, why am I acting as if I'm welcome? Stop it, stupid girl!

I make it to the end of the pile and he claps his hands together once as the last piece of clothing gets zipped inside the bag. "Done and dusted! Here, I kept this out for you to wear on the ride back to base." He presents a navy hoodie, a Union flag on the upper sleeve, 'Sgt. K Garrick' embroidered over the chest, below a larger fonted 'SAS - TF141'. I take it from his hold. "Thank you..." I say softly. He smiles brightly at me as I pull it over my head. I must look ridiculous wearing all these clothes that are far too big for me..

*Gaz's POV*

She pulls my hoodie over her head. YES! Mission accomplished.. She will be warm *and* be covered in my scent. I shouldn't care but seeing her in my clothes again wakes something up in me. Like when she wore my jacket.. and how Johnny must have felt when she walked down this morning in his clothes. I knew he'd enjoy the sight.. led her down the stairs trying to wipe the smirk from my fuckin' face. I could see how effected Cap was from the showergel scent too. That fuckin' tobacco smell drives him mad. Could tell it caught him off guard when she turned the corner dressed in his pack Alpha's clothes and scented up to high heavens.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Gaz is looking me up and down, I shrink under his gaze, embarrassed. He definetly thinks I look ridiculous. "C'mon, love, downstairs.. looks like we are ready to. You got your hanky bandana thing?" He asks. I pat my pocket for the shape of it, before nodding, confirming that I haven't lost it. "Good, let's go then. The others will only be five minutes".

I trail after him towards the front door of the house. He holds his hand out, stopping me in my tracks. "You wait here, I'll go and check the perimeter and bring the car round to the door. You'll be alright waiting, won't you?" God he thinks I'm useless, such a burden. The floor is suddenly all too interesting. "I'll be ok" I confirm. He nods and pats my arm before turning and leaving through the door. I get a brief blast of cold air. I'm thankful that I'm no longer in my cell - the snow fell heavily last night. I'm thankful for the hoodie Gaz had let me borrow.

I flinch when two big hands suddenly grab my shoulders from behind. "What's the matter, lass? Planning your escape?" - "No - no Ky-Gaz went to get the car... I was told to stay.." - "Awkt, I'm sure he didnae mean stand and stare at the door. C'mere, come sit with me" - "I..I -"

Soap practically herds me to the sofa and directs me, by my shoulders, to sit. He sits right next to me. "Nice hoodie, you smell like one of us, eh?" he inhales, obnoxiosly loudly and groans. I resist the need to roll my eyes at his light-hearted joking, still not quite ready to leave the sad, anxious corner of the depths of my brain but the fact I was even considering must be progress though, right. It just upsets me, that every single time I feel like I could feel a tiny better, I am reminded that I don't belong here - or anywhere for that matter - and that I am following along with these deadly Alphas, like a stupid mouse right into a trap. It was inevitable.

"Where've you gone.. hey! Laika..?" I feel him tapping on my knee, trying to snap me out of it. Looking at him, with watery eyes, he practically engulfs me. "What's the matter? Tell me.." he pleads, with the softest voice I'd heard from him, right next to my ear. I just sniffle into his chest, still frozen, not reciprocating his embrace , instead, finding warmth and seclusion in his arms. I finally feel like I have some privacy, which is strange, isn't it?

"Whatever it is, it willnae go away if you bottle it up, lass. Tell me, we might be able to help.." - I lean away from him, wiping my face messily with the too-long sleeves of my - I mean Gaz's - hoodie. "I just - I am going to be interrogated.. and I've done so much, so many lives.. so much blood on my hands, all my doing.. I deserve whatever I get, but - but - I'm scared.."

"Lass, this isn't how it's going to happen. We just want to find out more about you. You've been drugged right? You've been forced into submission.. like a puppet on a string. Laswell - she's understanding of circumstances. Hell - L.T's got a few skeletons in his closet - pardon the pun" he laughs. "S'not funny" I whisper, "Look, we dinnae even know what you are going to present as when the drugs leave your system, it's illegal to alter presentations and designations without consent, so you've already got that on your side" he tries to reassure me. "I'm probably Beta.. my parents.. they were Beta's".

"The Cap said you were in there for, what, six years? fuckin' hell. So .. you're twenty six-ish then? That's awful late to be undesignated, lass. Those bastards." he rants on, I just sit quietly and listen. "What other tests and bullshit did you have done to you?" - "lost track, it'll be on my file somewhere. They recorded everything.. They changed it up when I did'nt cooperate to a satisfactory level.." - "what the fuck does that mean?" he scoffs, angrily "well, there was one mission, where I was sent to kill two cartel members.. they were a bonded pair..." my voice breaks and my eyes start to water again. "C'mon lass, you're doing so well telling me all about it.. keep going for me" he rubs my knee reassuringly.

I continue "They were a bonded pair.. I-I had lost my drugs that I was ordered to take three times a day to keep me complient. They must have been fading from my system, because I started to-to question the information I had been given. My own conciousness sort of kept fading in and out at that point. It's sort of blurry.. I- I had the shot lined up on the leader - an Alpha - and just as I was about to pull the trigger.." I stop suddenly and turn away.

"Shhh, lass, shhhh, it's ok.." - C'mon, tell him - "the trigger, a kid pulled my leg.. he needed help, he'd been caught in the fire and was all hurt and scared.. I don't know why.. I shouldn't have done it.. it was stupid of me.. I shouldn't have.." I wipe my tears again, reliving the trauma. My heart hurt. "Shouldn't have what, Lass, what did you do to the wee boy?" he asks, I swear I can hear suspicion or tentative anger in his voice.

"I got him killed. Walked him straight to his execution. Delivered him to his death.." I weep.

"whoa, whoa - what d'ya mean? You've lost me, lass. Slow down, take deep breaths, aye?"

"I - I took him and hid him under my elbow, I lined up the shot again, trying to keep the boy quiet.. but he was scared. He was so scared.. Something got in the way of the shot.. it was - was one of the guards from the facility. They'd come to finish the job, probably thought I was dead because I was late returning or something like that, but when I saw him in my scope I took the shot.."

"Good lass, you were fighting the drugs! You clever girl!" - "no- no not clever.. I tried to run back to the spot they said they'd pick me up from.. I don't know why but my brain wasn't - wasn't completely cleared from the drugs. I don't know why I thought they'd be pleased. Pleased that I'd saved the kid. All they cared about was the success of the mission. The cartel leader. And his mate, a male omega. I think he was killed.. because they were never apart but when I had my shot, it was just the Alpha.. I think - I think he saw me, when I took the shot at the guard, I swear he caught my eye as I ran.."

"Did you make it back to where you were supposed to meet?"

"Yeah, they shot the boy. Right between the eyes. It was like slowmotion. I don't remember what happened, but I woke up attached to machines and my brain went back into the controlled state again.. they developed a new drug that lasted longer, so it didn't risk running out on missions.."

"Bastards.. fucking BASTARDS" Soap rages. I look at my lap, shaking and weeping. "Pieces of shit, I'll fucking kill the lot of them slowly and" - "Johnny, that's enough!" he is interupted by a gruff voive.

I look up from my, lap my eyes widening. I obviously didn't notice the arrival of the rest of the pack. The Captain was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a reserved anger soured his face and crinkled his brow. Slightly behind him was Gaz. How hadn't I noticed Gaz come back from outside..? Then behind both of them, I see the masked Ghost, sitting on the bottom of the stairs, his elbows resting on his knees, while he cracked his knuckles.

I had just signed my death sentence. They'd heard everything. How I killed the boy.. Fuck.

FUCK!

[litrumi]

“Just a Hangout Sesh” (DayNap Unannounced AU Short Story)

-

*This little short story IS based on an AU I literally have somewhat planned but am not yet ready to release out into the wild. It’s a work in progress so all things are subject to change anyway. Regardless…

The only details you need FOR NOW: Dogday and Catnap are in their early 20s. They live in a big city. Dogday’s working at a bakery. Catnap is a gang leader. Dogday is about 5’6” (167 cm), Catnap is 6’4” (193 cm).

This short story’s being told from Catnap’s perspective, but the main AU story is most likely gonna be told through Dogday’s. If I ever get around to this.

Enjoy!

Related music/track for reading: Danganronpa V3 - Becoming Friends

-

Another slow day, another reason to see him.

I think to myself as I walk down the pavement. The sounds of the running engines of cars and buses, driving on by, fills the streets. It’s morning, after all. People have places to be.

I look up to the sky for a moment in all of its smoggy, city glory. Smells like urban life alright…

Step after step, I find myself in front of a quaint but clean shop. Its colors are so vibrant and pink that it almost looks like it’s lit up and bright, but that’s just because it’s surrounded by other drab apartment buildings and the like.

I blink at the sign up top, reading “Pick-A-Treat”. A local bakery that’s been here for a couple years by now. I never really paid attention to it until recently. But I suppose that’s how it goes when someone you’re interested in suddenly starts working there.

A small thought crosses my mind, but I quickly dismiss it after remembering how he yelled at me for even bringing in a cigarette to the shop. I hadn’t even lit it yet and he still got on my case the second he realized I was holding one. That aggressive and yet non-threatening, scolding tone… I can’t help but chuckle to myself when I think back on it.

I brush the moment aside and open the door, stepping in. I’m immediately affronted by a warm atmosphere and aromatically relaxed by the scent of fresh baked goods.

“Welcome!” I hear the familiar voice say as the door closes and rings the bell atop it that signals a new visitor entering the premises.

I look in the direction of the counter and see him. That shorty. The busy pup, with a pink apron over the front of his light pink work shirt and sporting a small, pink chef’s hat on his head, is fixing up the display shelves and making sure everything is in its proper place. Geez, so much pink with this place… At least he has dark black pants.

Finally, he turns to me, and his bright, welcoming smile… changes to that of a quick realization and an expression that wants to sigh with disappointment. “Oh, it’s just you…” He looks at me with a tinge of annoyance.

“Thanks for the warm welcome,” I reply with a smile of my own. I walk over to the small seating area they have against the wall for customers who either are waiting for their order or may want to enjoy their little treat here in the meantime.

“Do you really have to sit? I just cleaned those seats before we opened for the day,” he tells me, unamused.

“I get tired just like anyone else, Shortbread,” I smirk. “I could use a break from walking over here. Besides, I’m not dirty. I showered just this morning,” I say as I fix up the collar of my black, leather jacket and rest my hands in my black jeans pockets.

Completely ignoring what I said, and only focusing on the nickname I used, he gets angry. “Don’t call me that,” the dog pouts in reference to the jab I took at him. “Also stop referring to my height! I’ve still got time to grow! And if I grow an extra foot, I’ll be taller than you!”

Yeah, by two inches… I think to myself.

“Forget about that, I’m older than you!” He retorts.

By a month… I think again.

“Anyway, what do you want, thug?” He scoffs.

“I’m here to see you,” I smile. “Isn’t that obvious?”

He blinks at me, not swayed by my flirting. “Well, hello. You can see me,” he waves. “Now can you leave? What if a patron comes by and gets intimidated by your… edginess,” he motions to me.

“I won’t be a bother to anyone,” I answer confidently. “I’ll sit here quietly and mind my own business.”

“Really?” He asks, unsure. “You won’t bother anyone?”

“Anyone but you, Biscuits,” I wink.

He glares with his hands on his hips. “…I’m two steps away from the sharp and blunt kitchen utensils. Watch yourself, Mugshot.”

I put my hands up in the air, with a smug grin. “Guilty as charged. I surrender,” I laugh. What a cute nickname he’s picked out for me. After teasing him for the millionth time, I look around the shop and notice something. He’s the only one working right now, huh? “Hey, Dogday, where’s your boss and shy co-worker?”

“Huh? Oh,” he realizes that I’ve noticed him working all alone. “They’re running some emergency errands,” he says while kneading some dough. “Picky’s got a lot of other things she needs to take care of today, and Crafty, well…” Dogday rubs the back of his head. “She could use the day off.” He’s immediately thinking about the fact that the poor unicorn is having trouble with finishing up other things in her life that require her to speak up for herself. There’s always the chance she’s caught herself up in a whirlwind of things she can’t say no to, as well. “Anyway, it is what it is,” the pup says.

“You’re really going to handle the shop today, all by yourself?” I wonder.

“Heh,” he just chuckles. He tightens his apron and feels challenged. “What? You think I don’t have what it takes? Oh, Catnap…” he clicks his tongue and wags his finger. “I could run this place with my eyes closed!” He announces proudly.

I eye him, up and down. “Bold statement, coming from you,” I remark. Three, two, one…

He sees how I glanced at him and his face heats up. “I- I’ll show you, you good for nothing delinquent! Just sit back and watch this canine run the whole show! Flawlessly!” He gets fired up.

There we go. Much better. I didn’t even have to convince him to let me stay.

Sooner rather than later, customers do come in eventually. Dogday’s demeanor switches up instantaneously to a cheery and enthusiastic worker with a principle for customer satisfaction. That part of him seems very effortless and easy to do. Maybe he just takes all work given to him seriously… I begin to wonder.

With me, he’d certainly rather shout at me or ignore me. But he’s pretty professional and upbeat when he’s not talking to me. I like that about him… Not many have what it takes to yell at the leader of the number one gang in the city.

But I guess he should know by now that I wouldn’t let anyone other than him act this way around me. I relax back more into the chair and rest the back of my head against my arms, behind me. I could never be mad at him… Not after what he did. I owe him that much.

When the most recent customer leaves and we have a moment to chat again, Dogday wipes some sweat from his forehead and relaxes a bit. As soon as I see him ready to take a small break, I decide to flip the switch back to playful mode.

“So nice to every customer in here…” I sigh as if I’m sad. “Everyone but me…”

He looks at me with slight irritation. “Tell me, when was the last time you bought anything here?”

“You gave me those tasty cookies just the other day!”

“For free!” He crosses his arms. “Just so you would shut up about wanting to try some of our baked treats!”

I hum and muse on the argument. “Aww,” I tease. “You do care. I didn’t know they were free,” I grin.

“I’m ready to change my mind about that,” his eyebrow twitches.

“Sure, I can arrange some quick cash,” I comply. “Just let me go find some money for ya and I’ll be back in five minutes,” I tell him.

“No blood money!” He scolds me. “I’m not letting you pay us with your filthy, gang obtained riches! Work hard and earn it the right way!”

I let out a sigh. “Alright, fine,” I concede. “Then I’ll pay ya back in a couple of weeks or something.” A stickler for the rules…

“Thank you,” he nods, satisfied with the terms of the agreement.

“Who baked them, anyway?” I decide to ask.

But once I ask that question, his behavior changes a little bit. He looks off to the ground, then to the side, before looking back at me with a shy but trying to look tough expression. A little redness is ever so present on his cheeks. “…Someone here at the bakery, obviously…” Was all he said on the matter.

Someone, huh? I feel a little warmth in my chest.

“Anyway, you almost done? I’ve been waiting for hours now,” I inform him.

“Huh?” He looks confused. “Actually… wait a sec, you really have been here for a while. What gives? Do you need something?” He begins to tidy up some of the supplies around him.

“Duh,” I roll my eyes. “I’m waiting for your shift to be over.” I then put on a charming smile for him. “We’re going on a date when you’re done.”

The room is silent for all of three seconds.

The dog takes in the information and then suddenly it was like a steaming kettle set off. “A- A date?!” He spouts out, flabbergasted. “What date?! W- Who said anything about a date?!”

I look around and see that no one else is here. “I did, about five seconds ago,” I point to myself.

“B- But who agreed to that?!?! I certainly didn’t!” He’s super red in the face now.

I put a finger to my chin for a moment and ponder. “Hmm… Oh,” I remember. “Must’ve forgot to tell you yesterday, my bad,” I grin.

“How convenient!” He groans, sweating bullets.

I smirk, enjoying the spectacle he’s putting on.

“Seriously, a date…” the pup begins to quietly talk to himself to sort out the situation. “Of all the…” He huffs under his breath.

Why is it so much fun to mess with him?

“Well?” I shrug. “We gonna go on that date after your shift or do you wanna go on it tomorrow?”

“Why are those my only two options?!” He sighs.

He turns his back to me and seems like he’s thinking really hard about it. He’s mulling it over so much that I just look at him, feeling pleased and entertained a little. But really… I’m kind of happy that he’s genuinely thinking so hard about this.

Eventually, he turns back around, takes a deep breath, and looks at me seriously. “Ugh… Fine. We can hangout after I finish work, but that’s all! We’re just hanging out!” He tacks on that disclaimer, flustered. “And please don’t do anything that’ll draw attention to us.”

I salute to him with a stupid look on my face. “Whatever you say, Shortstack.”

Immediately, he throws an oven mitt at me. “I’ll make you part of the next recipe, Thugzilla! Don’t patronize me!”

What a feisty pup…

No wonder he’s so cute. I feel my heartbeat quicken a little.

Time goes by, and more customers come in, get their orders, and leave. All I can do is stare at the clock on the wall, listen to its ticking noises, and watch Dogday work out of the corner of my eye.

What exactly should we do? I start to consider. There’s really nowhere we can’t go. No one has enough of a lack of brain cells to say no to me. But that’s not the real issue, I guess. What… does he like? I know what I like, but I honestly don’t know that much more about him. And if we just do the things I want, there’s no way he’d enjoy it.

Running through a million different things in my head, I can’t really pick anything in particular.

I glance over to him and see that he’s not busy chatting with any customers again. “Say, what kind of things do you like?” I ask him outright.

He stops what he’s doing to look at me. “Huh? What… I like?” He rests his head in the palm of his hand and looks up at the ceiling. “Kind of a tough question, but let me think…” His eyes just wander around as they please.

As I watch him turn the wheels in his head, I try to think how someone as normal as him might feel.

“Well, I guess I don’t mind the occasional stroll in the park or… a movie or… stargazing and stuff…” He answers.

“Those are your favorite things?” I question.

“No, not my… favorite, per se,” he rubs the back of his head. “To be honest, I just don’t have a favorite anything. I’m pretty okay with whatever.” He nods.

“Whatever, huh?” I repeat. “So… you wanna go start a fight with the other local territories and get back some stuff they stole from random people?”

He gives me a deadpan expression and doesn’t bother saying a single word.

“I’m just kidding,” I chuckle. “Well, if it’s totally up to me then…” I adjust my position in the chair and face him fully. “The train station.”

“What?” He curiously asks.

“The train station. Let’s just sit at the train platform and stick around until the sun sets,” it was an easy answer for me all along.

“That’s… the big plan you have for us hanging out?” He crosses his arms.

“C’mon, it’ll be a calm and peaceful time. Just watching the train pull up and leave with people. And when the train leaves, you get to see nothing but some nice open background scenery. Pretty cool stuff, if you ask me,” I tell him.

“You’re not suggesting this because of what I think you mean, right…?” He wonders, a little sadly.

“And if I am?” I reply.

He looks at me with a little unease and worry. He then looks down at the ground for a moment. “You don’t… need to keep thinking about that moment, you know? It’s not that big of a deal, really…”

“It was and still is a big deal to me,” I state. “I hear you loud and clear. But the truth is, it’s more important than you think. So do this little thing for me, ‘kay?” I smile. “I just want to spend some time with you.”

He’s silent because he just doesn’t know how to process it all. He’s not mad or upset at anything, but I can tell he’s a little taken back by remembering that moment. Our first time meeting. Something like that was just a passing moment to him, but for me, it was so much more.

“A- Alright,” he doesn’t put up a fuss. He just agrees and holds his arm.

I can tell that he feels a little tense. The atmosphere did drop a bit there, after all. But I feel a small weight lift off my shoulders from being able to tell him that much. I’m glad you’re here, Dogday…

“Now enough mush,” I interrupt to bring back the regular mood. “Can I get some more cookies or what?”

He looks up at me and quickly gets back to his old self. “Depends,” he starts. “Where’s the payment for the last batch?”

“I’ll take an advance on the cookies and you’ll see the money in a few weeks,” I slyly reply.

“Not how it works…” The dog sighs.

The routine continues on with me teasing him and him getting annoyed at my presence. But finally, his work day begins to come to a close. He cleans up and checks that everything is as it should be. I just stay out of the way, since I know he’d appreciate that.

“Hey, I just need a few minutes when we leave,” he tells me. “I just wanna run home, change, and then we can go. Won’t take long.”

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “Do I finally get to see the inside of your apartment?” I cheekily ask.

He’s totally done with me at this point. “Absolutely not,” he says with his teeth gritted.

“Fair enough,” I laugh.

Somebody stop him. He’s too adorable.

With that, we leave the bakery as he turns off the lights and remembers to lock up the shop.

I tell him that I’ll wait right here while he goes and pampers himself up for the date. Being the good guy that he is, I can still tell he’s restraining himself from using a rude gesture as he sprints off to get ready.

Now I’m left here waiting, with just me and my thoughts.

I find myself looking up at the still smoggy skies again.

Things are turning out better than I thought…

But I know it’s not because of anything special that I’m doing.

That’s just what it’s like having someone like him by your side. Hard to believe he moved here only about a month ago, now. I can only be thankful that I ever ran into him in the first place.

In fact, it’s nothing short of a miracle…

A miracle… for us both.

I just know it.

—

I needed some practice to get out of this writing funk I’m in. Being sick for a month sure drains motivation. So honestly I definitely had to use this.

Still, I was actually thinking that this could potentially be a two parter. I did “somewhat” feel like writing the other half of this or basically the actual “hanging out” portion too, but I dunno. Just gonna be a moment of intrigue. We’ll see.

Anyway, it also was a little preview of some other AU stuff I got in the brain. That’s all!

Take careeee!

-

[octoberobserver]

The Comforting Detective - Sherlock & Co. Fic

(Read on ao3 here)

“No! No, plea—help! Please! Somebody hel—”

“...tson. Watson! JOHN!”

John shot up, his eyes bursting open, his whole world tilting on its axis.

A strong hand gripped his shoulder, stopping him from toppling off the…?

“Why’m’I on the couch?” he mumbled, his vision swimming as the chaotic sounds of gunfire and screaming still echoed in his ears.

“Because we fell asleep on it after getting back from the pub,” Sherlock replied, tone tired and still a little tipsy. “Your shoulder makes a surprisingly comfortable, sentient pillow, Watson.”

“Hm. Thanks,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair as he felt Sherlock shift against him. “You wanna sit up, mate? This couch can’t be good for your back. I know mine is bloody killing me.”

“Can’t. Trapped.”

John frowned, turning around to gape down at him.

“What do you mean you’re—o-oh my God.”

A snort of laughter escaped him as his bleary eyes fell on Archie, who was sprawled right across Sherlock’s midriff, fast asleep and snoring loudly.

“Looks like you make a pretty good sentient pillow yourself, Sherlock,” he teased, groggily digging around in his pocket for his phone.

“Don’t you dare.”

“What?”

“Don’t you dare take a picture, Watson. I can see, even in my post-inebriated state, those cogs turning in that little brain of yours.”

“My brain isn’t little.”

“No, it’s perfectly average-sized for an adult male,” Sherlock waved his free hand, the other holding Archie in place. “But I can still see you scheming. Stop it.”

John half-heartedly dropped his phone back into his pocket, grumbling, “Fine. Spoilsport,” but firmly snapping a mental image of his flatmate and dog cuddling for him to chuckle at later.

The soft ‘tick tock’ of the clock on the mantelpiece, with the accompaniment of Archie’s not-so-soft snores, was all that sounded throughout the room for several beats. Until…

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The tears currently drying on John’s cheeks were enough for both of them to know what Sherlock was referring to.

He cleared his throat, trying (and probably failing) to subtly wipe at the corner of his right eye.

“Not really.”

“Okay,” he felt Sherlock shift again, the back of his forearm resting against John’s knee. “The offer to hold my hand still stands, though.”

He looked down at the narrow palm and long, bony fingers pressing against his jeans, and a familiar (if a little confusing) ache rose within him.

“Thank you,” he replied, his breath a touch uneven as he let his hand fall down on top of his.

Slowly and slightly awkwardly, Sherlock’s fingers closed around his and squeezed gently.

“Hm,” he murmured. “One more thing, Watson. Your equipment was still recording when we got back to the flat. So you may want to go in and edit out all of our…drunken ramblings and…everything that followed. Not sure the listeners would find that very enthralling.”

John thought the listeners would find that a lot more than very enthralling if the constant tweets, posts and emails speculating about the progression of their relationship were anything to go by. But he smartly kept that to himself.

“You’re a good friend, Sherlock,” he smiled softly, squeezing his hand back and feeling his once hammering heart beginning to slow.

He had said the ‘F’ word again. The good one. It wasn’t the first time he had referred to him as more than just his flatmate, but he could tell the detective was still surprised nonetheless.

“You too…John.”

With their hands clasped together (something John couldn’t find in him to be self-conscious about), another quiet enveloped them, even more comfortable than the last, until Archie let out a particularly loud snore that had them both chuckling. Sherlock’s entire body shook with it, despite his efforts not to rouse the dog.

“I wonder what dogs dream about,” John managed to ponder through his laughs, a fond warmth flowing through him. “Chasing squirrels or pissing against lamposts, probably. Not warzones or other traumatic things, I hope.”

Sherlock made a humming noise, his thumb brushing John’s pinky finger.

“Experts wager that they do have their own version of nightmares,” he mumbled, his face angled towards Archie, no doubt analysing him. “Fear of abandonment, a time when they fought with another dog, being caught in a thunderstorm, those sorts of things.”

John let that sink in, his index finger resting on Sherlock’s knuckle.

“And what do these experts say help rid our dogs of bad dreams?”

“Comfort from their loved one,” Sherlock answered easily, his tone laced with something John couldn’t decipher as he watched him begin to pet Archie’s head. “A good cuddle should have them back to dreaming about squirrels and lamposts in no time. Apparently. If the studies hold any water.”

“Huh,” John said almost to himself, remembering with vivid clarity the hugging machine and was troubled not for the first time at the thought that that was all he had had for comfort until John and Mariana came along. “So they need comfort, then. Hugs and cuddles and holding hands. Like people.”

“Yeah, like some people. However, they do lack opposable thumbs, Watson. So, ‘holding hands’ is—”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Smarty Pants, you know what I mean,” he cut across him, grinning and rolling his eyes simultaneously, something which he did with startling frequency since meeting Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective.

His heart rate was finally back to normal.

“You know what else works wonders for comfort?” he asked, feeling much more himself again as his eyes landed on the clock.

7:04 am.

“What’s that, Doctor?”

“Good food,” he squeezed his hand one last time before gently extracting himself and standing up, calling over his shoulder, “Archie! Breakfast!”

Predictably, the dog shot awake, jumping down from Sherlock’s stomach with force.

“Oof! Ar…chie!” he scolded, winded from the blow. “B-Bloody dog!”

Another laugh escaped John as he made his way into the kitchen, untangling his recording equipment as he went, noticing the flashing low-battery light on his microphone and finally switching it off.

It was just a quiet, hungover breakfast with his friend and his dog. The listeners could wait.

Some things were just for them.

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xxxviii // All Saints Are Sinners

Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

A note is played as a sensor detects that the front door has been pushed open. Low tiks, faint against the loudspeaker muzak, as the soles of his shoes dislodge from sticky stains on the white tiled floor. The ambient hum of fluorescent lights, of the air conditioning, of the coolers scattered all around. Gas stations all have that hum.

He makes for the drink aisle with a laziness to his step, loose straps from his backpack tapping at his chest and arms, eyes unenthusiastically scanning through foggy glass doors. Most of the options strike him as entirely unappealing, while some – chocolate milk, protein shakes, yoghurt – make him nauseous to even consider.

Renee hasn’t been high for a full day. He noticed it on waking up, and it’s only getting worse. That lethargy, the grey filter that slides down across his vision. Drowsiness that expresses itself clearly in the way he moves, as if his body will only operate in slow-motion. Boredom exacerbated, but juxtaposed with revolt at the mere thought of actually doing something about it. The hollowness of all the things which normally feel so vivid. His mood, seeping down through the concrete and the dirt.

When Lazarus dropped him off by his car this morning, Renee talked him into a quick deal before they parted, just fifty grams. The look of concern on Lazarus’ face, the begrudging acceptance, sparked a shame in Renee that’s hard to just brush off. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t cracked open that bag yet - because punishing himself with cocaine withdrawals seems more appropriate. Is that irrational? Probably. But what isn’t?

Goosebumps break out across his arms when he opens the cooler and is rushed with a front of cold air. He picks out a couple different energy drinks. As he makes his way back through the store, he grabs a small container of nuts, as well as a handful of protein bars, haphazardly discarding his pile of items on the counter. He’s pretty sure he’s forgetting something, but his mind is hazy, and he can’t really bring himself to care.

The cashier, a girl who doesn’t look much older than twenty, gives him a nod in place of a proper greeting, and starts scanning his items. Renee watches her progress, rubbing his eyes, and then his gaze thoughtlessly drifts to the magazine rack next to the counter. Among celebrity gossip and headlines that fill half the front pages, he catches an image of Conrad – that vacation photo the media always uses, taken on some pedestrian road with palm trees in the background. A black person’s arm – Howard’s, presumably - is draped over his shoulders, but their face is cropped out of frame. Conrad looks at ease in that photo, at least more at ease than Renee has ever seen him in person. There’s still an awkwardness to his posture, he clearly doesn’t like having his picture taken; but his smile looks genuine. Next to the picture of Conrad is a stock photo of a man’s silhouette illuminated from above, face obscured in the shadows cast by a hoodie.

Renee swallows, looking away before he can read the actual headline. Behind him, the door chime goes again, and he hears someone walk up behind him. A deep breath, then he clears his throat at the cashier. “Uh. Give me four packs of Marlboro reds as well.”

 The girl looks up. “Do you have an ID I could see for that?”

Renee blinks. Gives the cashier a look.

“We check everybody, sir.”

Renee lets out a dejected sort of breath, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, and fishes around in his pocket for his wallet. “Driver’s license alright?”

The girl gives him a patient smile. “Just something with your face on it.”

He holds the card out between two fingers, and can’t help but curse himself at the way his hand is shaking slightly. The girl doesn’t comment on it, though, eyes quickly scanning the card before she nods and turns to the shelves behind her.

As he pays credit and shovels his items into his backpack, Renee feels watched, in a way that’s more than a little intrusive, by the cashier, by the customer behind him, by the camera above the counter, by Conrad, grinning from a tabloid shelf. He shrugs the backpack on, pushing past the customer behind him and heads for the door before the cashier is even halfway through wishing him a good day.

Grey clouds swirl like a layer of cotton above the landscape, too light to threaten rain, but none the less suffocating. The wind blows across the concrete field surrounding the gas station, biting at his skin through the seams of his clothes. Would’ve ruffled his hair a week ago – now the lack makes him shudder more easily. He climbs into the Clio, discarding his backpack on the passenger seat, pulls a cigarette and lights it. He takes the first few drags in silence, listening to how the wind swirls around the car, feeling its miniscule tugs on the carrosserie.

It’s such a cliché, framing the bad guy as a menacing figure cloaked in shadows. Something about that image alone feels like a caricature that serves only the purpose of dehumanizing, othering. People always strip away the understandable parts of evil to avoid having to face it in themselves. They shut their eyes to swallow that pill.

A turn of the keys, and the Clio rustles itself awake. The sound of the old motor is starting to become more reminiscent of a tractor than a car. Cigarette burning between his fingers, Renee pulls out to the gas station’s exit ramp, back onto the highway. He loses himself in driving. Everything else becomes secondary to following his own flow, the mindless weaving in and out of lanes.

But he hasn’t been on the highway for more than five minutes before a loud beep from the dashboard makes him look down. The little light next to the gas indicator has turned on. The needle is deep in the red.

Renee lets out a groan, gritting his teeth tight, clutching the wheel a little harder. “Shit.” He fiddles with the different settings on the turn signal lever, barely keeping the car in the center of his lane as he tries to find the setting that lets him see how many miles he has left. How do you go to a gas station and then forget to get gas?

A couple minutes of fiddling with the lever pass, until he finally gives up. There are no gas stations until he reaches the summer home neighborhood, and the highway is separated by a fenced off median strip, so no U-turns, either. He’s just gonna have to cross his fingers and hope.

His teeth are gritted until he finally reaches his exit, somewhat relieved that if he does get stranded, at least it won’t be on the side of the highway. There’s a red light at the end of the exit ramp, and he cringes at having to rev up the car in first gear to avoid stalling on the incline.

The country road he turns onto is deserted, fields on either side all rows of plowed mud, interspersed with patches of skeletonized trees. Isolated homesteads placed a respectable distance from the road, and the occasional faded colors of a billboard advertising private insurance or heavy farming equipment.

He's a mile in when the dashboard beeps again, and soon after, the car starts to slow down. Renee curses, changing to a lower gear, which seems to work for all of ten seconds, but then it slows again, even as the pedal is pushed to its limit. The tractor-esque likeness of the sound seems to amplify as the engine struggles to keep up. Eventually, it coughs, lets out a spluttery death rattle, and then stalls completely.

Still rolling with the momentum, Renee stomps down the clutch and switches the ignition off and tries to restart it. Uncertain whirring, in a rhythm that makes the whole cabin vibrate, but it never takes. The car creeps to a halt on the side of the road. Renee tries again. And again. On his fourth try, the engine doesn’t even try to stir – nothing happens at all.

Renee pulls the handbrake and sits back, rubbing his face with both hands, pressing his fingers hard over the thin skin of his closed eyelids. Feels like letting out a scream, but all that comes out is a low groan. He sits like that for a full minute, breathing through his nose. Then he lets his hands dump into his lap, staring bleakly out the windshield.

In the distance, a row of trees parting two fields are being pushed sideways by a rough wind, the last stubborn leaves breaking off, dancing across the horizon.

Renee looks at his backpack, jaw working. Grabs it, finds leverage with both thumbs in a small hole by the zipper and forces it apart by pulling on the fabric. From one of the smaller rooms, he pulls out the bag of cocaine, from another, his wallet. Discards the backpack on the passenger side floor with a little more force than necessary. He fishes his phone out of his wallet and balances it flat on his thigh. Nudges a few clumps of powder onto the screen. It’s all automatic at this point, he doesn’t even have to think about what he’s doing. The clumps are broken with a credit card, and two lines are arranged side by side along the length of the phone screen. His hands are shaking as he rolls a five dollar bill into a straw.

He pauses. Feels like throwing up. Feels like strangling himself with the seatbelt. Feels like bashing someone’s skull in. Feels like...

Closing one nostril with his index finger, holding the bill carefully between thumb and middle finger, Renee lifts the phone up, leans down. It’s a familiar feeling, however gross it felt the first time he tried. Like sucking powdered sugar straight into your brain. It appears at the back of the throat, and then you have to swallow it, despite the bitter taste, like you swallow the clots of a heavy nosebleed. Renee leans back, sniffing hard as he rubs his nose, letting out each breath through his mouth. Leans down for the second line, which goes up just as easily, sniffs some more. His throat is already starting to tingle. He licks the remaining powder off the phone, drying the saliva in his jeans.

Slightly breathless, he slumps back against the seat, hand clutched around his phone. Hits the back of his head against the headrest a couple times, scowling at nothing. Stalling won’t do him any good. He grits his teeth as he unlocks the screen, filtering through contacts until he finds Davin’s number. Rests his elbow on the ledge under the side window, leaning his temple against the root of his hand, lifts the phone to his ear.

The low dial tone, dragging across the ground once, twice, before there’s a click, a muted shuffling. Renee bounces his heel against the floormat.

There’s a faint thud, like a door closing, before Davin speaks. “Yeah?”

“My car broke down,” Renee says. Winces, but keeps his voice even. “I ran out of gas, I mean. I just need a hand.”

There’s a brief silence, and then Davin lets out a sharp sort of sigh. “How do you expect me to…?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Renee bites, “Figure something out. I mean it, man, I’m stuck in the middle of… piss-all nowhere.”

Davin lets out an exasperated breath. “I don’t have a car, Renee.”

“Then find one. I’m not walking four fuckin’ hours.”

Another silence, longer this time. A deep breath. “Alright. Send me your coordinates, then.”

Renee sniffs. “Shall do.”

A split second after he has ended the call, Renee tosses the phone onto the dashboard, leaning forward, running his hands over his head. Why’s it taking so long to kick in, anyway? Two lines usually get his heart beating in no time. He’s not that tolerant, is he?

Seeping through the dirt, like the roots of a tree clawing to get a proper hold of the earth, or the fluid that leaks out of a decomposing coffin. It strikes Renee as a natural law of sorts. Gravity, but not in the physical sense.  

They see him like an alien, a stereotype. They attribute his actions to something inhuman and foreign, something unrecognizable. A nightmare, a monster. A hooded figure in the dark. Evil as something extraordinary.

It’s actually pissing him off, how delusional people choose to be. The mental gymnastics they have to employ to stay blind. While Conrad sees the good in all people, Renee sees the spiteful, the malicious, the selfishness everybody tries so damn hard to deny. He sees the egocentric note that carries every act of altruism, the spite and jealousy that accompanies every form of love. Ambition is a euphemism for greed, justice always stems from a sense of superiority. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is holy. Once you start digging past the surface, the only direction you can go is down.

Despite the lightness of the clouds, a few small specs of rain have scattered on the windshield. Renee lights another smoke, watching it slowly collect and bleed down the glass. Something inside him is returning, he can feel it. It’s been hell for a while, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe Conrad got his claws into him after all. That naïveté played tricks, in its own subtle, insidious ways. Renee forgot himself in a moment of weakness, and he ended up sharing the delusion. But evil is universal to the point of banality. Despite Conrad’s insistence, there’s nothing extraordinary about what Renee has done, or about his drives. Renee only stands out for honesty.

Davin’s greed is blatant. As is Lazarus’ willful negligence, entirely unjustified despite his efforts to deal conscientiously. Even Conrad himself, so keen to keep up a façade of innocence, gets that hateful look in his eyes, and his attempts to humanize himself occasionally get marred by a vengeful, sadistic desire.

A gun or a knife, hm? Or something else…?

Gun.

Where? …Where would you shoot me?

Head.

That’s the thing: You have to own it, don’t you?

Renee chuckles lightly to himself. Leans back against the headrest, eyes closed. Maybe it’s the coke creeping in, but it feels like a veil has been lifted.

The man he was six months ago, before all of this, before he even met Davin, is still in there. Renee can feel him. That carefree, fuck-all attitude, the easy way he carried himself, the deep sense of independence, remorseless freedom. His head got clouded by the fog of uncertainty, but he can lift himself out of it easily enough. It’s all so straightforward.

You just have to own it.

💵

Thirty minutes pass. The peak of the high, Renee spends pacing for a hundred yards up and down the country road, wind chill biting at his face, but muted under the familiar sense of euphoria. Once it starts to dip, around the forty-five minute mark, he climbs back into his car and chases with another line, smaller this time, nothing crazy. Sits with his knee bumping against the steering wheel, hands kept warm in his pockets, just enjoying the sensations of being, for a while. The way his heart beats, the way the air feels in his lungs, the numbness of his throat, the back of his tongue. He feels as easy and light as he does resilient, self-assured. Exquisitely fucked up and powerful. He feels like himself.

He sees the car coming from a mile away. A small, dark dot on the horizon that slowly rides the waves of the landscape. A sedan. Renee recognizes the typical design of a Mercedes long before he can make out the logo on the front grill – something about pareidolia, the expressions that cars make. Mercedes always look vaguely pissed off. As it pulls up on the opposite side of the road, Renee can’t help but marvel a bit. No scratches or dents in the warm gray lacquer, shiny wheel rims, tinted windows in the back. The kind of car you can tell has leather seats before you even take a look inside.

Bracing his door against the impact of the wind, Renee steps out on the road in the same moment Davin does. The few strands of hair that aren’t caught in the bun on the back of Davin’s head are instead whipped about his face. The collar of his coat is turned up.

Renee lights a smoke, then points to the Mercedes with the cigarette. “I didn’t think you could hotwire cars that new.”

As Davin shuts the door, he looks at the car briefly. “You can’t,” he concedes. And he holds up his hand, wiggling a key between his fingers.

Renee frowns. “It’s yours?”

“It’s a rental. For now, at least. You reminded me why it might be a good idea to have a second car available.”

He walks toward the back of the car and pops the trunk open, pulls out a red gas canister and a funnel. Hands both to Renee, who, much to his own quiet dismay, has to throw the fresh cigarette away before he takes them.

As he fumbles with the gas cap on the Clio and sets up the funnel, Davin stands a few paces away, watching. Renee can’t help his stomach from churning at that feeling, as if every movement he makes is being noted, jotted down. The stench of gasoline fumes soon serve as a distraction, as he pours the clear, yellowish liquid down the funnel. “Listen, I, ah…” He clears his throat. “I had a bit of a mental breakdown yesterday. After I left, I mean.”

He glances up at Davin, who has only raised a brow in response.

“I don’t really know what happened, it’s just… been a crazy couple weeks, you know? I think it’s been building. But it’s all good, I’m fine now.”

Davin snorts, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. Looks into the distance for a moment, lips pursed. When he looks back at Renee, his expression is solemn. “I couldn’t have done this alone. So as much as I hate having to rely on other people, I have to rely on you. I have to be able to trust you.”

Renee grimaces. “You can,” he says. “You can, dude. I just freaked out a bit, but I’m back in business, I’m feeling it. I’ll do whatever.” 

 Davin nods slowly. Markedly doesn’t say anything.

For once, the ominous silence doesn’t really bother Renee, at least not to any greater extent. Although brief, he said his piece, so now it’s no longer on him.

The last few drops of gasoline are shaken off the canister, then the funnel. Renee screws the cap back in place, handing canister and funnel to Davin before he ducks into the passenger seat of the Clio, without shutting the door.

On the first turn of the key, the engine rustles awake.

Renee shoots a wide grin up at Davin. “We’re so back, baby.”

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[sserpente]

Let’s talk about Loki | S2 Episode 2! 😍

*takes a deep breath* HEAVY SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 2 OF LOKI!

Is it just me or is it hot in here? Not just me? Oh, good. I mean, honestly… that shadow scene was fan service. And trust me when I say that this will continue to make appearances in my future Imagines. Good gods… that suit and those green glowing eyes? Um, yes, please?! 🥵

Well… and on that note—you don’t mess with Loki. I told you X5 or Braaad (you got to say his name like you’re drunk) was gonna be trouble. Still hate him. He’s the type of douchebag who has no purpose when being bad. Blergh. He deserved Loki’s mischief. Also, can we please talk about how Loki was towering over him? That dark, purry and slow voice?! It would have worked on me… or I would have pounced on him and kissed him senseless… one of the two. Probably both at the same time.

Now I can also, finally, say what I’ve been meaning to say since last week but I couldn’t because of spoilers—I am so FREAKING MAD at Sylvie! Look… I know that in her mind, it was Loki who messed up. She thought he was gonna help her kill He Who Remains and he didn’t. Okay, fair enough. But it baffles me how she seems to think that Loki screwed things up when she was the literal cause of all this chaos and the one who kissed him and then dumped him through a time door. Literally and figuratively.

The fact that she thinks she’s happy… working at a McDonald’s on a branched timeline in the 80s… please. She finally has freedom and she’s doing this out of spite but this isn’t the life she truly wants, we all know that. I think she’s overwhelmed and she doesn’t know what to do with her feelings now that she’s killed He Who Remains. It didn’t give her the type of satisfaction that she wanted and if you think about it, she made it her life mission to bring down the TVA. Now that that’s done, more or less (she did realise after all that all those branches mean the TVA won’t go away properly) she’s a bit clueless and it shows. She’s gonna have to come around of course eventually… I mean, plot and story progression, after all, buuuut still—she’s gonna have to make up big time if she wants me to forgive her. She hurt him. That’s practically unforgivable. And on that note, I know there are Sylki shippers here reading this but every time I see these two together, they give me sibling energy. Soooorry, I can’t help it! 😂

So now the branched timelines are gone—for now, leaving only the Sacred Timeline, more or less—for now. There’s gonna be new branches again, of course. Something came to my mind the second time I watched it today though… didn’t they say in Season 1 that once a timeline reaches the red line, it can no longer be controlled by the TVA? Did I miss something here, was that a lie made up by He Who Remains so they’d take care of branched timelines as soon as possible? Because if it was true then how did they prune those timelines? Almost all of them were way past the red line! Or maybe this will have different types of consequences later on? Who knows!

That key lime pie tastes as good as it looks, by the way. So let’s talk about Loki’s and Mobius’ conversation while they were having a slice. I already read a few comments today and saw that a lot of people were missing the fact that Loki failed to mention that he was mind-controlled by Thanos when he attacked New York. I agree—it could have been thematised more but then again… I still think it was. Hear me out:

We know that the sceptre was influencing Loki—but not in the way he was using it to influence others. The sceptre/mind stone brought out the worst of Loki’s emotions and intensified them—in this case, his anger at his father and his brother (which he mentioned) and which is what Thanos used to manipulate him, promising him the “throne of Midgard” etc. It was a slippery bargain of course, because The Other was watching Loki and making sure he upheld his end of this bargain, or else Thanos would kill him. After all, why did he strike a bargain with that purple grape in the first place? He was hurled through space when he fell from the Bifrost. Remember? “I remember you tossing me into an abyss, I who was and should be king!”

So… yes, Loki was manipulated and mind-controlled by Thanos, we already knew that, of course, and personally, I think it’s still so traumatising for him to think, let alone talk about it that he would rather focus on his anger that caused all of this. If Loki was the honourable hero character (who we don’t need him to be anyways) he probably would have let Thanos kill him no matter what he offered. Maybe he wouldn’t have talked his way out of it with a bargain that meant the cost of many innocent lives. Instead, he let his anger drive him and Thanos used that to his advantage. That’s my ten pence on it!

From now on, I’m as in the dark as you guys. No clue what’s gonna happen in Episode 3 but I reckon we’re gonna meet Renslayer again. Let’s give her a good slap in the face when we do, shall we?

[carlos-in-glasses]

Hi cgi!💚💚

I just finished reading “When soulmates swim,” and I wanted to let you know that I was deeply moved by it‼︎🥹🥹 English isn’t my first language, so there might be parts I didn’t fully understand, but this story had everything I look for – it’s emotional, funny, hot🥵,and beautiful!! The way it portrays TK, who has been through so much, building a relationship with Carlos is incredibly well done. TK diving into his relationship with Carlos, much like diving into the pool, was such a beautiful metaphor😭💚I was so engrossed in the story that I forgot to leave kudos for chapters up to Chapter 6 because I was so engrossed. Thank you for this amazing fic! I’ve been reading it for about a week, and every time you mentioned my art or work in progress, my heart raced.

It inspired me to draw the final scene from the last chapter, and I’m eager to do that‼︎ However, I’m concerned it might be a spoiler. Would that be okay with you? 🥲🩵 I wish I could have asked on Ask Day, but I'm a bit slow😔😔

Oh my gosh hello ❤️❤️❤️😭 I have had a hard, sad day - so logging in to find this message has helped me so much. I can't thank you enough. I'm honestly over the moon that you enjoyed it and took the time to read and found so much within it that you like. All I want is to write and give people a Tarlos that they can recognise and connect with.

I love your art - you are beautifully talented! I would LOVE to see your interpretation of the final scene. That would be so amazing!!! Thank you!!! I can't believe how lovely this is! (And no worries about not asking sooner!!!) I wish I could say thank you a million times!

Tarlos smoochies for you!:

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 7

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings: angst, mild profanity, brief mention of childhood cancer and death

Tagging:  @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @thesirenrealm @residentdormouse @asirensrage @munstysmind @muchadoaboutcj @starryeyes2000 @karimac @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @occommunity @themaradaniels​

My tag list is OPEN. Just give me a shout if you’d like to added :)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/115598767

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a social call?”

“Is that any way to greet your nearest and dearest?” Nik chides. “Haven’t we progressed to pleasantries by now?”

“I’ve spent enough time with you to know you never call with pleasant news. Or ideas.”

“It’s been a couple of years since I got you into trouble. I thought it was kind of fun. The last time we got together.”

“You and I have very different views on what’s considered ‘fun’. Being caught in the middle of a prison riot isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.” Tyler catches movement out of the corner of his eye; watching as Delaney briefly slides upon the door and sets a mug of coffee down on the deck. And he returns her shaky smile with a brief one of his own; offering a stiff nod when she raises her hand in farewell.

He wants to feel something. Anything. Regret, guilt, humiliation. And while he’s able to acknowledge that he hurt her and should find a way to make amends, he can’t help but wonder if it’s even worth the effort. It’ll never work; the two of them rarely see eye to eye on where their relationship stands or where it’s heading. He will never be the man she wants him to be; he can’t bring himself to open up to her or commit to anything more serious than they’re already experiencing. And she’ll always be in competition with Esme; everything she says and does will constantly be compared to the year he’d spent with someone else.

“It wasn’t THAT bad,” Nik’s voice jolts him back to the conversation at hand. “You got out of there unscathed. Relatively, anyway. And I’m kind of insulted; you assuming I only call under bad circumstances. Maybe I just missed you and wanted to catch up. See how you’re doing.”

“I’m the same as I was when you called out of the blue six months ago. Old, sore, and miserable.”

“So basically the same as the day I met you. Minus the ‘old’. You always did have the personality of a crotchety old man, standing on his front porch with a shotgun, yelling at people to stay off his lawn.”

Smirking, he heads barefoot across the deck and then peers through the window; making sure the kitchen is empty before grabbing the cup of coffee. “Comparing me to Clint Eastwood? That’s a compliment. I’ll take it.”

“It’s nice to see that some things don’t really change. You’re still a smart ass, Tyler.”

“And you’re still a sweet talker. Flattery gets you everywhere.” Taking a swig of his drink, he grimaces at the bitter taste; mumbling profanities as he heads for the edge of the deck and dumps the coffee out onto the grass. “You alright? How’s things?”

“Busy. As usual. The bad guys don’t take days off.”

“Being busy keeps you out of trouble. Or keeps you in it. I know how you get when you’re bored’ all grumpy and shit when business is slow. Nice to hear you’re keeping a roof over your head. What house are you on now? Six? Seven? Last time we talked you were thinking about buying that penthouse in Dubai. Somewhere you could keep your boy toy stashed away. How is he anyway? Did you feed him breakfast and get him on the school bus alright?”

“You’re such a fucking asshole. Remind me why I call you again?”

“Usually because you need me to bail your ass out of trouble. Or you want to get me into some. Like I said, I know this isn’t a social call.”

“Maybe it’s both. Personal AND business. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

“Depends what the business is.”

“First thing’s first. I never bought the place in Dubai. And there is no boy toy. Not anymore.”

“Sorry to hear that. You seemed pretty happy. What went wrong? He got therapy for his mummy issues?”

“He just decided he wanted to go in a different direction with his life. Without me along for the ride. Apparently, I was ‘bringing him down’. He wanted someone he could pamper and spoil and treat like a princess. Someone completely dependent on him. Subservient.”

“He definitely barked up the wrong tree with that one. Things are good, though? Other than that?”

“I’m still as assertive and bitchy as ever, if that’s what you’re asking. And things are okay. I’m still on this side of the dirt.”

“Definitely a good day when you can say that.”

“Things are good. I’M good. What about you, Tyler? How are YOU? And don’t bullshit me. I always know when you’re lying.”

He contemplates telling her about the dreams and the memories; about the immense loneliness and heartache that have permanently staked their claim on both heart and mind. He’d been encouraged by the feelings and the semblance of happiness he’d experienced when he met Delaney; allowing himself to begin a relationship even though he’d made it perfectly clear that it was the last thing he really wanted. He’d been willing to try; succumbing to the pressure piled on by her brother and Koen. And while he’d enjoyed the moments of contentment and the companionship that she provided him with, they were always fleeting; finding himself quickly annoyed by her presence and her often overbearing and suffocating behaviour. Then the guilt would set in; the harsh reality that while she deserves so much better, he can’t seem to totally cut her loose. Not wanting to be alone, yet not wanting her around at the same time; desperately needing space and breathing room. And it makes him feel pathetic. Weak. The fact that his happiness still hinges on a woman who clearly showed she never meant a damn word she said to him; lying about love and her hopes for a future…THEIR future…and conning him in the same way she had so many others while on the job.

“I’m doing alright.” He chooses the easy way out. “ Working a lot of long hours. Putting out a lot of fires. Getting a lot of cats out of trees.”

Nik gives a small laugh.

“And the reno business is going good. A lot of clients on my hands. And more coming on board every week.”

“How are you feeling? Health-wise?”

“I’m in better shape than I've ever been. I feel good, Nik. Real good. Keeping myself busy. Active. Rate I’m going, I might live to be ninety.”

“And mentally?”

“It’s hit or miss. Some days are good, some not so good. It’s a crap shoot.”

“You still on the meds? Are you…?”

“I’m stable, Nik. I keep on top of it. Haven’t had a really bad episode in a while. It’s under control.”

“What about the other stuff?”

“I’m clean. Sober. Haven’t had a drink or gone anywhere near Oxy in four years. And I plan on keeping it that way. Now…” His knees crack as he lowers himself onto the top step of the deck stairs. “… is this where we quit the bullshit chit-chat and get down to why you really called? Because I am staring down a twelve-hour shift; gotta be at the station soon.”

“I have a job for you.”

“I’m retired.”

“SEMI retired. And you said whenever I needed you…”

“I didn’t say ‘whenever’, I said if you ever found yourself in a tough spot. If a job came up that you didn’t have the right guy for.”

“I’m in a tough spot. I DO have the right men for it, but…”

“But? You either do or you don’t. What’s…?”

“There’s a client asking for you. By name. Willing to pay big money.”

“How’d they hear about me?”

“I didn’t ask. But when I told them that I had other men that were more than capable of getting the job done, they wouldn’t hear of it. Your reputation precedes you, Tyler. This isn’t the first time someone has wanted you in the driver’s seat.”

“First time it’s happened since I retired. Did you tell them? That I didn’t exactly have both feet in the pond anymore?”

“It didn’t matter. They said they only wanted you. In fact, they said it HAS to be you.”

“Sounds like they’re pretty determined.”

“They want the best. No one else will do. They won’t settle for mediocrity.”

“What kind of stakes are we looking at?”

“Pretty damn high. You’ll be going against a pretty powerful organized crime family. Hell-bent on revenge.”

“What did the client do? To get themselves on their bad side?”

“They were working a job themselves. Strictly on the down-low. Spent months infiltrating the circle. They had their cover blown last night. I had to get a team together and go in and get them out of trouble. I’ve got them somewhere safe right now, but…”

“You need to get them somewhere safer.”

“I can only keep them here for a few days. It’s a secure spot, but one that’s normally just a refuge for certain clientele. The owner is doing me a huge favour; giving them a suite to hole up in and around-the-clock protection. The goal is to get them out of the country. Take them somewhere far away while my team and I deal with things here.”

“And where exactly is ‘here’?”

“New York City.”

“Jesus Christ, Nik. You know how much I hate the North American circuit. I haven’t been that way in six, seven years. You know I like to stick to things on the other side of the globe.”

“I realize that. But I’m only doing what the client asked for. And that’s for you to handle their case. I wouldn’t have called you if they weren’t adamant about this. And if I didn’t agree that you really are the best person for this job.”

Sighing, he runs a palm along his beard. “What exactly is it you need me to do?”

“Get the client out of New York City. Get them somewhere safe. Keep an eye on them. Until my team and I handle things here.”

“Babysit, you mean.”

“Extract and protect. Tyler, I wouldn’t have called if she…”

“Hold up…hold up. It’s a SHE? Nik…”

“Tyler, they…SHE..asked for you. She’s adamant. It has to be you.”

“I’m not into rescuing damsels in distress. Nik. I’m not some knight in shining armour. I’m…”

“She comes with fragile contents.”

He falls silent; his thoughts turning to his son. That beautiful, blond-haired little boy that he’d left behind while he was sick and dying; choosing the military over his family when they’d needed him the most. And he allows himself to think of the happier times; before cancer ever became a part of their lives. The walks on the beach and the camping and fishing trips and the dreams of his son taking up his love of surfing.

“Tyler…”

“How old?”

“Four. A little girl. Her mother is terrified. Says she can’t trust just anyone with her daughter’s life. All that matters to her is the little one. Keeping her safe.”

“And exactly who are these people? That are after them? I know you said organized crime, but…”

“It’s better we discuss that in person. Along with the payout. How soon can you be in New York City?”

“How soon can you get me a flight”?

“I can get you a red eye. Your time, of course. I’ll set it all up. Contact you when everything is finalized. Can I tell them? That you’ve agreed to take it? Can I give them my word that you’ll show?”

“I’ll be there,” he promises, abruptly hanging up to end the call. And for several minutes he remains on the step; listening to the kookaburras and the rustle of leaves as a stiff breeze passes through the trees. And his chest aches and his eyes close as he once more thinks of her. Of big brown eyes and a freckle-splattered nose and hair that felt like silk when his hands moved through it.

And of the absence of her next to him.

*****

The sweatshirt is faded and tattered. His smell long gone. It had devastated her when it finally happened; preparing herself for the inevitable over the course of several months, yet still despondent when it disappeared entirely. The hoodie had been the last thing she had grabbed before fleeing the shack; snagging it off the back of the armchair in the living room on her way out the door. Wanting something…anything…to remember him by; a token or souvenir that could remind her of happier, simpler times and all of the plans they’d made for their future. And provide her comfort on the hardest of days and loneliest of nights; either wearing it as intended or simply wrapping it around her pillow. Desperately needing to feel him close to her amidst the harsh reality she’d likely never see him again; the mixture of his familiar scent and the warmth provided by the fabric the closest thing she had to being in his arms.

It had been her only link to him. Just a plain and simple burgundy garment that he’d purchased long before they met. The drawstring for the hood completely missing, the cuffs of the sleeves moth bitten and frayed, the fabric stained in various places; remnants of paint and drywall from when he’d been doing much-needed repairs and renovations on the shack. Every imperfection and loose thread served as a reminder of the time they’d spent together; ten months spent getting to know one another and growing together and planning a future. Dhaka had created a solid foundation for them to build upon; beginning with those initial five days in that dirty little hotel and room and ending with those terrifying and life-altering moments on the bridge. Everything that came after served to help them learn about one another and grow together; his long stay in the hospital, her decision to stay in Australia instead of returning to Colorado, and that comfortable little bubble they created inside that run-down little cabin in the outback. Shedding blood, sweat, and tears while turning it into a home; every coat of paint and every inch of new flooring helping to exorcise the darkness and the demons that haunted him for far too long.

Her fingers trace each hole and every frayed edge. The sweater was the one thing she’d refused to leave behind; frantically searching through both clean and dirty laundry baskets and then hastily shoving it into the lone backpack she and Millie had fled with. Choosing those stains and imperfections over the most expensive garments in her closet; the memories attached to it far more important than any price tag or designer label. Alessio had always nagged her to get rid of it; it was far too big on her petite frame, far too messy with its stains and its puckers and tears, far too ‘poor looking’. Despite refusing to get too deeply involved with his family’s illegal doings, he put far too much emphasis on being one of the ‘elite’; obsessed with the image that he not only presented and maintained, but she and Millie as well.

The latter he complained about often; her hair was too wild and untamed, she was too loud and vibrant and should be ‘seen and not heard’ and he was ‘disgusted’ by her penchant for mixing the frilliest of dresses with the sloppiest of footwear. And Millie had been devastated when he’d taken it upon himself to throw out her beloved light-up Spiderman sandals while she’d been at school; crying herself to sleep as her mother cuddled her tight and tried her very best to console her. The next morning, Esme had made it a point of replacing the shoes; buying two pairs and then boldly setting them right in the midst of all of Alessio’s Hugo Boss and Bruno Malli loafers. He had crossed a line and she refused to let it slip; no one disrespected her daughter and got away with it. Those sandals representing everything that is beautiful and perfect about her little girl. Carefree and confident, vibrant and creative, feisty and resilient. And no one was going to strip her of those things and turn her into a watered-down version of who she was meant to be.

He had tried the same nonsense with the sweater; throwing it into the bin in the kitchen and burying it under household waste in hopes of preventing her from finding it. When she couldn’t locate it after an especially long and trying day of attempting to keep up the lies and the fake persona, she’d just KNOWN he was the culprit. And she’d frantically and angrily torn apart every inch of the house in order to find it; tears spilling down her cheeks as she ranted and raved about his refusal to respect her or her boundaries. In his eyes she was being ridiculous and overly dramatic; what kind of sane and rational person is that attached to a cheap hoodie that looked as if she picked it out of a dumpster? She hadn’t bothered to explain; he would never understand and definitely would never try. And she hadn’t wanted to share those intimate details; tales of her real and her immense heartache and guilt over the choices she made just made things far too personal. She was just there for the job after all; not make genuine bonds and actually go through with the wedding. Admittedly, she had enjoyed how he made her feel when he wasn’t being a complete asshole; loved and wanted and cherished. It had been so long since she’d had a man gaze at her in adoration; it was flattering and ego boosting and it did wonders to mend some of her shattered confidence. But there was no way she could ever TRULY care for him. She’d only ever loved one man in her life; with everything she was and everything she had. And she’d wounded him deeply and saddled herself with a lifetime of regret.

Moving on is impossible. Even with the most honourable and respectful of men. After all, how do you love a person when your heart still firmly rests in the hands of someone else?

Her heart is heavy as she slips into the hoodie; a mixture of anticipation and fear co-mingling with the guilt and regret that’s been burdening her for four and a half years. While she’s relieved he agreed to the job and both anxious and excited to see him again, there’s genuine fear gnawing at both stomach and nerves. She worries about how deep the damage may still run; how ferociously he may be clinging to all that hurt and anger. Nik had always kept her informed of how he was doing during the first year; searching endlessly and aimlessly for her, struggling to maintain his sobriety, one moment filled with rage and hate and the other with heartache and loneliness.

She wouldn’t blame him; if -upon seeing her- he changed his mind about the job and turned his back on both her and Millie. She had wounded him deeply; fleeing without explanation and leaving nothing but random articles of clothing, her recently factory-reset cell phone, and an apology hastily scribbled on a scrap piece of paper. Nothing more than a simple and pathetic “I’m sorry”; placed in the middle of the kitchen table and propped up by her favourite mug. It seemed silly; leaving something so trivial behind. But in the back of her mind she’d hoped it would give him some kind of solace; having something that she’d loved and had brought her so much joy. Perhaps he’d even see it as something much deeper; both a reassurance that her absence wouldn’t be permanent, and a promise that she’d one day return to that cup. And to him.

Drawing the sleeves of the hoodie over her hands, she lifts them to her face and inhales deeply. While his scent may no longer cling to the fabric, if she closes her eyes and tries hard enough, she can still remember it. Familiar and comforting, it fills her with a sense of peace and contentment; allowing her to immerse herself in the memories of those much happier, easier times. It’s the smell of home; of safety and security and love. A reminder of the last time she’d ever been truly happy. When she’d been taught what love…REAL LOVE…was all about it. It was patience and it was sacrifice and it was choosing to be together even when all the cards were stacked against them. It was taking the bad along with the good and learning more about yourself than the person you’re with. Tyler had shown her that she was still worthy of love and being loved in return; taking all her broken pieces and every so slowly and tenderly putting them back together. Mark hadn’t destroyed her, he’d simply damaged her. And another man was ready, willing, and able to help her out of that deep, dark hole she’d been tossed into. And when he wasn’t able to, he just climbed down into that hole with her. Loving her when she wasn’t capable of loving herself.

She misses that. That level of adoration. Trust. Acceptance.

Most of all, she misses HIM.

******

A brisk knock comes to the door, followed by Abuela’s voice; soft and full of concern. “Esme? Are you awake?”

She wishes she was; wanting nothing more than to climb into bed and bury herself under a mountain of blankets and stay there forever. She’s physically and mentally exhausted and the ache is intense; her heart heavy and weary as she relives both those happier times and the moment she’d thrown her entire life away. There’d been no other choice; he hadn’t deserved to be dragged into the mess with The High Table and she knew she had to do whatever it took to keep him safe. Even if it meant breaking both their hearts in the process

It hasn’t been easy; attempting to go on with life without him. And at times she still grieves the tremendous loss; torturing herself with thoughts of ‘what if’ and daydreaming about what their life would have been like had everything worked out for the best. It’s an agony she wouldn’t wish on her own worst enemy; to love someone to the very depths of your soul yet be forced to cut them loose. And then spend the rest of your days missing them terribly and constantly wondering about ‘ what could have been’.

“Esme?” Abuela again, her knock more insistent. “Honey, you CAN’T stay holed up in there forever. I know you’re going through it right now and it seems like there’s no end in sight, but you’ve got to at least TRY and function. You’re not sleeping…you’re not eating properly…you’re…”

“I’m not hungry. I just need some time. Alone. Just a little bit of time.”

“You didn’t eat breakfast and you went back to bed the second Millie went downstairs to hang out at the front desk with Charon. Have you been sleeping all this time? It is well after noon hour and…”

Had she really been hiding for that long? Locked away with her memories and her guilt and regret? Had she even fallen back asleep? It’s all so hazy; every moment that’s passed since fleeing her home in the middle of the night is a complete blur. She had expected the news of Tyler agreeing to take the job would brighten her spirits; fill her with hope and optimism and a newfound assurance that everything was going to be okay. But the lingering trepidation has now shifted focus; switching from the desperate need to ensure Millie’s safety to wanting to keep her own heart intact. She had lied the night before; when she told Nik she could handle Tyler having another woman in his life. That she’d be able to cope if all they could manage was being friends and amicably co-parenting their daughter. The truth is that she’ll be devastated; torn apart seeing him in love with someone else and watching them with the adoration and affection that had once been solely reserved for her.

It makes her physically nauseous to even THINK about it. The stress and the fear and the heartache finally catch up to her and she buries her face in her hands and openly sobs. She hates herself for what she’s done; not only hurting the only man she’s ever loved, but putting their daughter’s life at risk. The baby that she so desperately wanted but has kept from him for four years; her own pride and selfishness and fear harming them both. And maybe it’s her punishment for making such horrible mistakes; forced to watch him as he creates a life with someone other than her.

She hears neither the door clicking open nor Abuela’s footfalls as she enters the room, yet suddenly finds herself wrapped in the woman’s strong, motherly embrace. She has been a godsend since the job started; working under the guise of being Millie’s nanny while not only keeping a close eye on both mother and child, but on Alessio’s behaviour and the comings and goings of his family. At a remarkably spry and fierce, sixty-five, Abuela -as she’d told Millie to call her- remains a legend among those in the ‘circle’; long ago given the moniker ‘the death dealer’’ for her lucrative mercenary and weapon trafficking businesses. Highly educated and well-spoken, she personifies ‘never judge a book by its cover’; conning people with an initially meek and mild persona and then quickly becoming their worst nightmare. Tall and beautiful even as she ages; with warm, dark eyes and an inviting smile and a soft, demure smile. But she’s not to be disrespected or underestimated. There were very valid and admirable reasons why she excelled in a world dominated by testosterone.

“Talk to me,” Abuela encourages as she pulls away; smoothing Esme’s unkempt hair from her face and then cradling her face in her palms. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“It’s just too much. It’s just all too much.”

“What is? Take a breath and tell me. What’s too much?”

“Everything. Five years ago, two nights ago…” She struggles to draw breath. “...just…everything! I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up so bad and I don’t know how to fix it. First Tyler, now Millie. I screwed things up with him and now I’ve royally messed things up as a mom and…”

“That’s bullshit. Utter bullshit. You did no such thing. Millie is fine. She’s settled nicely, she’s almost back to being her normal self. In a couple of days, she won’t even think about what happened. It won’t even bother her anymore. And you know why? Because her mother was right there with her. Through all the tears and the tantrums and the nightmares. That’s what she’ll remember. That you never left her side.”

“I never should have taken the risk. Not with her involved. I know the job. I know how crazy and unpredictable it can be. How quickly things can go wrong. And I never…ever…should have dragged her into that. Knowing the possibilities. I never…”

“You had no reason to believe things that would go THAT bad. None of us did. I know I didn’t see it coming. And I’ve been in the game a hell of a lot longer than you have.”

“No mother in their right mind would have gotten their kid mixed up in this shit. What kind of parent would do that? Get back into this life? When they have someone dependent on them? She’s innocent. She doesn’t deserve any of this. She never should have been put in harm’s way. And I’m the one who put her there!”

“All you’ve ever done is love that little girl. Devote your entire life to her. Your entire BEING. You didn’t intentionally put her in danger. There is no way you could have known how bad things were going to go. Now when it had all been going so well. For months! Esme…” Abuela uses her thumbs to swipe at the younger woman’s tears. “...none of this is your fault. You did nothing wrong. In fact, you were doing everything RIGHT. Things went sideways. It happens. You should know that by now.”

“But Millie. I never…”

“Millie is tough. Like her momma. You’re her entire world. The centre of her little universe. Do you think she thinks any less of you because of what happened? That she blames you? All that mattered to her was that momma was there through the entire thing. Keeping her safe. That’s all.”

“I don’t want her growing up to hate me. I don’t want her thinking…years from now…that I put her in danger. Because I would never do that. Not intentionally. All I’ve ever wanted was to protect. Even when she was still in my belly. Keeping her safe was my priority. And now…”

“And now you’ve taken the proper steps to get her the hell out of New York and to somewhere safe. WITH someone safe. And it’ll do you both a world of good; being far away from this shit show. Now….” She loops Esme’s hair behind her ears, then once more cups her cheeks in her palms. “...you’re no good to that little one of yours if you don’t take care of yourself. And that includes eating. You need to…’

“I’m really not hungry. I….”

“No nonsense from you. No more bullshit. You need to keep your strength. For Millie AND for yourself.”

She allows herself to be guided from the bedroom room and out into the living area. Abuela’s arm wrapped securely around her shoulders, keeping her tightly pressed into her side. It’s attentive and caring. Motherly. The treatment she’d so desperately longed for from her own flesh and blood as a child and beyond. And it’s filled a void that she never realized she had; repairing those final pieces of the wounded little girl and teenager that had never felt wanted or loved. Old, previously gaping wounds that nearly healed; no longer needing reassurance or acceptance from her own blood when she’s surrounded by her ‘adoptive’ family.

And Millie, of course. With those brilliant blue eyes and cheeky grin and infectious giggle. So full of brightness and love and wonder.

“I took the liberty.” Abuela nods down at the coffee table; its surface filled with various cold beverages and a wide variety of Mexican food. “All your favourites. Nothing like a little comfort food to get things back on the right track.”

“I don’t know how much I can eat,” Esme laments, and rubs her stomach in slow, smooth circles. “I’m not exactly in the best shape. My nerves are shot. Everything’s just piling up and piling up. And when I think about how I’m going to come face to face with him in less than twenty-four hours…”

“Just try your best. Believe me, you’ll feel a lot better with at least something in you. You can’t pour from an empty cup, Esme. You’re going to burn yourself out; letting your mind run rampant like that. So just sit…” With a hand on the small of the younger woman’s back, she leads her to the couch and encourages her to take a seat. “...and try and relax and get at least a little bit of food.”

“Millie…” Worry creases her forehead as she furtively glances around the suite. “....where….?”

“Grandpa Winston took her for lunch on the rooftop terrace. And told her he has some flowers that are in dire need of her attention.”

“Millie and her green thumb,” Esme smiles and accepts a cutlery and a plate of food. “Not even four and a half and she can grow anything, it seems. I can’t even keep a simple house plant alive and she’s out in the backyard watering her massive strawberry and tomato plants. She always tells me it’s because she talks and sings to them. Always says, ‘momma, you have to baby them. You have to chat and sing!’ I think she’s just damn lucky.”

“She’s certainly got a knack for nurturing things. Actually, she has a knack for quite a lot, doesn’t she? If anyone ever told me that a four-year-old could draw as good as she does…”

“Her dad’s quite the artist. It’s his secret talent. I never would have expected it in a million years. And then he told me about his childhood and how he loved to draw and how his mom really supported it. She was his biggest fan. His dad…” She chews thoughtfully on her bottom lip; eyes downcast she uses her fork to move food around her plate. “...well let’s just say he didn’t deserve that title. Dad.”

“Not a Father of the Year award finalist?”

“Not in the slightest. He was a horrible person. First to Tyler’s mom, then to Tyler. He had it pretty rough. His dad was a monster. And that’s putting it lightly. He used to worry about being just like him. Whenever we’d talk about kids and if we could see ourselves having any. He’d always tell me that he was scared. Of turning into his dad. And that was the last thing he wanted.”

“And would you say?”

“That it could never happen. That he was nowhere close to being like his father. I understood though; why he felt that way. I just tried to do my best to convince him he wasn’t the monster he thought he was.”

“Because of what happened with his son?”

Esme glances up. “How’d you…?”

“Information is easy to get. If you know where to look and who to ask. I never hired someone without thoroughly researching them. And I taught Nik to do the same.”

“Tyler made a mistake. He was scared and emotionally vulnerable and weak. He admitted that. And everything fell apart after his son died. His marriage, his military career. His sobriety. He was in a pretty dark place. When I met him.”

“Seems like you got him out of it.”

“We got EACH OTHER out of it. I wasn’t in the best shape, either. Between my own marriage disintegrating and the problems with The High Table. And then Dhaka…”

“That was…messy.”

“That’s putting it lightly. Everything that could go wrong, did.”

“Other than that first five days.”

A blush creeps into her cheeks. “You know about THAT, too?”

“Oh, honey. I know about everything. Word travels. And it’s not hard to put two and two together. A woman doesn’t just decide to give up her entire life for no reason. It’s obvious something happened. To make you stick around. Both on that bridge and off it.”

“It wasn’t the right place. Or the right time. But it happened. And neither of us regretted it. Or at least we didn’t five years ago. I know I don’t. He’s still the best thing that ever happened to me. He was the first person that ever made me feel safe and protected. Who I could just be myself with. And he gave me Millie. We created this amazing little human together. No way I could EVER regret that.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t regret meeting you. Or how things went down between you. If you were to ask him, I’m sure he’d say that was the best ten months of his life. You saved him. In every way a person can be saved.”

“And then I turned around and hurt him. He deserved so much better; than how I ended things. He deserved so much better than ME. And I don't know how to make up for it. I don’t know what to say to him. Somehow ‘sorry’ just doesn’t seem to cut it, you know?”

“Just tell him the truth. Tell him about your involvement with The High Table and the threats they made and that you had no other choice. You did what you did to PROTECT him. You said it yourself; he never would have survived their onslaught.”

“He would have fought back. No hesitation. When he told me that he’d do anything for me…anything he had to keep me safe…he meant it. HE SHOWED it. In Dhaka. We barely knew each other and he was more than willing to sacrifice himself so I’d get out of there alive. There’s no way he would have just let them walk in and take me. He wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. And I never would have forgiven myself; if something happened to him.”

“Then tell him that. Tell him ALL of it. It isn’t just black and white, Esme. There are a lot of shades of grey. But once you explain, he’ll understand. That it WAS for the best. And that it wasn’t a decision you wanted to make,”

“I never wanted to go. And I didn’t leave because I didn’t love him. I left because I did.”

“Make sure you tell him that too. And maybe he won’t understand right away…right in the moment…but once you give him a chance to sit back and let everything sink in? He’ll realize you only had his best interests at heart. You were protecting him. In the same way he would have protected you.”

“He may understand THAT, but what about Millie? How do I explain HER? I kept her from him. For four years! For the first eight months, I didn’t have a choice. I had to protect BOTH of them. But what about after? I had so many chances to reach out to him. To let him know about her.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“I was scared. I was worried that he hated me enough to totally turn his back on her. And I wouldn’t have been able to handle that. Him rejecting her. My baby. OUR baby. I realize now how stupid I was. For ever thinking that. Because I know his heart. He’s a good man, AB. A really good man. And he wanted to be a dad again. He was just afraid. There’s no way he would have closed the door on her. Pretended that she didn’t exist.”

“And you think he would do that now? Esme, he’s still that same man. The one you fell in love with. The one you STILL love. I see it in your eyes and I hear it in your voice. It’s all still there, isn’t it.”

“I never got over him. I don’t think I ever will. And I know he’s moved on and it’s killing me inside; thinking about him with someone else. I tried convincing myself that I’d be okay with it; if all we could manage was co-parenting Millie. But the truth is, I don’t think I can do it. See him with another woman. Even if it is what I deserve.”

“And these are things you need to tell him. If there was ever a time to be completely honest, this is it. As soon as you can, you need to sit him down and tell him everything you’ve told me. It’s what he deserves, don’t you think?”

She nods.

“He’s going to be angry and hurt and he’s likely going to lash out. He’s been holding onto all of that for years. And just like you have things that you need to talk about, so does he. Once he’s gotten that anger out, he WILL listen. Because there was a time he loved you very much. Where he would have done anything for you. And I’m pretty sure some of those feelings still exist. If not all of them.”

“But if he hates me…”

“I doubt he hates you. I don’t think he could EVER hate you. I’ve met Tyler. Briefly. When he first started working for Nik. And I could see it in his eyes; all that hurt he was carrying around. But you know what else I saw? Humanity. Lingering right there under the surface. Someone that could still feel. That was still living. Even if he didn’t realize it.”

“That’s what I saw too. When we met. He wasn’t like everyone else on the job. He was quiet and thoughtful. He had a gentleness to him. And that’s what drew me in. The fact he was different. And when we were in Dhaka, I got to see all these different sides to him. That he never let anyone else see. And that was the man I fell in love with. The one that cried to me about his son and the mistakes that he’d made. The one who wanted to kill my ex-husband for doing the things he did to me. The one who looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing on earth.”

“That’s the man you still love.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t stop. I know I should. But I just can’t.”

“There’s no time limit. On when it’s appropriate to get over someone. Sometimes you never do. Sometimes you find that one person that you love more than you ever thought you could love someone. And then you lose them. Unfortunately. I never got over my husband. I still love him. I still miss him. And it’s been twenty years.”

“How did you do it? Move on? How did you get over him?”

“I didn’t. And just because my body is carrying on, it doesn’t mean my heart is. There will never be another. I don’t want there to be. And something tells me you don’t want that either.”

“I don’t,” Esme admits. “I don’t want anyone else. Just him. It’ll always be just him.”

“And that’s what you tell him. I know you’re scared; that he’s going to tell you he doesn’t want the same thing. But you need to take the risk. Because if you don’t and he DOES move on with his life, you’re going to spend the rest of your life kicking yourself in the ass. Isn’t it better to find out where you stand than spend decades watching him with someone else?”

“I guess so. I don’t know. I just…” Setting her plate on the coffee table, she places her elbows on her knees and her face in her palms. “...I just didn’t think this is how it would go. Seeing him again. Telling him about Millie. This is not what I planned for. At all.”

“But this is where we’re at. This is what’s happening. Through no fault of your own. And in twenty-four hours, he’s going to be standing right in front of you. And as scared as you are, I know there’s a part of you that’s excited. About seeing him again.”

“Of course I’m excited. I’ve only spent nearly five years thinking about him. Worrying about him. Missing him. I WANT to see him. But I’m still terrified. About how things are going to go. About what I’m going to say to him. How I’m going to explain the things I did. How I’m going to explain our baby. HIS baby.”

“When he’s here…when you’re finally face to face with him…it’ll come to you. Just speak from the heart. You can never go wrong when you do that, believe me.”

Tears threaten; lower lip and chin wobbling as she attempts to rein in her emotions. “What have I done, AB? What kind of mess have I made? How did this happen? How did it all go so wrong? We were so happy. We were happy and we were planning a future and it just went so bad. We deserved a chance. At a normal life. We paid our dues and made our amends. Wasn’t it enough?”

“Sometimes things don’t go the way we want them to. There’s no reason. No explanation. They just don’t. But honey, you have the chance. To set things right. To get back to where you were. And it’s scary as hell; having to own up to what you’ve done. But that man deserves to hear it, don’t you think?”

“He deserved that a long time ago.”

“Love is a hell of a thing. There’s times it's wonderful and it’s beautiful and there’s times it’s maddening and terrifying. But nine times out of ten? It’s more than worth it. And you’ll never know what he’s feeling if you DON’T face him. Do you want to spend the rest of your life wondering what he would have said?”

“Of course not. Five years has been way too long as it is.”

“He’s not going to turn his back on you. Not after everything the two of you went through in Dhaka. Not after you gave up your life for him. And especially not after he meets that little girl. He’s going to take one look at her and fall madly and deeply in love.”

“I hope so. Because she’s everything that’s perfect and beautiful inside both of us.”

“Even if she does look exactly like him.”

Esme manages a laugh, then uses the backs of her hands to brush wayward tears from her cheeks. “She’s definitely his Mini Me. From head to toe. You know how many times I’ve been asked if I’m her nanny? When we’re out together? There’s not a stitch of me in her. She is ALL dad.”

“I don’t know about that. She’s a strong little thing. Resilient as hell. And stubborn…”

“That’s him too. The stubborn thing. He is the most stubborn human being I have ever met.”

“Other than when you look in the mirror, you mean? Because in case you haven’t been told, you have got to be the most pigheaded person on the planet. I’ve never seen anyone that gets knocked down and keeps getting back up quite like you do.”

“What’s the saying? It’s the little ones you have to watch out for? They’re the ones you least expect?”

“I always say that great things come in small packages. Millie, her mom. Look at everything you’ve been through. Not just here in New York, either. Dhaka, the trouble with The High Table. All the things that could have…SHOULD HAVE…broken you? You beat them. On your own.”

“I had help. In Dhaka. I wouldn’t have survived. If Tyler hadn't been there. If he hadn’t been so willing to sacrifice himself for Ovi and I. He could have left us. He could have just abandoned us and worried about himself. But he didn’t. He was willing to die for us, AB. No questions asked.”

“If he was willing to do that then, think about what he’ll be willing to do for you now. After the year you spent together. After loving one another. After making a baby together. Do you really think he’ll feel nothing? When he sees you?”

“I don’t know what he’ll feel. Good OR bad. I want it to be good. I’d give anything for it to be good.”

“Give him a chance. Even if he doesn’t react the way you want at first…even if he’s angry as hell…give that to him. He’ll come around. I don’t doubt it. In the slightest. He’s a smart man. Smarter than anyone gives him credit for.”

“I always thought so too. That everyone underestimated him. That he underestimated himself. I can’t wait to see him.” Tears threaten once again. “It’s all I’ve wanted. For almost five years. Just to see him. To hear his voice. Just be in the same room with him again.”

“Soon.“Very soon.”

“I just hope he wants the same thing. Who knows; maybe he’s been waiting for this too. I don’t think it’s too much to ask, do you? That maybe he feels the same way? That maybe he’s missed me too? That maybe he still loves me?”

“Oh sweetheart…” Leaning forward in her seat, Abuela reaches across the coffee table; gently cradling the younger woman’s cheek in her palm. “...I don’t that it’s too much to ask at all”

[for-dramas-sake]

My Favorite SHORT Dramas

My latest obsession in dramaland are mini dramas. They can go from 15 minutes to even 1 minute long per episode! 0_0 Here are my favorites!

The Only Girl You Haven’t Seen [MY FAVORITE SHORT DRAMA!]

An assassin is killed by her master and wakes up in the body a newly married bride to an idiot prince. But he’s not as dumb as he seems. These two go through multiple trials including war, disease and scheming princes not to mention their own secrets that threaten their marriage. 

Both of them are cuties and their love is adorable and simple. But then they are both bad asses in their own right and kick a lot of ass in this show. I love not only them and their love, but their growth into their identities. They prove that power couples are still possible!

Maid’s Revenge [BEST CHEMISTRY!]

After the murder of her entire family, a girl becomes the maid of the man who killed them. She plots her revenge against him not knowing the full truth of what really happened or who is really responsible for her family’s deaths. 

The main guy was perfect for this role: broody, commanding, sexy as hell and pining for the female lead. As for her, I like this actress after watching her in other cuter dramas so seeing her in this more serious drama made me appreciate her acting even more. There’s a lot of angst in this drama. You can drink with a straw. And the story’s not bad either. 

Dangerous Love [WISH THERE WAS MORE!]

A little scaredy cat marries a scary duke who supposedly killed all of his previous wives! She is terrified of him, but he isn’t as scary as she thinks he is. 

Another marriage life drama: this one with more comedy than The Only Girl. The girl has all these misunderstandings about her husband, and it doesn’t help that he doesn’t try all that hard to refute them. His way of winning her over is a bit different. The drama is silly but overall a great watch. 

Love for Two Lives [CUTEST DRAMA!]

A modern girl suddenly finds that she is living next door to a king from an ancient country! He makes his queen to avoid marrying someone else. She comes in and modernizes the palace to the king’s enjoyment, but not everyone likes her or her “tricks”.

A refreshing story! What do you get when you mix old school palace royals with new technology? This story. It’s hilarious and you love all the characters. The two leads have natural chemistry and I so want a 2nd season!

The Little Wife of the General [STORIES ABOUT GENERALS ARE MY WEAKNESS]

A modern gal gets into an accident and becomes a general’s bride! The overbearing general doesn’t want her as his bride but with her fantastic cooking skills and her bright personality she slowly wins him over. There’s another gal who wants the general for herself and proves to be the thorn in everyone’s side about it.

I liked this drama pure for the story and the WHEN! This is a slow burn romance so relax, put up your feet and wait for the general to come around. There is plenty to like otherwise: the comedy, the foodie prince who is always eating and plot that keeps that story rolling.

Bossy Husband Who Loved Me [Season 1] [MOST CREATIVE!]

A novelist is pulled into her own story and in order to get out she has to progress the story along, BUT the main character in the novel, who is also her husband, can read her mind and thus foils all of her plans. She has to deal with the aftermath and has no idea he can hear her thoughts.

This drama wins just for creative writing. Any story with someone falling into a story, a game, another world, etc. I am interested to see what craziness happiness. For this drama, that someone is the novelist herself, but she can’t succeed with her husband ruining everything she does. This is just season 1 so their story isn’t done yet. Let’s bring on season 2 and all that comes with it!

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets: Chapter 67: Discomfort

TWs in the tags

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You’ve come to find a thrill in discomfort. When you’re almost having a panic attack or flashback, but not quite. Even more, you enjoy the lightheaded relief you feel when you do something that makes you uncomfortable and nothing bad happens.

You say your name over and over again, using relaxation techniques the others have taught you each time. You recover from the panic faster and faster as you practice.

Things are good. Things are great, even if you’re having nightmares every night and need ibuprofen to get through the most basic of tasks without horrible pain. Jane isn’t controlling you anymore, so things are good. You managed to keep the collar off for three hours yesterday.

You wish you could remember what you used to call Puppy and Kitty. You’d write those names down too, and eventually say them, and then when they finally let Barron save them you won’t be calling them animal names.

No, no need to think about them right now, it doesn’t help anything.

You and Barron have been getting to know each other, though mostly in the company of Greg and Diya. You want to push yourself further.

“I’m going for a walk. Do you want to come with, Barron?"

It looks surprised. “…Sure.”

It’s a very quiet walk. Your heart pounds and pounds and your legs feel weak, being alone with someone who could hurt you so easily.

“I’m worried about you.” Barron says out of nowhere.

“Hm?”

“You’re making so much progress so fast. Which is great! But… I’m worried you’ll burn yourself out.”

“I already talked about this with Diya and Greg. I’m going slow. I still sleep with the collar on and I’m not going to ask you to call me Liam” deep breath “until I can say it without feeling afraid.”

“I see. That’s good. I’m glad they talked to you about it.”

You nod. You think you’re doing really well. Making lots of progress while still being gentle with yourself. What more could any of them want?

You don’t talk for the rest of the walk. When you get back, you take some ibuprofen and try to read a few more pages of the nightmare book you picked.

Things are good. Things are great. You find a thrill in discomfort, which is good, because you’re always, always feeling it. Always scared, so why not feel scared while doing something that’ll help instead of feeling scared doing nothing? You think you’re handling everything very well. You dream of Puppy and Kitty screaming, of kind strangers being slaughtered in front of you, of every bone in your body breaking and your name being repeated as you’re shocked over and over and over-

Everything’s fine. You don’t mind the discomfort. You like it! It’s fine.

~~

Before showering, Kitty grabs some clothes to change into. They move mostly on autopilot, but freeze when they notice all of their clothes with pockets have had them sewn closed.

Well. They don’t need those. They don’t have a phone or anything to carry around, anyway. And they’d definitely rather wear clothes with the pockets sewn closed than go back into the basement.

Kitty spends much longer cleaning themself than they need to, but Jane didn’t say to hurry. They… should be fine.

It’s nice to feel clean. It’s not like Jane was letting them out of sensory deprivation to use the bathroom, and sitting in their own filth for so long left them feeling less than human. Like the animal Jane claimed they were.

Kitty leaves the bathroom to look for Jane and Puppy. Jane said she wanted to talk.

Kitty wants to have a nice meal of human food and go to bed on a mattress with blankets wrapped around them. Hopefully this talk will be quick.

They can’t find anyone in the kitchen or living room or bathroom. Puppy’s not in her room.

Shit, did Jane want them to go back into the basement? They don’t want to do that, what if this was another trick giving them false hope and she’s going to put them right into sensory deprivation again? They don’t want that, they can’t do any more, they can’t!

They check every room again, and no ones there. They’re going to have to go back into the basement.

They stand outside the basement door, trying to psych themself up to go back down. It’ll just be worse if Jane thinks they were purposefully avoiding it. She probably already thinks that-

“Kitty.”

Kitty flinches and turns around. Jane lounges on the couch.

“Come here.”

Kitty obeys and sits next to Jane.

“Kneel.”

They sink to the floor.

“Good Kitty.” Jane pets their hair, and then produces a cat ear headband. They fight the urge to roll their eyes she places it on their head.

“You’ve spent too long thinking that you could get around my rules. I bet it made you feel safer, huh? That you knew that as long as you followed the letter of the law, you wouldn’t be punished. We aren’t going to do that anymore. I still expect you to follow the rules, of course, but deliberate disrespect will also be punished. And anything I don’t like!” She strokes their cheek. “I guess, really, the change is that obedience isn’t enough anymore. I want /compliance/. Got it?”

Kitty nods. “Yes, Master.”

They think they get the headband now. It’s a test. She never said to keep it on, so it wouldn’t be disobedient to take it off. But it also wouldn’t be compliant.

Jane pats their head. “I still need to discipline Puppy a bit more. Are you going to be good if I leave you alone?”

Kitty’s heart sinks. Of course Puppy’s still in the basement, that’s why they couldn’t find her anywhere. Maybe they weren’t down there as long as they thought… but their fingers were broken when it started, and they’re healed now. And Puppy’s going to be in the basement even longer.

“It was my fault, Master, please. Let her upstairs. It was my fault. I can- I can take her place.”

They’re bluffing, though to whom they’re not sure. They can’t go back down there, can’t take anymore, even to save Puppy from what must be objectively worse than sitting there with a blindfold and headphones on.

Jane grabs their chin and pulls their face up to hers until they’re nose to nose.

“I’m going to say this once, because I’m feeling fair today. There will be no more negotiating punishments. I’m the only one who decides who gets hurt and how and how long, unless I explicitly tell you to choose. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Are you going to be good if I leave you alone?”

“Yes, Master.”

Jane releases their chin and pats their cheek. “Good Kitty.” She disappears.

Kitty stays kneeling on the ground and takes a few deep breaths. They’ll just eat something real quick and go to bed. Oh, it’ll be so nice to eat real food and lie on something other than concrete.

They slowly stand up onto shaking legs. Puppy will be okay. She’s tough. It’ll be okay. They should just enjoy being out of the basement.

Kitty eats some yogurt. They’d like to eat more, they’re so hungry, but their stomach isn’t used to digesting things yet. Honestly, the yogurt is pushing it after they had the cat food, but they need to taste and smell something nice.

They eat slowly, savoring each bite. It’s too quiet and every noise is too loud. They’re so tired. How can just sitting in the basement with a blindfold and headphones on be so exhausting?

When they finish their yogurt, they go to their room and curl up in bed. They close their eyes and immediately open them again. Too dark. They wish Puppy was here, she always takes care of them after sensory deprivation.

They cringe at the thought. They shouldn’t be wishing Puppy was here for their own sake, she’s being tortured.

A scream rings out from the basement. They cover their ears and quickly uncover them, it’s too much like the headphones. At least it’s not too quiet anymore…

They turn on the lights in their room and open the windows, then lie back down. Now, when they close their eyes, it’s red instead of dark.

Puppy screams. Kitty tries to ignore it. They can’t do anything about it.

It’s… fine. Kitty’ll just play nice for a while, like they always do, and then things will go back to normal.

Oh god. They’re hoping things will go back to normal. That horrible, horrible status quo. They’re hoping for it. They want Bunny back and they want to only have to worry about being obedient instead of being compliant.

They… don’t hope for freedom anymore. Just a slightly more comfortable hell.

They really need some sleep.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @fuzzybucketz

[greyfrey3]

Runaway

Izuku leaves his village one morning, the intention in his heart pure and unwavering. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that it will be the last time he ever lays eyes on his home again.

No more early mornings under a sky painted in golds and pinks. No more sneaking out and borrowing a horse for an afternoon ride. No more evenings curled up, drinking thick stew to warm his bones. He can’t even bring himself to glance back one final time as he crests the hill that will block it from view. He is officially severing ties… forever.

“It’s better this way,” he murmurs quietly, wiping his eyes one last time.

There is a tradition in his village. It takes place after the first heavy snowfall, and is one that he has dreaded for years. The seer gathers all the children who have just come of age, and one by one, reveals the names of their soulmates.

It’s supposed to be fun. After all, a soulmate doesn’t necessarily have to be a lover—they can be a dear friend or relative, someone with whom an instant, deep connection exists. Many of the former children already sense their other half, and the seer is merely confirming what they already knew in their hearts.

For Izuku, however, it was a terrible experience.

“Are you certain?” he asked the seer quietly the evening prior. “Can you check again?”

“It’s Katsuki Bakugou,” she reiterated, brow furrowing. “It doesn’t matter how many times I read the bones, that’s who it is.”

“How?” Izuku whispered quietly. “He hates me. How could we possibly…”

“You’re not the first to express these types of concerns.” She settled a hand atop his. “Some soulmates just need time. If it makes you feel any better, your connection is the deepest I’ve seen in a long while. Your romance will be for the ages, I have no doubt.”

“R-romance!” Izuku choked, covering his rapidly heating face. “That can’t be! You’ve read it wrong!”

“Oh, dear.” She moved her hand to his cheek, patting consolingly. The sympathy didn’t last long. “I’m never wrong. Now get out, please, I still have to read the other’s.”

Izuku staggered out of her tent and then continued to stumble all the way to his own, head spinning as he came up with a plan. It was a death wish to flee by horseback at night, and through a snowstorm no less. But he used yesterday evening to pack the things that would help him survive, readying himself for a life of solitude.

After Katsuki learned the news, there was no way he would want Izuku to stay. He’d be furious, beyond disappointed that he was stuck with Stupid Deku forever. Izuku was doing them both a favor that morning when he slipped out of his home, and left for good.

He just isn’t prepared for how much it hurts as he descends the hill that cuts his village off from his sight. “I’ll find a new home. Far away. Maybe I can’t have a soulmate, but I’m not the first one who hasn’t.”

The first hours pass peacefully. From a young age, he’s been taught how to endure the cold. He’s dressed warmly enough and anticipates no trouble with his journey. But his youthful confidence wanes as the hours pass and he realizes just how difficult it is to wade through inches of snow. He longs for his horse, but knows it would be cruel to bring an animal along that’s not suited.

It’s slow work, but he makes decent progress. Then he starts to shiver. The cold has crept in deep, settling into his bones like an old friend who visits and never intends to leave. It makes Izuku’s jaw chatter, his entire body quaking. After a few more hours, he stops dreaming about stumbling upon a nearby village, and starts to question himself.

Why did he take off now? Why didn’t he wait until spring?

Even the thought of seeing Katsuki’s disappointed face isn’t so bad. Not when there’s a chance he might freeze to death.

When Izuku pulls the food out of his pack and sees that it’s iced over, he realizes he’s made a horrible mistake. His gaze drags towards the horizon, back the way he came. While snow no longer rides the wind, the gusts are getting stronger. Another storm is approaching.

Izuku abandons his plan of running away. It’s midday when he turns back. He won’t reach home before nightfall… But if he doesn’t stop moving, there’s a slim chance he’ll survive this, losing only a few fingers and toes in the process.

A handful of grueling hours later, he sees something. He’s not sure if he’s hallucinating, desperate for another soul to appear in this endless white landscape. He stares for a while at the black dot as it crawls towards him, unsure of whether or not to continue. It takes him too long to recognize the shape—a wolf, and a giant one at that.

Oh no, he thinks, dread gripping him tight. His mouth opens briefly in a silent scream before shutting tightly. Without thinking, and with energy he doesn't even know he had, he turns and runs. There’s a small chance he might survive and return to his village… but not if a hungry wolf gets ahold of him first.

He knows he’s fighting against certain death, that he literally has no chance of winning this. Even in ideal circumstances, he can’t take on a direwolf, let alone wrestling against one when he’s in snow up to his mid-calf. The wolf will down him before he starts to put up a fight, before—

“DEKU!”

Izuku spins and looks over his shoulder. No, there is no mistaking what he heard, and whose voice it rang out in. Katsuki is closing in fast, his direwolf hardly impeded by the drifts in its way.

Katsuki sounds angry.

Now Izuku’s running for a different reason.

When Katsuki is mad at him, Izuku knows the best course of action is to get away. It’s worked as a useful tool in the past, helping him to avoid any quarrels. Today, he has no shot. Katsuki and his wolf are at least five times faster than he is. After a few minutes of Izuku scrambling frantically, they cut him off, planting themselves directly in front of him.

“Deku, what the hell?!”

A strangled noise dies in Izuku’s throat. He scrambles to the side in a wild, desperate attempt to go around them. Katsuki snaps an order and the wolf grabs Izuku by his pack, suspending him in the air.

Katsuki dismounts and stomps in front of him. He commences shouting at the top of his lungs. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?! What kind of idiot heads out in a storm?! What was your stupid ass plan?! Are you suicidal or just a complete moron?!”

Izuku winces as he meets Katsuki’s furious gaze. If looks could kill, he’d be a ghost already. The wind kicks up again and he shudders.

Katsuki’s eyes narrow. The next shout is still angry, but there’s a touch of concern in it, too. “You’re done running, right?!”

Izuku nods dumbly.

Clicking his tongue loudly in annoyance, Katsuki growls out another order to his wolf. She obediently lowers Izuku to the ground. The blonde wastes no time, closing the distance between them immediately. He raises his hand and Izuku squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable slap to the face.

Instead, Katsuki brushes the snow from his hat and wipes the frost from his eyelashes. “You look half-dead,” he informs Izuku sourly. “You’ve got ice all over you. If I was any later finding you…”

“Wh-wh-why are y-y—”

“Save it.” Katsuki covers his mouth with his gloved hand. It’s a good thing he does because there’s a sharp ache in Izuku’s jaw when he talks.

The blonde helps him on the back of the direwolf. More gently than he’s come to expect from him, Katsuki wraps Izuku in some blankets. He also passes him a large mug of still-warm butter tea before he slides into place behind him.

“We’ll have to check your limbs when we get back. No telling what sort of damage you have, you absolute idiot,” he mutters bitterly, arms sliding around Izuku’s waist. “Hold on tight. Let’s go, Akela.”

Izuku doesn’t so much hold onto anything as he is secured in place. Katsuki is gripping him so tightly, he couldn’t fall off if he tried.

It takes a while to warm up enough to speak, and when he does, the first thing that falls out of Izuku’s mouth is an apology. “I’m s-sorry, Kacchan.”

“You should be,” he replies gruffly. “Can’t believe you just snuck off without saying a word.”

Izuku’s mouth, unseen beneath his neck gaiter, twists into a frown. “I kn-know I’m a d-disappointment. You don’t want to be s-soulmates—”

“What?” The arms around his waist squeeze the air out of Izuku’s lungs. “Who said I didn’t want to be soulmates?!”

Even though they’re moving, Katsuki shifts to the side so he can get a clear view of Izuku’s face. The expression he’s wearing is one of stunned disbelief.

“It always s-seemed like you hated me,” Izuku tells him plainly. That’s how he’s interpreted it, anyway.

Katsuki moves back, sinking into silence. The trip back to the village passes quickly and quietly. Izuku is hyper focused on the man behind him, but he gives nothing away until the village is almost within sight.

“I looked for you, you know,” Katsuki tells him, leaning forward to murmur directly into his ear. “You left immediately, so I thought you didn’t want me either… I decided to give you some space. Didn’t realize until a few hours ago that you ran away.”

Katsuki speaks so quietly it’s difficult to hear him over the howling wind. Still, Izuku concentrates with all he has. “I’ve never hated you. I just… don’t know how to express myself sometimes. I tend to push away the people I want to spend time with. The people I need the most. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Izuku thinks he understands, and if he manages to thaw sometime in the next few days, maybe he’ll work up the courage to talk to Katsuki about it.

“I was excited to hear the news that you’re my soulmate, Izuku. I know you probably can’t believe that. I was so happy,” he explains, his words heating up, impassioned. He pulls Izuku flush against him. “And then I was scared. Fucking terrified. Because you were gone.”

Izuku is having trouble processing it all. It’s everything he’s wanted since he first learned about soulmates and thought ‘I hope Kacchan is mine.’ That was almost twelve years ago, when he was four. After that, they faced hardship after hardship—it tore them apart, made him believe that Katsuki wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Despite that, never once did his heart waver.

Deep down, he always held onto that hope. Hope that Katsuki would remember how close they used to be. Hope that one day he would let Izuku through that wall he’d built up.

Hope that they would end up together, when all was said and done.

“You mean it?” he asks quietly. The question comes out shaky, like a newborn robin taking wing for the first time. The first sign of a warm spring to come, of that hope blossoming into something real.

“You make me happy, Izuku. I’m the luckiest in the world,” he breathes into Izuku’s ear. “And I’ll make it all up to you, okay? Starting now. So don’t… don’t run away again. I don’t think I could take it.”

“I won’t,” Izuku promises.

Katsuki pats Akela on the back once, urging her to move faster over that last hillcrest. “Let’s go warm you up.”

[useless-fanfictions]

Awkward Teenage Crush Kiss | Hevans

Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans Fandom: Glee Rating: Teens+ Tags: awkward kiss, crushes, fluff 3336 words | 1/1 chapter | completed Ao3 Link

Summary: {Anonymous Prompt: I’d love to read a Heavans 38 Kiss (Awkward teenage crush kiss)} Or, Sam Evans has a crush on Kurt and he doesn't think Kurt knows about it. Spoiler alert, Kurt most definitely knows.

1

Sam most definitely does not have an issue. Nope. Definitely not. 

He doesn’t watch the way the drumstick twirls expertly between slim fingers and he most definitely does not watch the muscles and tendons in the arm twitch and bulge with the movement of said drumstick. He doesn’t because he doesn’t have an issue at all – it’s that simple.

Sam crosses his arms and shifts on his feet, so entirely thankful of the distraction that Rachel offers the group. Apparently now she’s not getting a nose job – which Sam never saw the problem with (if it didn’t harm her or anyone else, who where they to tell her that she shouldn’t?) – and Sam is glad that she’s choosing this moment to announce it.

Especially because it gives Sam more time to not stare at Kurt’s slim waist, cocked hip, and almost bored expression. Gah, how much that looks stirs something inside of Sam is kind of ridiculous.

“Sam?” Mike is cocking his head and before Sam can focus on his buddy, Mike is following his line of sight.

“Oh,” is all Mike says. The tall Asian man claps him on the shoulder and gives him a pitied look.

Sam jerks back because he doesn’t know what that means at all, but he doesn’t want Mike to be assuming things. He wasn’t staring at Kurt or watching the way his hair sways when he moves because it’s standing up and sexily – artfully – tousled. He doesn’t want Mike reading into things that aren’t there.

This isn’t the first time since Kurt transferred back that Sam has had to try to bullshit himself about his feelings.

The feelings that he’s still trying to convince himself that don’t exist are the same ones that keep his heart thrumming quickly against his sternum every time the other boy comes into the room and the same ones that keep him up all night. Fantasies, both light-hearted sweet and dirty, keep him up and make him tired for school the next day, but he doesn’t have it in him to get upset at himself. He’s been trying to come around to this whole new set of feelings that seem to have just been plopped into his lap.

The glee club walks off stage. Now that Rachel is here, they will be running through the Lady Gaga routine. They’ve got it near-perfect, and this is the first dress rehearsal – which, as far as Sam can tell, is them making great progress.

“Look,” Sam catches Mike’s arm, stopping the other teen from following the rest of the group in. Sam waits until Artie has rolled off stage until he drops his voice to a whisper, eyes scanning the room to see if they’re being listened to or not, “I don’t know what you think you saw, but bro-“

Mike interrupts him, “You’re in denial still?”

“What?” he asks dumbly.

Mike glances up to where Sam knows – has no idea actually, because he hadn’t been watching him – Kurt is and then looks back at Sam. “I went through the same thing, Tina helped me figure it out and she’s been really supportive. So all I’m saying is that I get it.”

Sam may be a little slow to grasp things sometimes, but is Mike saying what he thinks he’s saying? “What?” he asks again because he’s not sure what else to say.

“Come on, guys,” Mr. Schuester ushers the two of them off the stage the rest of the way.

“I’m here if you need,” Mike smiles politely at him and goes over to his girlfriend and wraps his arms around her in a tight but quick hug. Then Tina, Mercedes, and Kurt are marching past Sam to go back onto the stage – oh right, they start the number. 

Sam tries to watch the performance as innocently as everyone else does until his cue pulls him out onto the stage with the rest of his friends.

2

Two days later, the glee club master the “Born This Way” performance and then they are back in the choir room and Mr. Schue is giving out the newest lesson. Sam is only partially paying attention because it is getting to the end of the school year and spring is in full swing (with the summer heat right on its tail) and the choir room has always had poor circulation meaning they froze in the winter and now that it’s warming up everyone is quick to shed their layers – including Kurt.

Dressed down to just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Sam can’t help but notice how different he is from the boy who left McKinley earlier this year. He had been shorter and way skinnier (Sam realizes now that he must not have been eating properly) and now that he’s grown and filled out a little bit, people can’t help but notice him when he walks into a room. Especially today with his pale arms and long neck on full display.

The week’s lesson is a simple touch-up on the group’s choreography because Schue says something about not wanting to start anything too strong when they are getting close to when they should start preparing for nationals.

He then uses Kurt to demonstrate a few of their known moves and Sam’s in his own personal hell because he should be watching the way Kurt keeps his back straight and poised while he spins and how his foot flexes and keeps a perfect point outwards when he kicks his leg into the air, not the way the tendons in his neck flex when he bends down or the way his pants hug his ass and crotch so perfectly as if he’d chosen them for that very reason.

Sam’s mouth floods with saliva when he thinks about what those pants are hiding, and he feels like a disgusting predator. Kurt had just gotten back to his school and friends after needing to escape from an abusive closeted gay boy – what the hell is Sam thinking that he’s doing?

But then Kurt finished the short set of moves with a flick of his hair, standing more up from his face than laying relaxed on his forehead like Sam remembers it from before. And Sam knows that he loves Kurt’s hair, he’s not sure why, but it’s one of the many attractive things about this boy-

Someone aggressively kicks his chair. He jerks forward and almost falls out of it and onto the floor.

“What the-“ he turns and sees Mike glaring at him.

“I asked you a question, Sam,” Mr. Schue is saying, pulling Sam’s attention from the other football player.

“Oh,” Sam rubs his hands together nervously and flicks his eyes around the room, they’re all staring at him and he doesn’t even want to know what they’re thinking.

Wonderful for him that Puck can’t keep a single thought to himself. “Yeah, so stop daydreaming about Doll Face over there and pay attention.”

There are a couple of people who laugh and snicker and Sam feels his face heat up in embarrassment. When he looks up again, he catches Kurt’s confused gaze and oh God, the last thing he wants is for Kurt to find out.

“What uh- was the question?” Sam clears his throat and asks.

“Oh, I was just wondering if you could come up here and show us another few moves.”

Sam agrees and stands up to walk to the front of the room while Kurt returns to his seat. He’s sure that his blush doesn’t go away for the rest of the class period and he is unable to meet anyone’s eyes after.

3

Of all people to catch him after class, it just has to be Kurt.

Sam has been trying to convince him for weeks now that what he’s been feeling is just some stupid crush (something less than that, even) and every time he thinks he’s getting better – he’s sleeping easily and holding conversations with the boy without embarrassing himself – it just has to be Puck that unravels it all.

“I know Puck can be a dick sometimes,” Kurt is saying to him while they walk out of the choir room. They share the next class but usually Sam takes the long way around so he can avoid panting after Kurt the entire walk.

“But he got me thinking,” Kurt continues. “You have been watching me a lot lately, haven’t you?”

“I uh…” Sam is screwed.

They are walking close together (Sam tells himself that it’s because the hallway is crowded and so they have to walk this close in order to hear each other and to not get trampled) and Kurt is watching him with piercing blue eyes. He holds his chin out and shoulders back, so much confidence oozes from him.

“It’s okay,” Kurt says when Sam doesn’t talk for a few seconds.

Sam holds his breath, waiting for the other shoe (in the form of Kurt’s patronizing kindness and speech about how he just shouldn’t be so obvious about his crush) to drop and stomp on Sam’s fingers that are barely holding him to the ledge of this cliff above the endless waters of self-consciousness and awkwardness that he is about to be surrendered to.

“Okay?” Sam echoes in disbelief.

“Yeah, I mean- I don’t really know for sure why you have been, but regardless, it’s flattering.”

Sam watches Kurt’s usually pale and ceramic cheeks tint pink as he ducks his head and watches his feet for a few steps. This confuses Sam more than his words have – what the hell does Kurt have to be embarrassed for? It’s Sam with the silly crush here, not him.

“Is it flattering or creepy?” Sam asks because he has to, he has to know that he hasn’t come off as too strong at all or it won’t let him sleep.

“You think someone having a crush is creepy?” Kurt stops abruptly and turns to look at Sam head on.

The shorter boy’s abruptness shocks Sam into an honest answer, “What- who said I had a crush on you?”

It came out a little rougher than he meant to, but he was sure that “watching someone” and “having a crush on someone” were two different types of attraction and Sam hasn’t even figured out if he’s into all guys yet. And since he’s pretty sure there is no sexuality dedicated to just being attracted to Kurt Hummel, it has been taking him a while to figure things out. So, the part of himself that he’s been trying to keep hidden and protected for a few weeks now panicked and snapped out the question instead of using the reasoning tone like he had been planning on.

“I- oh.” Kurt says at first, meeting his eyes for only a second before he rocks on his feet nervously and looks at the ground again. “I just thought- uh, well I hoped, actually, that maybe you did.”

“You- wait,” Sam’s hands shake while his head rushes as his brain processes what he just said. “You hoped?”

A smile graces Kurt’s mouth and Sam loves it so much, and the blush that grows darker as he scuffs his feet on the tiled floor. The hallway is emptying out and the bell that will signal their tardiness is going to ring soon and Sam doesn’t think there has been anything else that he cares less about. There is this warmth blooming in his chest and shit- maybe this is a little more than a simple crush.

“Y-yeah,” Kurt breathes, he looks up and his smile grows at the obvious hope mirrored on Sam’s face. His shoulder lifts in a casual shrug. “I was hoping that you liked me, too.”

Too. Sam’s heart skids almost-painfully in his chest and he gasps at the word, all of his emotions plainly broadcasted on his face.

“Uh,” Sam is grasping at what to say next. Kurt’s cheeky grin shares that he knows that Sam likes him too and is now just being awkward, but Sam has no idea what to do or say. “I don’t really know how to- umm…” Sam breaks off in an awkward laugh and rubs the back of his neck.

“You don’t know how to what?” Kurt tries. His hand raises halfway between the two of them, like he was going to touch Sam but thought against it, and then he glares at the limb as if it offended him before dropping it to his side again.

“I don’t know what to say- like, I want you to know that I do like you, but I’m just not sure how-“

“But you do like me?”

“Yes,” Sam confirms.

If Sam thought his simple grin was cute, then it is nothing for the breath-takingly beautiful way he smiles wide enough to show his teeth and crinkle his eyes. His entire face lights up with joy, and Sam’s not sure when he stopped breathing because the sight makes him gasp and the rush of oxygen is almost euphoric.

“Are you serious?” Kurt asks, trying to get his expression under control and take on a serious tone.

When Sam grins, though, he gets to see his pretty smile once more.

Part of him cannot believe that they just admitted to something like this and are now staring at each other like goofy idiots in the middle of an otherwise abandoned hallway (the bell must have rung already but neither of them are making a move towards the classroom still). Sam doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Of course.”

“Well then, now what?” Kurt asks and one of his eyebrows quirk up and Sam finds it so incredibly adorable. Okay, so maybe he isn’t trying to pretend like nothing is going on – but at least it is no longer a problem.

“I don’t-“ he starts, but then something occurs to him. There is one thing that he wants to do, something that he’s been thinking about for a while and now he might have the opportunity to do. “Oh, uh, can I kiss you?” Sam asks hurriedly.

“Right here?” Kurt looks around.

Sam sees that there is no one else except them, their voices echo a little bit even. All of the surrounding classroom doors are closed and they aren’t standing in the view of any of them anyways. “Why not?”

“Uhh…” Kurt glances down at his hands again and then back up. “I don’t know how- and I know you’ve kissed a lot-“

Sam is quick to amend him, “but never another boy. I’m just as nervous,” he sticks his hand out and they both look down to watch it shake a little. Sam feels like a strong wind could knock him down with how weak-kneed he feels.

“I mean, sure- yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, please?”

Sam laughs, a genuine laugh, and rocks back and forth on his feet a little bit. He rubs his palms on his thighs, drying the sweat from them, and licks his lips nervously. Also looks a little nervous and he licks his lips after watching Sam first.

“Yeah, right- so…” Sam mumbles before starting to lean down.

Kurt takes a tiny step forward so that they are standing a lot closer than Sam had anticipated and he accidently smacks their foreheads together. They spring apart instantly.

“Ouch,” Kurt breathes and brings a hand up to his head.

Sam mentally curses himself out. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay, Sam,” Kurt giggles and tilts his chin up and levels the tall blonde with another stare.

“Oh- uh, okay.”

Sam leans down again, this time keeping his eyes open enough to watch what he’s doing more. Then he gets close enough and he can’t keep his eyes open without going cross-eyed (which hurts his head, so he’d rather not do that) and so he slips them closed. Then their lips connect.

It’s only for a split second and then Kurt is pulling back.

Sam opens his eyes and his eyebrows shuffle down in confusion. But before he can even full wonder why Kurt pulled away so quickly, the boy is speaking.

“Oh God, was that too quick? I wasn’t sure what we were doing, and I thought it was gonna be a quick kiss, but I’m so sorry I-“

Sam’s laughter cuts him off. How can Kurt, who is usually so confident and sure of himself, be so freaking self-conscious now? Sam finds it endearing, actually, that his nervous and awkwardness are evenly matched here.

“You’re adorable,” he says. He slowly picks up a hand and holds it up to Kurt’s face, giving him ample time to pull away if he’d wished to, he doesn’t. So, Sam cups Kurt’s jaw and pulls the boy in for another, longer kiss.

When their lips touch Sam realizes that it really isn’t much different from kissing a girl (what with how soft and nice to touch Kurt’s skin and lips are) and he knows how to kiss a girl, so he presses his lips in a little harder before turning his head to the side to better slot their mouths together.

It turns out that Kurt doesn’t really know what he’s doing so Sam keeps it sweet and brief. Their lips make a wet suction sound when they separate. Sam watches Kurt’s eyes flutter open and he is still so beautiful up this close.

When Sam straightens up fully, ignoring the way his back pops in like ten different places, Kurt squints at him. “What?” he asks.

“That’s it?” Kurt grumps.

Sam genuinely laughs and, much more gently this time, presses his foreheads together. “We have to get to cl-“

Kurt sneaks in for another sweet press of their lips and Sam feels hands on his waist and the warm weight of them is one of the best feelings he’s ever felt.

But it only lasts for a second before all of him is gone and he’s standing a few steps ahead of Sam, walking in the direction of the class that they are now tardy for.

“You’re right,” he calls over his shoulder, his voice bouncing around the empty hallway. “We should get to class!”

Sam laughs and chases after Kurt.

He’s not sure if this makes them boyfriends or not, nor does it help him figure out the puzzle that still is his sexuality, but it still does matter to Sam. And it matters to Kurt if the way that he’s walking lighter and grinning much easier says anything. They’ll talk about it eventually, but for now, he’s just going to remember the feeling of the boy’s lips against his own.

Sam almost forgets that they share this class with a couple of other glee kids and so when they walk inside and he meets Mike’s eyes after accepting his tardy from the teacher, he is a little shaken. He watches Mike’s eyes flit back and forth between Sam and Kurt before raising an eyebrow at Sam when the pair of boys take their seats. Sam just shrugs he knows that his blush tells the whole story.

Later that hour, he gets a note passed to him and reads:

you will be telling me everything after class -mike

Sam grins and tucks the note into the folder that he had and pays attention to class. He’s sure that by glee club tomorrow, the whole group will know that something is going on and Sam doesn’t have it in him to be mad at how quickly gossip spreads.

And if Sam is out of his seat the moment the bell rings so that he can be at Kurt’s side quickly, then that’s what he does. Now that Kurt knows, Sam isn’t going to hold back anymore (within reason, of course). As much as he doesn’t care about the gossip, he doesn’t care about the jokes that get tossed around for the rest of the year about Kurt having an oversized golden Labrador retriever puppy following him constantly.

[andro-dino]

alright, I am a weak-willed man, so here are some ian/aleksei ideas because I’ve been thinking about them far more than I should be

- they are both massive nerds. ian specifically takes a lot of interest in engineering and has a bunch of experience taking things apart and putting them back together to figure out how they work, but not much working with the actual precise tech kind of stuff, so when he sees all of aleksei’s fancy computer and tech stuff, he’s absolutely over the moon.

- aleksei really enjoys teaching him about some of the finer ins and outs of everything and watching him get the hang of it. i think it’s definitely one of the biggest things they bond over at first.

- I think aleksei would very slowly and gradually fall for Ian. he’s intrigued by him at first but it takes a while for it to develop into romantic feelings, and even longer for him to realize that that’s what it is. Ian on the other hand, while slow at first, doesn’t take much time getting a massive crush on aleksei. He gets a angry with himself about it and every time he thinks about it, will get really flustered and frustrated over it

- ian heard about all the tricks Lovushka pulled during the world tournament and is so excited to potentially have found another partner in crime, only to be immensely disappointed when he finds out that aleksei isn’t really all that into it. although he does get along surprisingly well with lera on that note. I think they would make fun of each other and banter a lot but they don’t actually dislike each other, and only tell aleksei that when the other isn’t around

- I honestly don’t know how the other garcias would feel about aleksei. I like to think they would have an overprotective sibling thing with anyone that anyone of them takes interest in but besides that, I dunno. I think it would be funny if they didn’t like him solely on vibes alone but ended up being kinda ok with him after seeing that Ian genuinely liked him.

- Ian likes to steal aleksei’s glasses to tease him but only upon putting them on does he realize that he actually needs glasses himself. he does not get glasses for a very long time however. instead, if he needs to read something while he’s with aleksei, he’ll just grab them straight off of aleksei’s face for a bit and then give them back without saying anything. aleksei has given up trying to stop this

- Ian likes messing with aleksei’s hair a lot. this will sometimes startle aleksei though because Ian will just straight up grab his entire head without warning

- ian could pick aleksei up like a sack of potatoes if he really wanted to and I find that fun. I think he would enjoy just picking him up and tossing him around at random times.

- lera makes fun of aleksei’s taste in partners and only doubles down on this for ian. she’s absolutely astounded how he managed to fall for someone who’s simultaneously a nerd while still being incredibly dumb.

- yk I think it’d be funny if aleksei didn’t legitimately know how to flirt with people. he has enough natural charm to him that he can get by but besides just bonding by shared interest, he has no idea how romance works. Ian I don’t think would notice this at first but he starts to pick up on it over time and teases aleksei a little bit about it. he does find it kinda cute though

- thinking abt these two staying together through shogun steel is really funny to me. i like to think that when the garcias were first setting up dna and everything, Ian would call aleksei and talk about the progress they were making, but it never fully occurred to aleksei what they were doing. he kinda just thought they were setting up some cool tech stuff or smth

- my personal hc is that while obviously Argo and merci-doji did a lot of the main work, Ian also helped design a lot of the dna beys and I think it’d be fun if he sent ideas to aleksei to see if he had any input on it

- aleksei doesn’t realize what all actually happened until like, he talks with Madoka one time (because I think they’d still catch up from time to time in the future) and she mentions it and aleksei just has a “wait it THAT what Ian was doing with the designs he was talking about?” moment and Madoka is just absolutely dumbfounded

- “how did you not realize that you were helping them with their evil organization???”

“I dont know! I thought it was just a fun side project or something!”

[tiffanylamps]

one line any fic! rules: pick ten of your fics, scroll to somewhere midpoint, pick a line chunk and share it, and then tag ten people.

Tagged by @b1uetrees!! Thanks so much for the tag, it's taken a wee while to get around to doing it but we are here!! I actually only have 14 "proper" fics published, so this wasn't too difficult to do haha. I'm going to post the lines in chronological order (of when the fics were published) and perhaps, we might see a progression of some sort 😊

Also, if I tag you and you have less than 10 fics, I would love to see wips/orginal work 👀👀 maybe?? 👀 either way, no pressure tags: @l-tyrell @foolishmortal @citrinekay @fire-burning-brighter

Indoctrination line taken from the mid-point of chapter 2. The men in front of him frown as he switched to speaking in English without realising. Joo Won’s eyes flicker to Dong Sik, there was that warm look again, stirring Joo Won to conclude his point. “This isn’t a classroom- it’s a police station. A functioning filing system is paramount. Detailed and factually correct reports without spelling mistakes are paramount! I shouldn’t be spending hours of my time correcting your mistakes.” 

“Aish, Lee Dong Sik, is he like this all the time?” 

Joo Won felt a bark of unbridled laughter pass his lips, causing the men around him to still. Gil Goo and Gwang Young eye the younger man with suspicion, whereas Dong Sik has turned his face away; his lips twisting into something filthy. 

Drone Bomb Me Suddenly, his arm is being snatched and his body spun. He goes with it, knowing where his destination will be but it still hurts when this cheekbone is planted harshly against the table. He hopes it bruises. His arm is restrained against his back while Joo Won’s other hand is splayed between his shoulder blades. “What the fuck are you doing?” Joo Won pants against his ear and god, it ignites a fire in Dong Sik’s belly.

take my name Instead, he scoffs and takes Dong Sik's glass from his hand, and sips on his wine. As he swallows, his body throbs under the gaze of Dong Sik's ever-eager, ever-tantalising eyes, watching Joo Won's throat bob as if he intends on ruining it. That's most certainly not helping matters. Blushing, Joo Won grumbles quietly: “You read too many novels.”

Dong Sik chuckles and pokes his cheek, “and you don’t read enough.”

your blessed hands “Ah, that’s a shame. Suppose it worked out for the best now, means you can finally-”

“Stop. Don’t do that,” he softens his voice to the sincere hum of a heart that aches for forgiveness. “You know I asked to be transferred more than once. But we also agreed to put it off until we knew what was happening with the house-”

“Ah, so it’s still my fault.” Dong Sik laughs that awful fake laugh, it bounces high and unnatural against the bathroom tiles, breaking Joo Won apart.  In Another Moment With an exasperated sigh and feeling more turned on than ever before, Joo Won snatches this difficult man by the wrist. He keeps eye contact as he works his mouth to produce enough of an offering to impress. Dong Sik doesn’t seem to be breathing. Joo Won stares as he spits long and slow - dribbling and drooling - in the other man’s hand. It’s all complete nonsense… but Dong Sik still bites his lip, wholly enthralled by Joo Won’s borderline licentious display.

Oh, Dong Sik might just kill him. courage to make love known With a huff and a resentful glare, Joo Won decides to give in. The speakers fizzle alive and the room seems to darken as the sound of a mid-tempo piano melody plays through. A part of Jae Yi prickles as she recognises the song but cannot place where from. It sounds dated as if it were from a different decade and definitely not Korean. Perhaps, it's something her dad used to listen to. The shrill power ballad consists of an electric guitar ringing out as it compliments the overall melody of the piece. Which swells and intensifies, building almost like a grand reveal; the drums heighten the anticipation until-

Han Joo Won sings. to a nightingale Dong Sik even lets Joo Won adjust his aching legs, biting his lip hard as they’re lifted to the safety of broad shoulders. His hips scream in protest as his knees are pushed to his chest. But that doesn’t stop him from allowing his hunter to clutch at his neck with eager fingers, either trying to check his pulse or take his last breath. He’s not sure which it is but he moans with pleasure as his young lover squeezes down. “I won’t let anyone else have you,” Joo Won grits out through clenched teeth; his eyes blazed with something feral that might suffocate them both. 

There are worse ways to die. 

Snippets [scrapped wips. "chapter 1": pining joo won] The cool air hits his tired body with an unsatisfactory hollowness that he doesn't want to dissect. He rises slowly, never having it within him to yank the metaphorical plaster off in one clean swipe. As of late, he’s always the first to breach the day, even though Dong Sik awakes before him. He silently collects his things and doesn't mention that he knows the older man watches him. Without so much of a glance, he'll go to the bathroom, clean up, and get dressed before saying his goodbyes. In that time, Dong Sik would have gotten up and changed into something temporary before he strips the sheets.  the threshold of the year "Joo Won-ah," Dong Sik's voice trembles. Joo Won pauses in the doorway and is kind enough not to make it too obvious that he can see just how much Dong Sik is struggling.

He can't lose him, he can't- not Joo Won. He can't. "I love you too." 

Now, a sneak peak of the next chapter of: not truly one, but truly two

Right now seems like the wrong time to garner into his comprehension, the amber-like qualities within this creature’s eyes. There’s a spark and a hint of intelligence within their autumn day haze. They search Joo Won’s own polished tourmaline irises, which are so dark that in the hotel room’s low lighting, it is almost impossible to detect the pupil. But the vampire’s heavy gaze suddenly alters from searching to a plethora of mockery: utterly deviant and overcome with a self-serving mischievousness.

There you go! Thanks again and I hope you enjoyed this 💛💛

[bookloveravenue]

Defy the Night (book 2): Defend the Dawn by Brigid Kemmerer

New York Times bestselling author Brigid Kemmerer continues her electrifying series with more intrigue, romance, and heart-stopping adventure.

The kingdom of Kandala narrowly avoided catastrophe, but the embers of revolution still simmer. While King Harristan seeks a new way to lead, Tessa and Prince Corrick attempt to foster unity between rebels and royals.

But the consuls who control the Moonflower will not back down, and Corrick realizes he must find a new source for the lifesaving Elixir. When an emissary from the neighboring kingdom of Ostriary arrives with an intriguing offer, Tessa and Corrick set out on an uncertain journey as they attempt to mend their own fractured relationship. This could be their only chance to keep the peace and bring relief to the people of Kandala, but danger strikes during the journey to Ostriary, and no one is who they claimed to be. . .

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60243154-defend-the-dawn

********

September 29, 2022

My Review: 5/5 Stars

Wow. People weren't kidding about that cliffhanger! That was pretty brutal! So another great book by Brigid Kemmerer! I loved Defy the Night so I was happy to hear there was a sequel. And after reading Defend the Dawn, there's gotta be another one after that! So much happened in this book. Lots of twists and turns. So the book picks up not too long after the last one. Corrick, Tessa, and Harristan are trying to make peace with the rebels and find a way to provide everyone with medicine. But it isn't as easy as one would think. The progress is slow. Not just for the rebels but for Tessa too. Even Harristan and Corrick are frustrated but they know that is just how things are. Nothing can be done so quickly. Then to make more matters more complicated, a man arrives from Ostriary claiming to mend the relationship between the two countries and it can help both countries in the end. Tessa and Corrick soon find themselves on a ship to the country. But their journey there is anything but simple. This story started a bit slow for me but it picked up halfway through. Tessa and Corrick are going through some ups and downs as they try to figure out their relationship. And with so much conflict and uncertainty, it's hard to figure out who to trust. When we aren't reading about Tessa and Corrick, we get a surprise point of view from someone back in Kandala. Loved that little twist to the story! But by the end of this book, things have blown up on the sea and on land, and I cannot wait to see how it all plays out.