#it wasn’t particularly bad but it shook me up mentally | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

endereies · 7 months ago

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ONE MORE DAY

Pairing: Matt x Reader

Contains: Mentions of self-harm, mentions of suicide, mentions of depression and anxiety, happy ending, heavy angst - sorry not sorry

Requested?: no

Author's notes: I really enjoyed writing this, especially with sad music like take care or duster playing. that shit hits.

Word Count: 3954

Dealing with mental health wasn’t a new situation in your relationship with Matt. He has had anxiety problems since he was 11 and has always been open about it, whether that was to his family or to his fans. However, that was a skill that you lacked.

Matt was always talking to you whenever he felt anxious in a situation, finding that his concerns seemed to lessen when he was around you. He had often silently latched on to your hand in a public environment as he focused on the warmth between your palms.

He confided in you after a stressful day of filming and taking pictures addressing how he particularly felt in each moment.

And you would always accept these small rants of anxious build up because you didn’t want him to feel the same way that you did.

You had internally struggled with your own anxiety for a few years, more recently symptoms of depression.

You never told Matt about any of this, not that you didn’t trust him with the information, you just didn’t want to overbear him when he had his own anxiety to manage.

You blamed yourself for selfish thoughts whenever he felt anxious at the same times as you, often relying on the same hand holding that he did to simultaneously calm you both down.

Over these years of having anxiety, you learnt what your tells were when feeling anxiety build up inside and tried to hide them whenever you could. And when you couldn’t? You’d hide in your room and cancel plans until that overbearing feeling went away.

This type of day had grown to be typical for you, one that consisted of a growing pit in your stomach caused by emotions you no longer felt in control of. You were left in your bed scratching at your wrists, the actions only growing harder the more you couldn’t satisfy the ‘itch’ that tore through under your skin. One left behind from previous nights.

As much as anxiety wasn’t a new feeling to you, your self-harm methods were. Of course, you had known about it, and how bad it was to deal with. The addiction of the lines that changed colour the more the razor dug into the flesh, or the harshness of reality that stepped in and out of your mind. It wasn’t enough to deter you and last night you gave in once more. Wanting to feel something else consistently other than that pit that sunk more every day.

The feeling was addictive, but it grew harder to hide from people, especially Matt. The constant handholding or affection made you paranoid and so you pulled back from him. You didn’t want him to find out.

The more you pulled back, however, the more that Matt grew concerned.

You had overheard him talking to Chris and Nick about how he thought you were starting to fall out of love with him, but to you those accusations couldn’t be further from the truth. To you Matt was a break from that feeling, making you smile subconsciously on days when all you wanted to do was turn off from everything. It was selfish the amount of time you craved with him, selfish the amount of things you wouldn’t tell him, selfish the number of times you cancelled plans made in advance over something you desperately needed to control.

But as much as you loved him, and had tried to privately talk to professionals, this feeling grew way more than you had ever wanted, and it had begun to wear you and others down.

“Are you cancelling again, y/n? We’ve had this day planned for a week now.” Matt voice was tainted with disappointment, and it took me a while before I got the courage to respond to him.

“I’m sorry Matt, something just came up and it’s urgent.” My breathe shook after I had finished, hating the more lies I had created the last month.

“Can I at least come over tomorrow..?” As much as I didn’t want to, I felt like I needed to see him, in a hope that I would feel somewhat better.

“Yeah, course..” And with that I hung up the phone, before either of us got another chance to speak.

That night I got to writing, the mood from earlier spilling over my brain and into my tears that were evident on the paper. The words were messy but said all I needed them to. I just hoped that whoever read it, understood all I was ever silently saying to them. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough.

After a rough night’s sleep and a few hours in bed I dragged myself out of it and towards the shower. I sighed once my skin made contact with the water trying to relax my arm under the sting of the water pressure.

I made sure not to spend more time than I had to in the shower, needing enough time to get dressed and get something to eat before Matt arrived.

The outfit didn’t seem like much, but it did hide a lot more. I grabbed an old hoodie and tossed it over a plain black t-shirt. The sweatpants I threw on matched my shirt and hung loosely on my hips.

Dishes has started to stack up in my sink, but I wasn’t prepared to wash them all and I was thankful that Matt never minded, as long as we were able to talk with one another. The food I picked out was just a small bowl of cereal that I have had for several days now but it was one of the only foods I was okay with eating. I felt too tired to finish the bowl and simply abandoned it next to the identical unfinished bowl over by the sink.

It wasn’t long before I heard a knock at my front door, and I instantly knew it was Matt. I gathered my mind and opened the door for him with a smile on my face.

“Hey baby, how was the ride over?” I shut the door behind him after he enters to lean on the door to take off his shoes.

“Traffic was okay, I’m just glad I get to see you again” As much as I know he meant well, his words stung a bit and made my heart drop slightly. Luckily, his back was still facing me, and he couldn’t see it happen.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you yesterday” Matt’s body faces mine once he pushes his shoes to the side and walks towards me with a meek smile displayed on his face.

“y/n, it’s okay, things come up. I get it.” He put his arm around my waist and rubs my waist lightly, just caressing the skin underneath, I pull away as quick as the touch begin and I feel his touch linger onto my skin, making my guilt apparent.

I wander around the kitchen for a moment, thinking of an excuse for leaving Matt until my eyes fall onto a selection of sodas and drinks.

“Want anything to eat or drink at all..?” my fingers trace the glass bottles slowly before landing onto the cans and picking a Pepsi.

“I’ll have a Pepsi with you, baby.” I smile as I hand him a Pepsi with my free arm and taking it back once I realise, I wasn’t watching how far my sleeve went up. I was grateful that he wasn’t paying any attention.

It had been an hour since Matt arrived and we had settled on watching a film, one that Matt had picked out several times before, but we never got bored of it. My duvet covers were shifted around to place both Matt and I underneath for comfort, but I took it as an opportunity for Matt to get close to me without being consumed with paranoia.

His fingers tangled in my hair and gently rubbing my scalp nearly nulled me to sleep. I felt safe enough to relax my body for the first time in over a week and my body ached after being tense for so long.

The feeling of his fingers stroking my hair brought me back to my childhood, one where I felt safely vulnerable in front of my mother who allowed me to watch cartoons while she braided my hair. Moments like these took away from the stress of those previous weeks.

“Do you want me to brush your hair, pretty girl?” I look up at him and weakly nod, feeling a little tired from him stroking my hair.

I have always loved when he plays with my hair and it became a token of affection after long days, and often I would return the favour whenever he asked.

He nods at me with a slight hum for a response before his body shifts under the covers. I sit up and lean off of his chest so that he can leave the bed. I take his place in the bed soon after just so that I can retain the warmth he left behind.

I notice him walking over to my desk and resting his wrists against the top of my chair as support while he scans it for my brush. I don’t pay any attention to it until he moves a drawer, not being able to locate it.

“Baby? It might be in the spare room; I was tidying there in there a while ago.” I try not to mumble within the tiredness I felt and offer him a small smile which he reciprocates.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a second then, want to pause the film?” I only nod in response, looking on the pillows for the remote to pause the show and once it does, Matt disappears to the hallway.

Matt’s Pov:

The spare room door was already open, and I simply pushed it open to glance into the room, the door was immediately put to a halt when it hit a box behind it. Luckily, I had enough of a gap to go through but I was met with more boxes and random items everywhere. This was so unusual for me to see in y/n’s house; she was persistent over how the house had looked and presented itself.

I stand among the clutter before focusing on what I entered the room for, yet once again it wasn’t obvious to me.

The boxes seemed to be filled with clothes and the items were old art projects I had seen her buy for fun, so I crossed those areas off as places to look.

I had been in this room before, yet it seemed so unrecognisable from the other places in the house I had been so used to over the years of knowing y/n. But the large white bookcase was still a standout against the dark blue walls. They didn’t seem as scattered as the rest of the room and so finding the brush became an easier task. Bright blue stood out against the white and I walked towards it to grab it, but I noticed a small stack of papers laid next to it. All folded sporadically with names scribbled all over them. It shouldn’t have peaked my interest but I had never known y/n to journal or write to people, so curiosity got the better of me. The top where names of family members, ones that even I knew well, but once I got through family members, I saw my name in a section next to Nick’s and Chris’s.

It stayed shut in my hand for me moment, my eyes not even deterring to place the pile back onto the shelf. The handwriting seemed rushed and scribbled and it only made me question these actions more. I shouldn’t have looked at the paper and I had already felt guilty for it, before it even happened.

I shouldn’t have opened it.

I started to read the letter to myself, and I sat on the spare bed on the small section that wasn’t already covered with the boxes and my heart sank.

Matt, I am so sorry for doing this, to you or anyone else. I’m still not sure about what I might do but I know that you’d want closure if I did. It’ll make itself clear. And I hope the main point you get from this is that this was never your fault.

I’ve just been feeling so shitty for weeks, maybe months at this point and honestly? I don’t see myself getting any fucking better.

Everything is stressing me out every day and it’s limiting everything I do, I can’t go outside often without someone there to ease my anxiety, nor can I even walk freely in my own home without any fear of being watched by people, and I’m rotting.

You were actually the only help I really had, not that you ever knew it.

I wanted us to last a bit longer than this, our three-year anniversary is in a few months but I’ll be lucky to not do this all by September.

I’ve planned a few things for you, love. I’ve saved all my money aside and sold things you would have trouble doing yourself. I didn’t want that burden on you. I wore several hoodies for you to have and slowly given things to you that I know you adore. That necklace you got me a year ago? The one of the gold star with the thin chain? I saved it for you, you were the wish I got from the stars I lay under in my childhood and I never want you to forget that.

I know this is selfish and I’ve done every way to rid of this feeling, good and bad. I’ve talked to people, talked to people who have gone through similar things and even talked to you about what helps you. I even started to harm myself. ‘Stupid’, I know. It only made me hide from you. Everything, from you.

My love, I’m sorry for this last burden on you, but after today you can rest happily without the castaway feeling I’ve shone on you the past few months.

I love you forever, y/n.

Y/n’ Pov:

“Shit, shit, shit” the words come out stuttered and repeat as I fling the covers from over my waist, realizing my errors.

Matt was taking a longer time than usual and when I looked at my phone, I realised it had nearly been ten minutes. I started to be confused and wondered what could’ve delayed him for so long. I mentally scan the spare room while I shift so that I can sit on the edge of the bed. I remember the boxes that were scattered and the things that were a mess compared to the other sections of my house. Was that a call for his curiosity? That’s when it hit me. The notes that I had left on the bookshelf was obvious and open for anyone to see. I started to panic.

I instantly flung the rest of the duvet off of me and slide off the mattress, muttering cuss words under my breath. I approached the spare room with a heavy chest and opened the door to meet Matt who was sat down on the bed with one hand holding his hair and the other gripping onto a slip of paper that I immediately recognised. His tears had dampened the paper similar to how mine did whilst writing, filled with heartbreak and torment.

It takes him a second to calm down enough and acknowledge that I had ran into the room, both of us with lingering heavy chests.

“Wha-” His voice escaped his lips in a raspy stutter.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked more firmly, some sort of emotion, thick in his voice. Though I couldn’t pull apart whether it was anger or betrayal, could’ve been both.

I tried to response but all that I was able to communicate were small stutters. My palms became sweaty, and the anxious feeling grew in my stomach on the brink of physical pain.

“y/n, tell me this isn’t what I fucking think it is.” His tone remained harsh and cold, but his tears made it sound brittle.

I didn’t want to say anything in fear of how Matt would react, but my silence answered his question for him.

“You have this all planned, don’t you?” His voice was unwavering making me shrink back into the corner by the door I entered prior.

“Don’t you.” I jolt when his voice becomes flat, making the only distinguishable teller of his emotions the tears that continued to fall past his cheeks.

My head nods in response, the small action making Matt take another shaky breath and face me dead on. He sucks in a harsh breath before facing me and speaking again.

“What’s going on.. wha- wh-..” His voice trails off with a break in his voice, making me internally wince.

“It’s nothing I just..needed an expel of stress..” My voice is monotonous but its shaking through the lies that we both know aren’t true. I just needed time to gather what I wanted to say to him.

“This is more than nothing, talk to me y/n.” When he stands up, I suddenly feel like a rabbit under a predatory stare and with my back against the wall, I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to. He notices a fearful expression in my eyes and creates distance between us, giving me a chance to step forward which I reluctantly took.

I was conflicted between the fear of how he felt towards me and the comfort I found in him, it was tearing me up inside and he could tell my thoughts were scattered. His own thoughts followed.

“Why didn’t you tell me a- any of this.” His words were swallowed harshly, and more tears threatened to spill over and I felt so guilty.

“You have your own shit to deal with. I couldn’t bore you with mine.” I look off to the side with a flat expression overtaken with so many emotions that I had started to shut down.

“Bore me? Baby this is your wellbeing we are talking about. Y-“ He takes a moment to regain his composure again “You could never bore me, especially with something as serious as this” He looks down at the paper, now slightly crumbled from the tight grip Matt had and the tears that fell.

“Is all of this true y/n, I mean the..self-harm”

I take a deep breath and exhale quickly when I nod my head and say yes with a whimper. My palm subconsciously rubs the fabric over my wrist, and I start to shake my hands with the raw shame of what I had done.

“I need you to know something, okay?” I meet his gaze which was full of compassion and for the first time in this conversation, I felt a little safer.

“I’m not mad at you”.

And with that my body practically collapses onto his and I hold his body tight. My arms wrapped around his waist and gripped the fabric while I choked out sobs into his chest. His own hands lay on my back, one holding the paper and the other rubbing the bottom of my neck back and forth. My heart simply broke with the pure kindness Matt still showed for me.

He broke down above me, hearing small sniffles when he lay his head on top of mine. He held most of my weight with his body and he lowered me on the ground and sat next to me, letting my legs rest under the pressure.

“I’d never, ever be mad at you for this, I just wish you came to me to talk about this. Any of it” Some words were mistakenly for others through the tears that ran down his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, i-“

“Hey hey.. look at me.” My eyes try and focus on Matt, but they stutter and shut tight, releasing the tears that blocked my vision. My throat starts to feel tighter and restricts my breathing slightly.

“Don’t apologise, jus- just talk to me.. what’s happened baby”.

I use a free hand to wipe my face and the breathes that I take in are shaky but are enough to relax my body.

“My anxiety just keeps flaring up, to the point where it’s almost constant and in any situation. Its why I’m cancelling so much on you. I keep feeling so guilty whenever I mess up and so after everything built up, I started to- to self-harm and I just kept getting worse. I didn’t want to bother you when you had your own anxiety to cope with” words spill from my mouth in some sort of word vomit, but it was the only way to say what I needed without feeling so overwhelmed.

I had started to scratch at my wrists gently and I didn’t notice until Matt took my hand in his and caressed the skin lightly, his touch allowing me to ground myself.

“Is this why you shut people out?”

“Yeah..it’s why I’ve been cancelling and distant.” I lay my head down onto his, seeking comfort from his touch.

“What can I do?” Calmness starts to rise through his words, getting rid of most the emotion that tore us down a few moments prior.

“What?”

“I want to help you, you don’t deserve this, baby.” The grip on my palm moves to my arm and shoulder and rubs it while pulling me slightly closer.

“You being here is enough. I was so scared to tell anyone about this, I was so paranoid that they would shut me out. But-“ my eyes welled up again but this time it wasn’t for anxiety. I wasn’t shaking anymore, and my throat eased up the pressure, finally letting me take my first stable breath.

“I’ll never leave, I’m always here to listen and talk when you, literally anything you want.”

My hand raises to hug him tighter, but my shirt gets caught on the skin of my scars and makes me wince and pull back.

“Hey, you alright y/n?” he sits up and hold my hand that pulled away from him and grabs the end of the fabric.

“Mhm just pulled some skin I- I’m fine.”

He looks between the hand he holds and my own gaze asking for permission but before he does anything, I pull the shirt back up towards my elbow. I hear a faint gasp from Matt followed by a shaky exhale, realizing the real damage caused by my mental health.

“Let’s bandage this up, yeah?” he stands up beside me and holds his hand before me to help me up, which I oblige.

I look at my arm again and my mind clears from my issues. The severity of my actions caused by my own hands. The person I once admired simply was torn through the skin and it was hard for me to look away. I only did when Matt placed his hand on my chin and made me face him, seeing how long I was staring for.

“M’sorry..” a tight-lipped smile crosses his face before he pulls me in for a hug and rubs my back in a soothing way. Falling into a quiet atmosphere.

“I love you, Matt”.

“I love you more, kid.”

We stay in silence for a bit, only breaking it to sniffle from our tears or to adjust ourselves onto one another.

I was finally feeling the peace I craved for months, and I was happy it was with Matt.

@melliflws @axolotllover225 @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerssturns @worldlxvlys @patscorner @breeloveschris @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @raysmayhem-72 @luverboychris @rootbeerworshiper

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #angst

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ronwestbreeze · 1 year ago

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you're gonna go far | 6

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 8.5k

read on AO3

It was a little difficult to get out of bed that morning.

One of those days.

Long and exhausting. It was challenging to get stuff done. You knew things like this wouldn’t just go away instantly. But you hoped that maybe…

It wasn’t too bad like before. You were able to think about the chores that had to be done later in the day and pushed yourself out of the bedroom.

So you went through most of the day barely existing. Norm was the first to notice your slight change in behavior because he began trying to joke more with you—no matter how bad they ended up being—and tried getting you out of your head. And you were thankful for that. At least that’s what was different this time around. You weren’t entirely alone nor held up in your room.

That was progress, right? You honestly couldn’t tell. Sometimes you felt like you were still stuck, that you weren’t moving forward. Or getting better. At least back to what you used to be.

Yet, you’ve been this way—asleep—for so long that you have forgotten what you used to be like. You forgot when the last time you smiled. You forgot when you felt the most happy or any other emotion besides anger and grief.

You wondered where that part of you went. Some days you went searching. Other days you somberly accepted that it was a part of you, that you were never going to get back.

At some point, you figured it died along with your mother.

“You want me to check on the baby today?” Norm asked you as you were getting ready for your link for the day.

You shook your head as you sat on the link bed, “No, I’ll be fine. Just one of those days, you know? We all have em’.”

He frowned when you shrugged it off or appeared a little too nonchalant about it, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Thanks for offering though.”

“Anytime, Doc.” He gave you a pat on the shoulder, while watching you particularly closely, “Just tell me you need a break. Don’t push yourself, okay?”

He was nice. You needed something like that.

Neytiri noticed it too.

While the two of you were in the garden that day, Neytiri had been saying words in Na’vi for you to repeat. And you did it, not perfectly of course, but you managed. It was just that you didn’t take in any information. Not in the way she knew you to.

You had a certain look that told Neytiri you were hanging onto her every word, whenever you were learning something new from her. Eyes slightly vibrant with curiosity.

That look wasn’t there today. Instead, in its place was a dullness and lifeless sort of unfocused gaze.

Your ears were low again.

Neytiri didn’t know when she became so attentive to your moods or facial expressions. So much so that she could tell when you were somewhat happy and really, painfully sad—

You were just easy to read in this form.

Yes, that was it.

“What is wrong, tanhi?” Neytiri eventually asked because she didn’t completely despise you so much to ignore your change in mood.

There was a twitch in your ears when you heard your name being called. You looked up from the newly planted mushroom seeds you had been mentally counting at Neytiri to find her staring at you expectantly. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes, “You are not listening. I know you are distracted. What is wrong with you?”

You cringed at yourself for allowing yourself to get so distracted by your swimming thoughts. Drowning in them as usual. “It’s nothing. Just have a lot on my mind.”

But the answer did not satisfy her. Neytiri shook her head, “Sky People are always hiding their feelings. You are doing that. It is okay to be sad. It is natural.”

“I’m not hiding it—” You sighed, turning your gaze back to the mushroom seeds. “It’s just one of those days. Maybe—Maybe today I am sad. I could barely get out of bed and tomorrow it might be worse—what are you doing?”

You watched as Neytiri got up and moved behind you. A second later, you feel a brief tugging at your hair until it became loose from your short braid. “If you want to learn our ways, then you must take care of your hair. I look at it and it is a mess.”

“It was in a braid before…”

“I did not like it.”

With that, she got up again and trekked back into the forest. You watched her go in bewilderment at the sudden change of conversation and attitude from the Na’vi woman. You had no idea what had come over the woman or what made her suddenly leave, but you didn’t focus on it for too long. The confusion and startlement you had was enough energy to continue planting the rest of the mushrooms. You didn’t bother putting your hair back into a braid, not wanting to spend time threading through the thick strands until your fingers were too sore to complete your job. And the last thing you needed was something stopping you from finishing this one simple task—

A splash of cold water was suddenly dumped onto your head, leaving you soaking wet.

And terribly pissed.

You snapped your head behind you to find Neytiri placing the leaf down next to her—which was glistening with water. The same water that was now spilled all over you.

“Neytiri—ouch!”

“Hold still.” Neytiri hissed at you as she ran her long fingers through your hair.

You grumbled but reluctantly listened, still confused and a bit pissed at what was going on. And for a while, the two of you remained there. You, sitting on the ground still counting the seeds quietly to yourself while Neytiri stayed behind you. Braiding a few strands of hair.

It was then you realized just how different your hair was from the way it was in your human body. The hair length was very similar to how you used to wear it when you were a teenager. You wondered then just how old this avatar body was.

Once she was finally finished, she crouched down in front of you to get a better look. Her yellow irises scanning your face and her work. Tucking rebellious strands behind your ear, patting down some of the fuzziness, and making sure the braid was visible around your face.

You watched her quietly. And soon, when she was done obsessing over your hair, she watched you too.

It wasn’t the way you and Jake watched each other. This—this had something different about it.

Time was an illusion here. Trapped in her yellow gaze. You hadn’t realized you had been staring for so long—nor did you realize you had briefly glanced at her lips—until a sudden sound from the forest pulled the both of you out of this strange trance.

And once you snapped to your senses, your body quickly reacted. You shot to your feet and cleared your throat, “I gotta check on the avatar now.” You didn’t meet her gaze. “I’ll see you.”

Before she could stop you, you already scurried off. Stopping once you were far enough away out of her sight.

Stopping when you felt a new pair of eyes watching you rather closely.

You glanced around the forest surroundings as you approached the longhouse with a frown until your eyes locked on another pair of yellow eyes. Severe ones.

Tsu’tey was in the trees further away but enough for you to see him watching you, even when you caught him doing so. He did not look away from you. Narrowed eyes and that scowl resting on his angular face.

For a moment you wondered what the look was for. You wondered what he could yell at you about this time, even though you listened to his demands and had stayed away from the Omatikaya territory.

A scared part of you wondered if he had seen you and Neytiri just now.

Nothing happened. But still, it would give enough ammunition for him to verbally attack you. Hate you even more possibly.

Except there would be no battle today. As Tsu’tey disappeared within the trees without a word.

You were confused but relieved at the same time.

Dealing with an angry clan leader was not on your to-do list. Nor were you properly prepared for it.

After watching the trees in silence, you eventually went inside.

Neytiri watched your retreating figure with a frown, her heart…shifting—only a little bit as you disappeared. Her gaze then moved toward the trees, the area where the sound had come from before. And with an irritated frown, she got up and stalked toward the area.

They were still there. She could feel their eyes on her as she went further into the forest. With a hiss, she glared at the trees, “Come out. Enough hiding!”

Just a little bit above her, a few feet away a familiar warrior snaked out of the bushes and seated himself on the large branch with his usual expression he wore whenever he was away from their shared hut.

Neytiri frowned up at Tsu’tey, “You are watching me.”

“I am watching her.”

After a beat and a quiet sigh, Neytiri climbed up the tree and joined him. Despite his very sour mood, he tugged her close to his side as they sat together. On the branch, they had a good view of the Avatar Compound. A few dreamwalkers were running about but none of them seemed to bother Tsu’tey as much as you did. Neytiri could easily tell with how he kept glaring at the longhouse, the same place she always watched you disappear in whenever you left your false body.

“You have been spending time with her,” Tsu’tey stated more so than asking. There wasn’t much to hide, they both knew Neytiri spent some of her free time visiting you. Only when Tsu’tey or Jake are busy with their duties and she’s finished with hers before the both of them. “I do not like it.”

“She has done nothing.” Neytiri reasoned.

“Yet.”

“And what did I say if she does? I would kill her myself.”

As she said this, Neytiri felt a certain wavering in her heavy words. Like a part of her didn’t believe it anymore.

She rested her head on his shoulder, hugging his arm with a content sigh, “But I cannot ignore what the Great Mother has shown me. She has stopped my bow before and now she’s done it a second time. Do you not think it means something, yawne?”

In the corner of her, she watched as his jaw tightened, his features becoming particularly focused. “I do not trust this.”

“You do not trust the Great Mother?”

“That is not what I mean.” He corrected her calmly. Neytiri knew that Tsu’tey, like any other child of Eywa respected her and trusted in her signs. Always had. That was how he was raised. And she knew he wasn’t about to abandon that because of one demon.

But his words were still reluctant, “I do not know where our Great Mother is leading us. I do not know why she wants that demon spared—when she is just like the rest of them.”

Neytiri considered his words, “Perhaps she is like Jake—”

“There is only one Jake. And she is nothing like him.”

She made a sound of disagreement but didn’t push further on the subject. She noticed how tense he was, how tense he had been for the past week. She wondered then if he was truly upset by this or if there was something more to this quiet anger he so carefully restrained. Of course, his hatred for the Sky People was no question.

But Neytiri knew Tsu’tey.

Skin and bone. Heart and soul.

She knew her mate. Not only as a mate but as a friend. They had grown up together. Along with her sister, Sylwanin. There was nothing he could hide from her even if he tried.

“She may not be like Jake. But clearly, the Great Mother has chosen her for a reason. My mother even allows her to stay—I believe it is time you seek the answers.”

Tsu’tey scoffed but didn’t brush her off. Instead, he leaned in closer, allowing his hand to rest on her growing stomach. “You will be a great Tsahik.”

“Not as great as my mother. Nor my sister.”

Tsu’tey shook his head and cupped her cheek, “You will be great, my beautiful heart.”

A soft smile tugged at her lips only to falter when she noticed how exhausted he truly looked. How close he looked to breaking but hiding it. He could never hide it well from her. Nor Jake.

She then took his face in her hands and whispered soothingly, “What is it, my love?”

Knowing that there was no point in denying a response—knowing that Neytiri would not stop until she got what she wanted—Tsu’tey turned away from her to stare back at the compound.

“The Tipani clan are becoming reckless. They already do not like the Sky People that have stayed—but now that the demon has come, I worry they will begin to take matters into their own hands. I worry…that our clans will begin to clash.”

Neytiri took his hand in hers and pressed a gentle kiss onto his knuckles, “If it comes to it, I will stand by you. Jake will too. But I also will ask you to speak to our Great Mother about your troubles.” She caressed his exhausted lines with a small frown, “I worry for you, Tsu’tey. I do not want you to take on this task by yourself. You have Jake and I to be with you. That is why Eywa brought us together.”

Right then, he seemed to consider her words. His gaze was still unfocused while staring at the longhouse. A silence settled between them.

“Eywa has created this new path for us.” Tsu’tey mused. “Somedays I wonder if it will lead to something good in the end.”

“Do you think it won’t?”

He was silent. And Neytiri didn’t push.

When Tsu’tey went to the Vitraya Ramunong, the night had already settled around him. When he went to kneel at the tree, connecting his queue to one of the links, his prayers were silent. But his questions were clear. His intention was pure to the Great Mother.

What does it all mean? Guide me, All Mother.

So when a single atokirina flew away from the tree, Tsu’tey took to following it both out of curiosity and apprehension. The Great Mother’s answers weren’t always clear. If anything, her signs only led to more questions.

So, Tsu’tey wondered. He wondered if this would lead to any more answers.

Or just more unwanted questions.

Tsu’tey rushed through the forest, never losing sight of the spirit. He kept going and going until he was nearing the Sky People’s base. Until the trees suddenly became familiar. Until the grounds he had seen many times before unwillingly began to appear around him.

But his body never stopped moving. He never stopped following it. Too desperate for answers. Too desperate, too yearning.

Oh Eywa, he was yearning.

And then, and then, and then.

And then he was staring down at your still false body.

It was strange. Seeing no life in your face. Tsu’tey had only seen your false body from far away, but now seeing you up close. You looked so different yet the same as your human form.

Why was he here? Why did the spirit bring him to…

No.

His vision rippled. Your body morphed from your human form to your false body—impossible.

And then he woke up.

Awake.

Tsu’tey finally realized where he was. Instead of standing in the middle of the forest chasing an atokirina, instead of standing over your false body, he was back in his hut. With his mates sleeping next to him. With his son cuddled between both Jake and him. With Neytiri hugging his waist from behind.

A dream. It was only a dream.

But why you? Why you?

Why?

“Yawne?” Tsu’tey breathed out a sigh and looked over his shoulder to find Jake shifting out of his sleep, looking at him through heavy eyelids. He sat up a bit, careful not to disturb Neteyam’s sleep as he did, “Another nightmare?”

Tsu’tey hesitated—considered the question. The dream he just had. Was it a nightmare?

“No. I am fine. Go back to sleep, my love.”

Jake didn’t look entirely convinced but eventually lied back down. Usually, it took a while for Jake to fall asleep, so Tsu’tey lay back down, adjusting Neytiri’s arm around his waist and squeezing his other hand on Jake’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jake asked, his voice deep and sluggish.

Tsu’tey nodded, and tucked his nose into Neteyam’s cheek as gently as he could, “I am now.”

It took you a little longer to get out of bed the following week. But you managed. You watched a few more of your mother’s logs and even some of the other ones still in the system.

Dr. Augustine. Norm. Some guy named Quaritch. And then there was Jake Sully.

As a human.

You paused the video to examine his face. You suppose the traits matched his now blue form. The only difference was that instead of his longish dreads, he had a buzz cut in the video. And a tattoo poking out of his short sleeve shirt.

Eventually, you moved on, willing yourself to forget his face for the time being.

You also tried not to think about the fact that Neytiri hadn’t been back for about a week now. Which was normal. You didn’t overthink it. Especially not after that moment—

Eventually, you moved on, willing yourself to forget your thoughts about her.

Then you remembered Tsu’tey. Him watching you so closely. You hoped he didn’t see you and Neytiri. Frankly, you weren’t sure what would happen if he did know.

He’d kill you. That’s for sure.

Eventually, you moved on, willing yourself to forget all three of them.

When you finally got out of bed, you continued with your regular schedule and tried to think of literally anything else. You tended to your garden by yourself and continued checking the baby.

There was a bit of determination for yourself, to keep moving. To not stay in one place any longer or else you’d be stuck.

And you weren’t sure if you’d make it out if you did.

Jake continued visiting the tank room whenever he could.

Today was one of them. Only this time you made it before he did.

“How’s the baby?”

You glanced up briefly from your notes, “Healthy. It might be because Na’vi babies might grow faster in pregnancy—judging by that we might have a couple more months before it’s born.”

Jake nodded, his face serious, “Anything else?”

For a brief second you didn’t respond, too caught up in your thoughts until you realized he had asked you a question. Jake tilted his head, brows furrowed at you.

You shook your head eventually, “No, everything’s all normal.”

He stared at the belly for a moment longer before he left. You were somewhat surprised at his quick retreat but didn’t think much about it. He was some type of great warrior, he was probably busy with something else in his clan. If it meant that the two of you didn’t have to interact much with him anymore or probably a lot shorter than before, then you were okay with it.

It seemed he finally took the hint.

All you could do was keep moving.

Jake came again the next day.

This time around you brought out the ultrasound.

He watched you and the machine intensely. You noticed and gave a sound close to a huff or a snort, “Nothing’s wrong with it. I’m just doing a thorough check-up today.”

A quick look of relief crossed his otherwise exhausted features, “Right, right, of course.”

Once you got the ultrasound running and connected to the avatar, you immediately found the heartbeat with the blurry image of the fetus appearing on the screen. It had grown considerably since the first time you saw it.

“There she is.” You mumbled mostly to yourself. The heartbeat was calming in a way, easing your usual tense muscles.

Jake perked up instantly, staring at you in disbelief, “She? It’s a girl?”

You glanced up at him briefly to find a soft expression on his face upon looking at the fetus. Neteyam—who you just noticed attached to his chest—sleepily snuggled closer to his father’s chest. When his head moved out of the sling, Jake held the back of his head, giving it support.

“Yes.” You gave a short nod.

Another look of relief flashed across his face, this time he didn’t try to hide it like before. A small smile tugged at his lips, “That’s—That’s nice. Amazing.”

In the corner of your eye, you watched him. That easy fatherly expression fell upon his face. How soft his smile was, for something that wasn’t even his. You weren’t sure what to think of it—no, you expected it. It was foreign. A father loving his child. To you at least.

You didn’t know your father. Nor did you have a father figure in your life. That type of love was unfamiliar to you.

Love itself was a foreign concept that you could not yet grasp. The only time you could truly say you experienced something close—similar to love—was with your mother.

And if love was like this—heavy. Leaving you…like this.

You weren’t sure you would want to experience any type of love ever again.

“You sure you’re ready to take on another?” You raised your brows, not looking up from the belly.

Jake looked at you, “Do you care for my answer?”

“I am watching over her. I suppose I should make sure she is left with somewhat tolerable parents—that is, if there aren’t any problems with her when she’s born.” You hummed, rolling your eyes at the sudden look of worry on his face. “Relax, that’s the standard check-up of any baby—well, I don’t know how different it will be compared to human ones.”

A beat went by before he finally answered, “I wouldn’t be honest if I said I wasn’t nervous. What new parent isn’t?”

“Mmm.”

The rest of the session was just the two of you, sitting in a somewhat comfortable silence. Comfortable for you because you were able to ignore him without any problems. And Jake wasn’t being too talkative or apologetic, which was a plus. But he was noticeably less hostile toward you as the time went by. Showing that he was taking the truce quite seriously and keeping his end of the bargain.

In other words, the truce was possibly the best option for you both. You could work in peace without being hammered or interrogated. And Jake would continue his visits without any problems.

You still didn’t like him. And you were sure the feelings were mutual.

But things were becoming easier.

And sometimes you like easy. Just as much as a challenge.

There was a part of him that was curious. Jake didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand Neytiri’s easy trust in you but it only made him more curious as he kept coming to see the baby.

Of course, you were guarded and curt around him. And he was quite the same but that didn’t mean he wasn’t at least a little bit interested in why you were so important to their deity.

So many questions.

A part of him wanted to ask Eywa himself—he wasn’t much used to praying to her but he would now and then out of respect for the People. If he asked, he would possibly gain an answer—which was incredibly rare—or he would gain more questions, which was the more common response.

So, Jake took to finding things out for himself. Even if it meant doing it the hard way. Even if it meant getting his head out of his ass and finally putting things into perspective.

Jake Sully was willing to at least keep this tolerable relationship with you going. Keeping this stable cord steady. You weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. It was time he had to get used to it. It was time for him to get over himself.

And he was willing to show that he did want something different. That he was ready to change, to finally understand you in a way.

But you still didn’t like him. Which was fine.

He didn’t like himself all that much either.

Another week went by and Neytiri still hadn’t come back. Surprisingly, you found yourself missing her. And when you began missing others, you got angry.

Since you didn’t feel like going through that process again, you resolved yourself to thinking that she must’ve gotten busy with her clan. Or grown tired of watching over you and your depressing personality once she realized that you weren’t a threat to her clan.

That must’ve been it. That’s what you chose to believe at that moment.

One day at a time.

You moved forward. Because you had to.

Throughout the week you focused on your work tending to the garden, checking on the baby, and even taking on more responsibilities around Hell’s Gate.

Sometimes you’d help Dr. Patel in the bio labs, other times you went with the other avatars to train your body. There were also days you would help Norm pack different human items he’d usually bring for the Na’vi children of the Omatikaya Clan. You, of course, never ventured too close to their territory whenever you went with him to drop off the items. You’d either stay in the ship you flew in or stay at the base as he left on his own.

Jake still kept coming around but his time there became shorter and shorter with each visit. Again, you didn’t bat an eye. You welcomed it and continued with your work.

Toward the end of your busy and long week, you woke up with a start when a blaring sound struck your room. It had to have been the middle of the night as you looked around frantically, only to realize the sound was coming from your tablet.

Quickly, you grabbed it to find the alarm was the system alerting you something was wrong.

And the problem was coming from the tank room.

You stumbled out of your bedroom and dashed through the long halls until you finally ended up in the tank room. Not caring that you were probably making a bunch of noise in the process.

When you got to Augustine’s tank, your heart sank when you found Grace’s avatar was violently twitching with the lights inside of the tank blaring a red.

“Fuck!” You hissed as you immediately checked for the problem.

The first thing you checked was the avatar itself. Her heart and the baby’s were fine but the avatar’s was slightly elevated, probably in response to whatever was happening to the machine which was the next thing you began to check.

There you discovered that something in it was malfunctioning. Throwing the liquid temperature off, the placentiums weren’t giving any more nutrients like they were supposed to. Whatever was going on, you didn’t have time to fix it or the machine.

If you wasted time like that more damage could be done and you weren’t going to risk that. Especially when the baby was in there. Especially when the baby could receive the worst of your mistake. Of this malfunction.

So, you worked fast.

You searched the room for an empty tank—which you were able to find and rolled it over next to the one Dr. Augustine’s avatar was in. You pulled the empty tank open just as Norm and a few other scientists entered.

“What happened?!” Norm questioned hastily.

Quickly, you jumped down from the empty tank and rushed toward Grace’s, “It’s malfunctioning. I don’t know why but we have to move her.”

Thankfully, Norm didn’t ask any more questions. He ordered the other scientists to help you.

You worked quickly. Draining the rest of the liquid from the tank, carefully moving the avatar—this required multiple hands—until you placed it in the new tank.

“Track her heart rate.” You ordered one of them.

A second later, a woman responded, “Stable but its body temperature’s dropping fast.”

By the time she said that you closed the tank. “Norm, fill it up.”

You jumped down, grabbed the heart monitor from the female scientist, and watched the lines closely. The tank was nearly filled up as Norm came up beside you.

Along with the heart monitor, your heart pounded through your ears as the tank finally filled up. You gave the monitor to Norm and went to adjust the temperature back to the usual settings.

When the blue lights came on it felt as if the room breathed a huge sigh of relief. You took the monitor back as Norm hummed, “Lucky you were the one to get here first. And quick thinking too—do you know what went wrong with the other one?”

The rest of the scientists poured out of the room as you slowly shook your head. “I don’t know. I couldn’t waste time, Spellman. Not when it could’ve risked the baby.”

Norm nodded and patted your shoulder, “You’re right. Good work, Doc.” He moved to the other side of the tank with a thoughtful expression. “You want me to stay and help with anything else?”

The lines on the monitor were stable, which brought you some sense of comfort. And yet the slight panic remained. “No, no. I’m good here. You can go back to bed. I’ll finish up here soon.”

“Okay.” Norm eventually moved toward the exit. “Get some sleep, Reeds. I’m serious.”

You nodded without looking at him. “Yeah, sure. Goodnight.”

“Good morning.” Norm corrected with a tired grin.

With that, Norm left. You breathed in a steady breath before grabbing a chair from the corner of the lab and sinking onto it. The monitor was kept nearby, the heart rate melodic in your ears as you set your tablet down on your lap.

For a while, you studied how far along the avatar was. It had been a good couple of months since you first discovered the child—which left her at about twenty-four to twenty-seven weeks at least. That’s not even counting when she first got pregnant. But compared to a human, the Na’vi pregnancy went by a lot faster, which also confirmed your theory.

Or maybe your perception of time was fucked up with how distracted and busy you had been.

Was that why the malfunction happened? Were you too distracted to notice any faults in the system during your usual sessions? What did happen?

You contemplated this for a while. Until your mind became hazy and your eyes droopy. At some point, you fell asleep next to the tank because there was no way you would leave the fetus’ side at that point. Not after all of that.

It felt as if your eyes had been closed for only a couple of seconds before you were suddenly jolted awake to find Norm standing over you.

“What happened? Is it the tank again?” You instantly asked, turning to check on the tank.

“No, no, no—the—she’s fine!” Norm quickly assured while easing you back into your chair. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.”

You stared at him for a beat, both a tired and an annoyed expression easily falling upon your face. “Well, I assure you I certainly wasn’t sitting with my eyes closed just then.”

Norm winced, “Sorry. I thought you’d want to get in your own bed before Jake gets here.” He rubbed the back of his neck as you got up from the chair. “I had to tell him what happened—he’s flying over now.”

“That’s fine.” You grumbled. “I can stand just one day in the same room with him. Besides, I should probably figure out what went wrong with that tank.”

Norm nodded, “Okay—uh, should I be a mediator for the both of you or..?”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s not like I’m meeting their clan leader.”

“You really need to try and get along with him.” Norm chuckled with a shake of his head.

You scowled, “Are you going to keep yapping in my ear about it or be useful?”

“Alright, alright, don’t an ass.” He strolled toward the doorway. “Jake’ll be here in fifteen.”

Once he left, you got to work again. You weren’t an official engineer but you knew a good amount of information from your training back on Earth. You hoisted yourself up and into the tank before you began taking it apart. You stood in it, trying to find out what exactly had gone wrong—while glancing at the heart monitor now and then.

Your brain was moving quickly yet hazily from the sleep. Eyes honed in on the mess of wires in front of you. So distracted by your silent questions and theories that you didn’t hear the incoming footsteps. Only the voice that followed after.

“What happened? Is she okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine.” You replied immediately, watching in the corner of your eye as he approached the new tank. His hair was tied back and across his chest was a leather strap that carried what looked like a machete. “It was just a malfunction with the tank. We were able to get her out before any real damage could be done.”

Jake frowned, “Malfunction? How the hell did you let that happen?!”

“Look, I don’t know.” You replied calmly, ignoring the twitch in your jaw. “I’m still trying to figure all that out. But she’s out of it and fine. Norm helped if that makes you feel better—”

“I thought you had things handled? What happened to that?” Jake scowled, his tone vicious.

“I do.”

“Then what the hell happened—”

“I already said I don’t know!” You seethed, glaring down at the group of wires now hanging from your hands. Somewhere in the back of your brain, you realized that Norm really did have to stand between the two of you. That this truce wasn’t stable enough. That the two of them were just too explosive. “The hell do you think I’m trying to do? Kill the baby?!”

You missed the way Jake’s face faltered slightly, catching himself. “No…No, that’s not what I—”

“Then get off my fucking dick!” You snapped, throwing a piece of the tank to the floor with a clatter.

All sound was gone from the room then.

This was the last thing you wanted to deal with. Being scolded like some child—like you already weren’t beating yourself up over this mess.

You sunk onto the floor of the tank and continued working. Because that’s what you were best at. Not conversations. Not people. Not love.

Work. It was everything to you.

Already you were mentally drowning Jake out, ignoring the fact that there was another person in the room with you. But eventually, you realized that there was nothing wrong with the wires. It must’ve been something else. Another theory down the drain.

Jake uttered your name at one point. And you ignored him.

There was a sigh followed by a short pause before he spoke, “I’m sorry.” You continued ignoring him. There was something about his apologies. You were just tired of them. “That wasn’t fair, you’re right. I shouldn’t have come at you like that—”

“Augustine’s avatar is over there.” You mumbled. “You can check on her yourself.”

There was another silence but you were too focused on what was in front of you to notice or care. You were so determined to ignore him and the sting in the corners of your eyes.

You didn’t like to cry. Especially in front of others.

Thankfully, you ignored him long enough until you realized you were finally alone.

After a while, you breathed out a tired sigh.

Fortunately, as the days went by there were no other problems with the new tank or baby, but it didn’t stop you from always double-checking everything after that close call. So much so that you didn’t realize how much sleep you were missing until Norm pulled you away from your work and forced you back into your room. Locked the door and everything just to make his point.

With the promise of Norm taking care of your work, you eventually allowed yourself to sleep for practically the entire day. Not without the tablet on the dresser next to your bed of course.

Even after catching up on some semblance of sleep, Norm still didn’t let you get back to your schedule right away. Which irritated you of course.

“I don’t want you in my garden, Spellman.”

He rolled his eyes, “And I don’t want you stressing yourself out. As your friend and colleague who happens to care about your well-being, I demand you stay away from the garden until you’re completely rested.”

You frowned at him, “We’re friends?”

“Shut up and accept my love.”

And he kept true to his word. Norm kept you away from the gardens, even the tank room. And made sure that the scientists knew how to keep you away as well. He covered all of his bases.

Damn him.

You couldn’t sit around and do nothing though. So, at some point you were so desperate you resorted to practically begging Norm to just give you something to do that would distract you throughout the whole day. You nagged and nagged and nagged until Norm finally gave in.

“There’s an old link shack north of Hell’s Gate. We’ve been thinking about restoring all of them around the area. But that particular shack’s connection is a little wonky. Maybe you could head over and restock the supplies with your avatar. Maybe even fix the connection while you’re at it.”

You nodded quickly, “Yeah, sure thing. I’ll get on that—”

“And don’t try to sneak your way to the gardens!” Norm added sternly, sending you a look over his shoulder while clicking away at his computer. “Plus, you won’t need the Samson ships. The shack’s not too far from here.”

With that, you went to grab supplies, such as med kits, weapons—one gun and a few stacks of ammo—blankets, Na’vi weapons, a hunting knife, and a bow with a few arrows. You kept the hunting knife to yourself just in case.

After getting all of this, you placed the bag of supplies in the compound longhouse where your avatar always slept when you weren’t linked. Once you got to your link bed and linked up with your avatar, you grabbed the hunting knife and the bag of supplies before taking off north from Hell’s Gate.

The sky was grey today with a few darker clouds on the horizon instead of the shimmering blue you were used to. A storm might’ve been coming.

Which meant you had to make this trip quick. There was no telling how bad these storms could get on this planet.

Similar to how you traveled through the forest with Neytiri, you took to the trees so that you’d have less of a chance of running into or disturbing any of Pandora’s finest. Hopefully, you had learned to be quiet enough to not draw any attention your way as well.

As time went by, the sky got darker. You followed the coordinates Norm gave you while slipping through the trees like the true shadow you were. Traveling and climbing through the trees got easier as you went. You had done it enough times with Neytiri that you knew what to do and how to do it. Albeit not perfectly, but enough to get by. Blending into the environment as best as you could.

You enjoyed it, the vibrant life and colors of the forest once again. Every time felt like you were taking in Pandora for the very first time. Every time felt like a huge breath of the freshest air. Here, you were weightless. You weren’t a scientist. You weren’t human. You weren’t an avatar. You were just were.

You existed here. You were real.

Truly this place was everything you dreamed of when you were younger.

Rain began to pour by the time you spotted the shack. It was propped up and well hidden in a large tree, with moss growing out of the sides, the entire thing looking like it hadn’t been used in a long time.

You slid down from a branch as quietly as you could and landed in front of the metal entrance. By the time you got the door open and crouched inside, you were soaking wet from the rain.

The shack itself wasn’t too small, which surprised you. It must’ve been made to allow avatars to be able to roam freely through here without too much trouble.

Once the door was closed, you sunk onto the empty cot in the corner of the shack and began unpacking the supplies. The med kit went into the cabinets above a wooden table attached to the wall. The blankets went on the cot. The gun and ammo went under the cot in a long black case filled with old and rusted weapons you had to throw out into the rain. You kept the hunting knife tucked in your shorts.

The rain kept going. It was relaxing. Stopping for a moment to listen. Smelling it through the cracked window next to the cot you sat on.

It was nice. You could stay here if you wanted. This could’ve been your new home if you didn’t have responsibilities at Hell’s Gate.

Lastly, you worked on the radio that sat on the wooden table—which you assumed was connected to the main base. So, for the next few minutes, you took your time messing with the radio. Listening to either ongoing static or barely audible voices going in and out. At some point, you messed with the wires a few times before Norm’s voice finally came through.

“Tomato. Tomato. Tomato.”

You pressed one of the buttons, “Hey, Norm.”

“Oh, Jesus! Reeds!” Norm startled. “Warn a guy next time!”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, “I just wanted to test if it worked. Clearly, I fixed it.”

A snap of thunder drew you away from the radio. Seemed like it was getting worse out there. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been out there until now.

Norm seemed to realize this too, “You gonna stay there and unlink?”

“Mmm.” You paused. “I’m gonna try bringing the avatar back.”

He sighed, “Alright, good luck.”

“Don’t need it.” You said as you got up. “I’m too awesome.”

“Whatever, Reeds.”

Another clap of thunder filled the air as you stepped out of the shack. Immediately you were soaked by how heavy the rain was.

Thunder continued to boom, making your skin jump every now and then. It was just terribly cold, making you start to run so that you could get out of it faster.

You ran and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, only to realize just how much noise you were making and that the area was too unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t long until you realized how lost you were. It was just too dark to navigate your way back or recognize any familiar spots guiding your way.

With that in mind, you went toward the nearest tree and began to climb.

But your body was yanked away from the tree bark almost instantly as you were tackled down to the ground by a large weight. Your left shoulder exploded with vicious pain as if a bunch of sharp knives buried itself into your skin and continued to tear through it.

A strangled scream left your lips as the thunder clapped in the sky once more. You could barely see the creature but it was a dark, large beast. Digging further into your shoulder.

You hadn’t even seen it coming. You hadn’t been paying attention.

Now…

Now you might die because of it.

You tried shoving at it, managing to get most of its weight off of you. But the teeth were still in your shoulder. There was still pain. There was still warm liquid dripping down your arm.

When you moved your leg, you remembered the hunting knife in your shorts. Immediately, you dug into your pocket and found the handle instantly.

After that, you didn’t waste any time stabbing at it blindly and desperately. You did this, you kept going until more warm liquid covered your knife-wielding arm. You did this until the animal was limp against your body. Until you were able to push it off and scramble to your feet and run.

The pain was awful but bearable enough for you to run back to the shack at least. Mud was all over your clothes—some of it in your mouth. If anything, you probably looked insane right now.

You ran. Ran. Ran. Ran. Ran. Way too clumsy to be quiet. What’s worse was you had no clue where you were. And there was more shuffling coming from the bushes and trees surrounding you. If anything, you were probably throwing yourself further into the lion’s den.

It wasn’t long until a black creature suddenly came out of the bushes in front of you, causing you to stumble to a stop as it made its way toward you. Sleek and dangerous. Eyes locked on you.

Thunder boomed again. An identical creature came out from your right. Another on your left. Another. And another. And another.

Until you were surrounded. Until you knew there was no way you were going to make it out of this.

You kept your knife in front of you, trying to ignore the pain in your shoulder, the warm liquid running down your arm, the shakiness in your legs. You began to wonder how much blood you were losing with your energy slowly dwindling as time went by—no, it didn’t matter.

Damn it, you weren’t going to die here! Not like this.

“Come on!” You hissed as you pointed the knife at them. “Come on!”

They growled at you, closing in. Finally, one of them pounced toward you. With the knife, you slashed at it. At that, the creature cringed away and missed you entirely but that didn’t mean the others were going to try their luck.

Out of instinct, you stumbled back as two more tried coming for you. Your back hit a tree as you yelled and swung your knife wildly at them.

Only neither the creature nor your blow landed.

The two creatures were thrown to the side as another clap of thunder struck your ears.

Another figure emerged from the trees and rushed toward you.

Instantly, you swung the knife, only for it to be caught in an iron grip.

You screamed.

“Hey, hey, easy!”

It took you only a couple of moments for you to register the words and that they were coming from a familiar avatar. The last person you ever expected to be here.

Jake lowered your arm with a hiss. You blinked as another round of thunder rattled your ears.

The creatures were closing in again. Jake turned his back to you, hissing at them. His larger arm stretched in front of you protectively when one of them got a little too close for his liking. The creature hissed back

You watched warily behind him, still clutching the dirtied knife. Both of you exhausted and animalistic. Yellow eyes glimmering. One with warning and the other with desperation.

Jake looked terrifying in this light. Just as murderous and dangerous as the animals that surrounded you.

You remained behind him, trembling but glaring. Gripping that knife like your life depended on it.

There was suddenly more shuffling, more thunder, and the creatures then scattered.

You, dumbfounded by this, spoke shakily, “Why did they—”

Jake grabbed your wrist holding the knife.

“We need to move.” He said, dragging you forward.

The two of you ran in the opposite direction of the creatures. He hauled you up a tree before climbing up himself. “Is there a link shack nearby?”

For a moment, you wondered how he knew about the link shacks. You leaned on a branch both to catch your breath and because the quick movements left you a bit dizzy. When you couldn’t come up with plausible answers to your silent question you instead said, “I just came back from one. North from here—I don’t know how far it is.”

Your body leaned a little too far. Jake was quick to grab you in his stronger, more stable arms as he pulled you away from falling off the edge, “Hey, hey, Reeds, I need you here with me, okay? Just stay awake long enough until we get to the shack and we’ll clean you up.”

“I’ve...I’m losing a lot of…” Blood. Blood was what you wanted to say. But the adrenalin was wearing out. Your shoulder throbbed horribly. Exhaustion weighed you down and placed inconvenient black spots in your vision.

“I know.” He draped your good arm over his shoulder and kept you upright. “I know, we’ll get there. I promise.”

There was no arguing with him. You were soaked to the bone and in a hell of a lot of pain. Going back to the shack was your best bet in this horrid weather.

Jake continued to support your weight as the two of you followed the same coordinates leading back to the shack—or rather you haze inaudible directions of what you could remember from the information Norm had given you while Jake haphazardly followed.

Thankfully, the rest of the way wasn’t a long journey. Or maybe you just kept blacking in and out along the way, you didn’t know.

Jake and you stumbled through the door of the shack. He closed the door while you made your way to the radio with whatever strength you had left.

“Norm.” You tapped the radio while wincing. The pain in your shoulder was getting worse. Before now you had been tolerating it. “Norm, can you hear me?”

The static went on.

“Storm must be messing with the signal,” Jake said from behind you as he rummaged through the shack. “We should stay here until the storm settles—”

You rested your head against the small table, the rest of his words becoming nothing but muffled noise to your ears. God, you’ve lost so much blood. And you were so tired.

For a moment, just for a few seconds, you wanted to sleep. Only for a moment.

“Reeds.”

A larger hand rested on the back of your neck, bringing you slightly out of your unconsciousness.

Jake kept calling your name. “Hey, where’s the med kits at? We need to work on your arm, okay? And I need you to stay awake. Can’t have you unlinking in this condition.”

Sluggishly, you nodded, “They’re in the cabinets.”

More thunder rolled by. Jake left your side briefly to search through the cabinets above you. You leaned back in your seat, staring bleakly up at the ceiling.

“How long do these storms last?” You asked.

The thunder responded with a clap.

sorry for the long wait! hopefully it was all worth the wait. another 8k chapter, yay, that wasn't difficult to write at all lol! but now jake and reeds are alone in a shack. anything could happen....

(i'm not adding anymore people anymore!)

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @squirtlebob @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird @slutforsmut4ever @lik0

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rishiguro · 1 year ago

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ANAGAPESIS - K. SHINSUKE

warnings: break up. heartbreak. self-deprecating thoughts. hurt/no comfort. 3.2k words.

angstober event

kita sighed as he closed the door behind him, the day’s fatigue springing onto him as soon as he took his shoes off, neatly placing them away and putting his slippers on.

it wasn’t particularly often that he had bad days, but he couldn’t exactly hide from them forever.

sure, he had a job he loved, putting all of his passion in it, but nothing really seemed to go right today. he found security and sense in his routines and yet somehow everything was misplaced or even missing today, throwing off his entire schedule.

but he was so glad to be home.

he couldn’t wait to fall into your arms and feel the weight on his shoulders disappear, letting himself be comforted by your warmth.

usually he’d come home and be greeted by you. you’d have some dinner together, either some leftovers or something one of you made (sometimes you prepared dinner together), and calmly let the day pass.

your shared apartment was more that just a few walls and furniture — it was his home, his safe place.

however, today he found you sitting in the living room, dressed in some jeans instead of the usual sweatpants. he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“hey, love,” he greeted you with a warm smile, stepping closer to you, “you going out?”

oddly enough, you didn’t greet him cheerfully like you often did, instead only throwing a weak smile in his direction before looking down to your hands. “can we talk?” you immediately asked him with an almost timid voice.

“sure” kita sat down beside you, his entire body aching as he did so. he could only barely stop himself from letting out a relieved moan as he finally sat down again. grabbing your hand, he turned his entire attention to you. you were fidgeting, toes wiggling on the floor, as if you were anxious. “is everything okay? you seem distressed”

you took a deep breath before absentmindedly chewing on your thumb’s nail. as soon as you noticed however, you immediately brought your hand down, clenching it in your lap. your actions however only confirmed kita’s suspicion. you chewed on your lower lip for a moment before you decided to speak up. “it’s not. i- i need to tell you something,” you felt your heart race in your chest as you spoke, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. you quickly glanced over to kita, noticing the deep frown on his face and his tired, sunken eyes.

it was obvious that he had a hard day and here you were, only making it worse. could you really do that to him?

for a second you paused, before mentally shaking your head. no. you didn’t really have a choice, did you? you couldn’t just continue lying to him.

he deserved better.

“and i feel terrible for bringing it up now, but i don’t think this can wait any longer”

kita nodded slowly, rubbing a thumb over the back of your hand slowly. “okay”

he patiently waited for you to begin, yet your mouth went completely dry.

just how were you going to say this to him? could you even do it?

you knew you had to – you didn’t have a choice.

but how could you hurt someone who never did anything to hurt you?

“hey, take a deep breath,” he mumbled to you, “whatever it is, it’ll be alright, i promise”

you clenched your jaw, turning your head away from him and squeezing your eyes shut.

just why did he have to be so damn understanding? why did he have to be so loving and caring?

why was he everything you ever wanted in somebody?

and why were you planning on breaking him?

“love? talk to me,” he spoke softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze after bringing it up to his lips and pressing a small kiss on it. “whatever it is, together we can work this out”

don’t do this. don’t be like this. just this one time.

you quickly shook your head, still not looking at him, when you felt your eyes getting teary.

“i don’t think we can work this out, shin,” you whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, your voice would break.

before he could even reply, you turned to him, looking at him with teary eyes. “i think we should break up”

kita could only look at you, completely shocked.

was this supposed to be a joke?

no, you would never joke about things like that.

then why?

after way too many moments of silence, kita could still only bring himself to mutter one word. “why?”

you hated to see him like this. his eyes were wide in horror, if not even shock, as he looked at you completely confused. his hand, the same one that held yours so securely just a few minutes ago, was loose around yours, like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be touching you. his eyes, albeit wide open, looked more like he was staring right through you, not focusing on a single thing.

you hated this look on his face.

meanwhile kita felt like he couldn’t breathe, his thoughts running wild, filling his head with way too many concerns at once, before he managed to sort them, the next words spilling over his lips.

“did i do something wrong? did i hurt you?”

he looked so sad, so full of sorrow and guilt.

he couldn’t do anything to hurt you.

pressing his lips into a thin line he looked at your still intertwined hands, giving you a short, weak squeeze. he swallowed down a lump in his throat, looking down in shame before meeting your gaze again. “love, i’m so sorry”

how could he be sorry for something he never did?

“just tell me what it is and i promise i’ll do everything i can to fix it” he sounded so sure, like it was a fact that he was the one that did something wrong, that he had to make up for something, that he was the one at fault.

you were used to kita speaking with a matter-of-factly-tone, no matter what the actual subject matter was. but how could he be so convinced that he did something wrong? he— the one that always thought about the things he did, the one that always thought about what he said, the one that was always sure of what he did and always made sure to care for you, to love you.

and to never hurt you. and he never did.

but you had to hurt him.

you looked down on your intertwined hands, torn between the urge to give his hand a squeeze or pulling yours away. but could you really let him go? “no, shin, listen-,” you tried, only to have him jump in immediately, like he didn’t really hear you in the first place.

“and if you still want to do this, i’ll respect it, i promise. just please, let me do this,” he asked, no, begged, with a sad smile on his face.

it was safe to say that kita felt like you had just pulled the rug away under his feet. he felt lost, confused and most of all guilty. he had always tried to be the best version of himself for you, be the best partner he could possibly be— and even more than that.

did he slack off recently? did he forget an important date? did he neglect you?

“shin”

mentally he ran through the past days, weeks, months, the whole last years, analyzing pretty much everything he could remember. every time you fought, every dumb argument and heated discussion, every time his tone was a little off, every time he didn’t really understand just what you wanted from him and every small thing he might have forgotten. the days he forgot to ask you how your day was, the times he could only give you a short kiss before rushing out the door, the number of times he came home and simply wanted to go to bed, not having the energy to spend a lot of time with you after an excruciatingly hard day working.

was it all too much for you?

he rushed out the door one too many times, his tone was too sharp one too many times, he forgot to kiss you properly one too many times.

he couldn’t really blame you.

but was it really that? was it all of that? was it something else?

were you going to leave him hanging like this?

pressing his lips to a thin line, he forced himself to focus back to you. “at least tell me what i did wrong, please,” kita asked before lowering his head again, taking a deep breath to distract himself from his racing heart, blinking rapidly to get rid of the few stray tears in his eyes. “don’t just leave me like this”

you closed your eyes in shame, not wanting to look at kita so broken.

while he kept asking himself what he had done to you and why you never felt safe enough to talk to him about this, you asked yourself how you could do this to him.

a sad smile on your lips, you shook your head, still not daring to take your hand away from his, desperate to feel his warmth for as long as he would allow you to. “you didn’t do anything wrong, shin,” you whispered through the lump in your throat, your voice all hoarse, “nothing”

nothing?

his head shot up, looking at you with wide and teary eyes. “then why?”

and despite that he looked so calm and even resigned, like he wasn’t even going to protest as soon as you provided him with your reason.

now it was you who looked away, biting your lip as you stared on the floor. “i just,” you stopped, not even wanting to actually say it out loud and make it real. you didn’t want to believe it, much less say it. you still hoped that this was just a weird, long dream, one that you would wake up from and everything would be the way it was before.

you would wake up next to him and he would already be awake, greeting you with his deep morning voice, with a small and loving smile. you would simply mumble some greeting, still half asleep, and move over, putting your head on his chest. his hands would find their way on your back and your heart would skip a beat, your entire body filling with love.

but you haven’t woken up for multiple weeks by now. and you didn’t wake up now.

“i just fell out of love with you”

just like that, kita felt his heart stop in his chest, shattering into a million pieces.

you fell out of love with him.

he nodded slowly, spacing out.

so there was nothing he could do anymore, huh?

did he do too little for you? did he get too used to having you by his side? should he have been more attentive, take you out more, give you more flowers, more compliments and little gifts. he should’ve held you more, kissed you more, loved you more.

he should’ve been more.

maybe then you wouldn’t have fallen out of love with him.

“for how long have you been feeling like this?” he asked slowly, sounding almost shy, like he didn’t want to actually know.

and he truly didn’t.

for how long had he made you feel like this, for long did you feel like you had to stay in a relationship you didn’t want to be in solely because of him?

“i don’t know. for too long”

you knew exactly what thoughts were running in his head. you knew how he must be blaming himself, how he was trying to find any kind of fault in himself.

and there was nothing you could to to relieve him from this, even though none of this was his fault.

you doubted there was anybody at fault — and if there was, you were sure that it would be you.

you were the one that was breaking up with him, you were the one breaking his heart, you were the one that wasn’t perfect, unlike him.

he was always perfect. and that’s what hurt you so much.

he was the ideal partner — he was caring, loving, attentive. honest, loyal, open and always communicating. he was firm, but not strict or mean, never making you feel belittled. and if he did fuck up and do something wrong, he was quick to realize his mistake and apologize, willing to do everything to make up for it and change his behavior.

he was everything anybody could ever want.

and you were throwing him away just like so.

“okay,“ he whispered, nodding to himself before pulling his hand away, clasping his other one with it and putting them in his lap, taking his warmth away from you.

your fingers itched to reach out to him again, try to comfort him, protect him from the same pain that you inflicted on him. you clenched your jaw, clenching your hands into fists instead and digging your nails into your palm. “shinsuke, i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry”

“it’s okay,“ he breathed out, the corners of his mouth reflexively turning up for a second.

you shook your head, swallowing repeatedly. how was this okay or fair? and how could he even thing about comforting you when he was feeling like you were effectively ripping his heart out? “no”

“it is,” he replied immediately, a sad smile on his lips as he looked at you for a short moment. “you can’t choose how you feel, can you?”

you knew he was right — and yet that didn’t give you any comfort. instead, it only made your chest constrict in pain as you clenched your fist even more, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

“i never wanted to hurt you,“ you breathed out, voice so weak that you felt like you couldn’t speak up without starting to cry.

why were you the one crying?

“i know” kita smiled sadly at you, looking down at his feet.

silence settled over the two of you, both of you occupied with your thoughts, before you decided to speak again.

“i packed a few things and i’ll stay over at a friend’s house,” you started slowly, getting up from the couch and stepping away from him. “and, uh, look for a place”

kita didn’t look up at you (probably for the better, you didn’t think you could handle his teary face), instead only nodding slightly, playing with the fingers in his lap. “okay”

you left him sitting there, rushing into your once shared bedroom to pack some essentials into a bag.

as you grabbed some clothes, you tried to ignore your blurring vision and the heavy feeling in your chest.

you didn’t want to leave him behind like that as you were gathering your things to leave what has been your shared home for so long.

and yet you had to, you knew it was the best thing to do.

because staying with him would hurt him even more.

when you returned, kita was still sitting in the same spot, looking like he hadn’t moved an inch.

and truly, he didn’t — he felt paralyzed.

was he not good enough? where did he go wrong?

what could he have done to make you fall out of love with him?

he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, clenching his eyes shut, like that would stop the tears from welling up in his eyes.

you shook your head at the sight.

how he could just sit there and let you break his heart, just like that?

“why aren’t you mad at me? you should be yelling at me, cursing at me, anything!” you bursted out, your bag falling on the floor next to you. kita jumped as he heard your voice, turning his head to look at you. he expected you to look angry, irritated, anything but seeing you with tears running over your cheeks. “why are you just letting me break your heart?”

he swallowed thickly before giving you another comforting smile, like the tears on his face weren’t even there.

“it’s not your fault. you can’t choose who you love” he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly at his words. “and also not who you fall out of love with”

you looked over at him, looking him up and down before speaking again, your voice slightly agitated. “so? how can you just take it like that?” you asked, gesturing in the air.

how could he just sit there and do nothing?

“nothing i’ll say will change this, won’t it?” he simply stated, sounding resigned. he looked over at you, noticing how you stayed silent, proving his point. “that’s why”

contrary to how that might look, kita wanted nothing more than to fight this. he didn’t want to let you or this relationship go.

he didn’t want to let go of the lazy mornings or late evenings, the trips to the farmers market or the dates at bakeries or cafés, the warm cuddles or cooking dates.

but did he really have a choice?

“i don’t want this, i still love you. i can’t look at you leave, knowing that there’s nothing i can do,” he confessed, twiddling his thumbs as he spoke. “but i will respect your choice and i will not fight to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with me anymore”

a pained, but warm smile appeared on his face again when he noticed the tears rolling over your cheeks. “it’s okay. i’m not going to yell at you and i’m not going to call you names or hurt you in any way for something you can’t control”

you swallowed, grabbing your own thigh and digging your nails into the fabric of your pants. you couldn’t even look at him.

you were such a coward.

“why do you have to be so understanding, even in this moment?”

he sighed softly. “you know why,” he whispered, feeling the tears in his how eyes again, “i cannot bring myself to be mad at you and i don’t think i’m able to give you what you want right now. i’m sorry”

he was too good for you. and you were everything he wanted.

“don’t be” you shook your head, trying to blink away the tears as you wiped over your cheeks. “it was dumb to even try to bring you to yell at me. even dumber to ask you to do this to make this easier on me” you let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head at yourself. “especially since i’m the one breaking up with you”

you scoffed at yourself before picking up your bag and finally walking towards the door, opening it with shaky hands.

and even though you had thought about this for weeks, way longer than you’d ever like to admit, you weren’t ready for a life without him.

“i’m sorry, shinsuke,” you croaked, still standing in the doorway with your back to him, “i really am”

“i know“ was all you heard before shutting the door behind you and walking away from your home, your relationship, him.

kita always strived for perfection and nothing less of perfection, not just finding comfort in it, but also believing that everybody deserved nothing but the best of him. and that belief has never failed him.

until now.

until he failed you.

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martianbugsbunny · 7 months ago

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Hour One (A Kalluzeb Fic)

*falling down the stairs* I did it! I finished my post-Zero Hour fic, it's so tasty to me <3 I'm not even gonna ramble about it I'm just gonna get right to the fic bc I love it!!! read on and enjoy!!!

When the ship was safely in hyperspace, Kanan quietly let Kallus into a room on the Ghost that was currently deserted. Judging by the half-made bunk beds against the wall, Kallus assumed it was living quarters, but he was too distracted by the growing pain in his shoulders and ribs to try and piece together whose room it was.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Kanan said. And then Kallus was alone again, with the forgiving, kind voice of the Jedi echoing in his brain. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be spoken to softly. He was lucky these people whom he’d hunted across the galaxy for years had even bothered to pick up his escape pod, rather than speeding away from the Imperial fleet and applying the rule of “serves him right.”

Something in him cracked. He began to sob, silently, terrified of what he had done in betraying the Empire, overwhelmed by a thousand different strident feelings he couldn’t even name. The heavy breaths hurt (every movement seemed to hurt, now that his adrenaline rush was wearing thin) and his head was pounding. Was the world really spinning, or was that just him?

At the first hiss of the door sliding open, Kallus dragged his sleeve hastily across his face to remove any tears or snot that might give away that he’d been crying—a bad decision, really, given his black eye, which stung at the rough contact.

It wasn’t Kanan who stepped into the room, slightly awkwardly and with bright green eyes that reflected back at Kallus those unnamable emotions.

It was Zeb.

Kallus took a step back, hands clenched at his sides. He knew his eyes were red and he could feel spots on his face where he had missed tears, and he hoped Zeb wouldn’t notice. He had no right to cry in front of this man, of all people.

Zeb stared at him for a moment, and Kallus could feel him mentally checking off all the things that were currently wrong on Kallus’s person. Hunched posture from his injured ribs; blotchy face; bloodstains on his uniform and dried blood on his lip.

“I brought you some clothes,” Zeb said. In the other hand he held a medkit, and Kallus realized with a sinking feeling that those supplies were for him. What a waste of resources that seemed. “They’re probably not your size, but they’re better than the Imperial things you’re wearing.”

Kallus took a breath before answering, surprised at how steady he was able to force his voice to be. “Thank you,” he said.

Then there was a horrible pause as Kallus realized he wouldn’t be able to remove his chest armor, much less his shirt, without help, and he could see the exact same knowledge dawning on Zeb’s face. “Karabast,” he said. “You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you.”

Kallus shook his head after only a brief moment of thought. He didn’t have the strength to punish himself any further. Whether or not he was worthy of Zeb’s help would have to wait until he was healed. “If you don’t mind,” he said, taking another shaky breath as he once again met Zeb’s gaze.

He didn’t look angry. He almost seemed…proud? That wasn’t right. Kallus was seeing things; his brain had been shaken up by his escape and he was imagining things that weren’t there. “I don’t,” Zeb said. He crossed the room and set the clothes down on the lower bunk. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the empty space next to them.

Kallus did as he was told, relieved to be off his feet. The leg he’d injured on Bahryn had been hurting horribly since his fight with Thrawn, particularly his knee. He might need to consider getting a brace, he realized, if he wanted to keep fighting—which he did.

Zeb unclasped the sides of Kallus’s ISB-issued armor, dumping it on the floor. “Sabine’ll get a kick out of painting that,” Zeb said. “You can wear our colors instead of Imperial ones.” “Give it to somebody else,” Kallus said. “I don’t want it.” Zeb gave him another strange look that he couldn’t parse. “Whatever you say.” He began to work at the clasps of Kallus’s uniform shirt. They definitely wasn't built for his large, clawed fingers. “So…you’re a Rebel now,” he said. “Still think you made the right decision?”

There weren’t words to describe how firmly Kallus was convinced of it. He was terrified, staring into the face of the unknown, but he knew he’d done the right thing—he just wasn’t sure how to live with the consequences. How to build a new life for himself out of the ruins of his old one…which had been built on the ruins of so many other people’s lives.

So Kallus simply nodded, trying to keep himself from spilling any more tears. The thing that made that impossible was the gentle way Zeb worked the unclasped shirt from his torso, pulling off one sleeve and then the other, grumbling angrily in that deep, rumbling voice when he saw the bruises on Kallus’s side.

“I apologize,” Kallus said immediately, his voice stiff and cracked like old, uncared-for leather. “This isn’t fair.” Zeb helped him get his arms into the new shirt he’d brought, leaving the clasps undone; the medics would only have to undo them again later to treat his injuries properly. Then he draped a quilted jacket across Kallus’s shoulders.

“You just uprooted your entire life, Kallus,” Zeb said, sighing and adjusting a non-existent crease in the jacket. “I would think it was weird if you didn’t cry.”

“Not in front of you. You shouldn’t comfort me.” Kallus moved backwards, further into the bunk, away from Zeb’s touch. He didn’t deserve empathy and he didn’t want pity. “This shouldn’t be your problem.”

Zeb got up from the floor where he’d been kneeling and sat on the edge of the bunk, staring at the opposite wall instead of at Kallus. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “Maybe I should say it’s none of my business. Maybe I should leave you to deal with it alone. But when you worked with me on that ice moon, and saved my friends from the Empire, and fed us all that intel as Fulcrum, I think you kind of made yourself my business.” He turned back towards Kallus, his face serious, his eyes soft. “Now let me check your other injuries.”

Kallus complied, shifting closer to Zeb. Even if it didn’t sit right with him, he didn’t think he could refuse Zeb anything. He would do whatever he was asked, whatever he was told—even allow Zeb to take on some of his burden—if it would make a fraction of a difference. If it would help him so much as an inch towards making amends.

With his broad hands carefully gentle, Zeb put a few stitches in Kallus’s broken lower lip. Kallus wondered where Zeb had learned those skills; if it was gained during his time in the Honor Guard of Lasan or in the Rebellion. For a moment, he was lost in wondering, searching Zeb’s face while he was intent on his task as though he could find an answer there. He only realized Zeb had paused and asked him a question when Zeb tilted his head to the side, staring at Kallus for an answer of his own.

“Could you repeat that?”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “I said, can you see alright? That black eye doesn’t look too good.”

His eyes were dry now, but there was still a blur in the left side of his vision. “Actually, I can’t,” he said, swallowing hard. “Everything to the left is hazy.”

“It'll probably need a while to heal,” Zeb said. “If it doesn’t, we’ll get you fitted with some visual aids.” He dabbed something cold and clear on the bruised skin. “There’s nothing more I can do until we land, but you should be fine.”

The pain in his side begged to argue, and he was pretty sure that something in there was broken, but Kallus nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For everything."

How could he put that everything into words? Thank you for not killing me on Bahryn, thank you for telling me to look for the answers, thank you for believing me when I was Fulcrum, thank you for picking me up just now, thank you for tending my wounds.

He didn’t need to. The way Zeb was looking at him, he already knew.

“We have enough people on board to handle things,” Zeb said, his voice equally low. “I can stick around here for a while if you want the company.”

Kallus felt a smile tugging at the stitches on his lip. More everything to be grateful for. “Alright.”

They sat there together on the bunk for a while in silence. It was a comfortable silence, somehow, and Kallus finally began to relax, not breathing easily past the injuries to his ribs but certainly breathing more easily than before.

“You were limping,” Zeb said, breaking the quiet. “When you came on board you were limping.”

“Once you’re wounded, that body part becomes a target. It’s not so bad, now that my weight’s been off it.” Zeb leaned back against the wall. “That’s good.” He extended one arm to Kallus. “Come on, Kal. We’ve got time before we land anywhere, you can rest.”

There was a moment of hesitation, of doubt, and then Kallus allowed himself to settle next to Zeb, with a strong purple arm around his shoulders. As he started drifting off, safe for the first time in months and knowing his injuries would be cared for, Kallus thought he felt Zeb’s fingers gently rubbing across his arm, and there was a little pit of warmth in his chest that kept the cold of pain and guilt out.

#come get ur juice kalluzebbies #alexsandr kallus #garazeb orrelios #kalluzeb #star wars #Star Wars rebels #rebels #post zero hour #post zero hour fic #hurt/comfort #fic #I've been talking about this thing for at least a month now I think #it's finally done so nobody needs to set my house on fire lol #martianbugsbunny writes fic

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jagibee · 2 years ago

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Call Me Luna

(Stray Kids x Reader)

Chapter 3

2,855 Words

A/N: New Chap let’s gooooo! As always, likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated and lmk what y’all think!💞

…

Well. This was unexpected.

You were prepared to deal with the excitement of working closely with members of an internationally well-known band and all that that would entail. Really, you had finally made peace with that.

But. Stray Kids.

What the hell.

Your brain was flooding and the only thing keeping you afloat was Kwang-sun’s voice sounding once again from the front of the room.

“I will give you ten minutes to look over your clients’ files and then you will meet up with their respective managers. I look forward to working with you all.”

And with that, he left.

The two clipboard people, however, remained standing where they had been for the entirety of the day, aside from what you assumed to be their lunch break. Your feet hurt just by looking at them.

You turned back to the table. Each of the other caretakers were looking through their files and they seemed to make mental notes.

While looking at them, you began to wonder why each person was assigned to each group. It wasn’t by gender and it couldn’t have been by age because while Jae was the oldest and got assigned TWICE, Stray Kids was the second oldest band in those five and you were the youngest of the caretakers.

After a couple minutes of drifting off into those thoughts, you realized that you should probably look at the file.

Opening it, you saw the first page showing a profile of the oldest three members.

BANG CHAN - Alpha

SCENT - Eucalyptus

RUT NOTES - very possessive, sometimes aggressively so, good to have at least two members with him at all times but not Lee Know and Changbin at the same time or he will get aggressively anxious about the young ones, likes to wear things scented by all the members, prefers to stay in his dorm, will eat a lot

LEE KNOW - Alpha

SCENT - Caramel

RUT NOTES - doesn’t like wearing clothes so keep him in the dorm with no surprise visitors, likes to mark up anyone but especially the younger members, not particularly possessive but more aggressive than usual when members don’t do as he says

CHANGBIN - Alpha

SCENT - Cooking spices

RUT NOTES - gets especially bad headaches, likes to cuddle with the omegas and betas, will eat a lot, likes other members to wear his clothes

All of this information looked rather typical to you, so you turned the page to see the next members.

HYUNJIN - Omega

SCENT - Coffee

HEAT NOTES - gets especially bad cramps, keep a lot of heating pads and warm water packs in dorm, not particularly protective of nests, will usually nest in common room and everyone is welcome in

HAN - Beta

SCENT - Chocolate

SLIP NOTES - sense of smell increases, likes clinging to the members, will mimic nesting

FELIX - Omega

SCENT - Lemon dessert

HEAT NOTES - very protective of his nests, will only build them in his room and no one is allowed in until he invites them, likes to cling to alphas outside of the nest

You frowned at the use of the word “mimic” in Han’s profile. Even if he wasn’t an omega, nesting was nesting and if it made him feel better, what did it matter?

You shook your head. As long as it’s just in a random file that won’t even tell you all of the details, it can’t cause that much harm, right?

You turned the page again.

SEUNGMIN - Beta

SCENT - Mint

SLIP NOTES - doesn’t like touching people or interacting

Well now that was almost too much information, you thought sarcastically.

I.N - Alpha

SCENT - Toast

RUT NOTES - doesn’t have regular ruts yet, they are seemingly random and unexpected, is particularly possessive over Felix and Seungmin, will get aggressive if anyone else gets too close

Before you could think any more deeply about the profiles, Jisu from earlier entered and brought three others with her.

She smiled before addressing everyone. “Hello, my name is Jisu, you might remember me from before. My colleagues and I are here to escort you to your meetings with your band’s managers. Jae, Ha-Eun will take you,” she gestured to a short alpha woman, “Saira, Ja-Young will take you,” this time, a curvy beta stepped forward, “Millie, Jung will take you,” now it was a tall beta man. Then she turned to smile at you and you noticed her cat-like eyes for the first time. “Y/N and Justin will be with me.”

You each gathered up your file and the rest of your things before following your guides out of the room.

The clipboard people came out as well and followed you, Jisu, and Justin.

Oh god, they don’t think I’m a threat, do they? You shook the thought from your head. I am probably one of the least threatening people in this building. They could just drop me off in a random room and I would be helpless because I wouldn’t know my way out of the building.

You walked for about five minutes before you came to a stop before a door and Jisu told Justin that his meeting was in that room. He went inside and one of the clipboard people, the beta, followed him in.

Then, Jisu turned to look at you with her cat eyes, looking you up and down before turning around and strutting away. “This way, Y/N!”

You scrambled to follow her, the clipboard person keeping you in between the two of them.

When you had gotten close to Jisu and settled at her pace, you turned to the clipboard person. “Hi, sorry, what’s your name?”

He looked startled. “My name is Chang-ho.”

You smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you. What do you do?”

He blinked a couple times, then looked at Jisu and back at you. “I usually help the screening process for new hires.”

You frowned a bit. “Am I still being screened?”

Before you could hear his answer, Jisu whipped around and smiled at you. “Here is the room you will be meeting your band’s manager, Y/N. I hope you will fit well in our company. It would be nice to see you again.” Her cat eyes gleamed as you passed her, in a way that was both unsettling and slightly attractive.

Entering the room, you saw a large desk with one nice leather chair behind it and three much less comfy-looking chairs in front. Choosing the middle of the three seats, you watched as Chang-ho grabbed the left one and dragged it to the back of the room before settling in.

You were about to ask him what he meant earlier about the screening process but you were interrupted by a new presence.

The man had an average height and build and had what you could tell was an expensive haircut. He wore special extra-strength scent blockers so you didn’t know his secondary gender. Nothing really stood out about him, but he had a nice smile.

“Hello, Y/N, my name is Cho Ha-Joon, manager of Stray Kids. I look forward to working with you.”

After exchanging pleasantries, you both sat down and he pulled out a similar file to the one you still had. “So,” he started, “any immediate concerns about what your job will be entailing?”

You remembered what the file had said and decided your first priority. “Do you really not have a specialized nesting space?”

Ha-Joon’s eyebrows furrowed. “The omegas nest in their rooms or in the dorm’s common room. Is there really a need for something more?”

You hummed thoughtfully before responding. “Yes, I think there is, especially because in the Stray Kids dorm arrangements, the two omegas are kept separate. I think it would be more beneficial for them to have a combined space.”

Just then, the door opened. Expecting Jisu again or maybe another clipboard person, you sat patiently until Ha-Joon could respond.

Then Bang Chan walked in.

“Hello, Ha-Joon, I just wanted to let you know-”

He cut himself off when he caught sight of you, just releasing a breathy “oh”.

He was wearing a slightly askew beanie with a few curls poking out along with a black sweatshirt and black basketball shorts. Classic Chan outfit, you thought. And then your brain promptly shut down.

After a few seconds of just staring at each other, Chan seemed to snap out of it, and cleared his throat. “I am so sorry, please forgive me, I didn’t know that there was a meeting going on.”

Ha-Joon just waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, it would be nice to have you anyway. Are you busy?”

Chan shook his head. “Ah, no I was actually coming here to tell you that the boys are heading home a bit early. They were a bit excited about the new caretaker and couldn’t focus so Lino got fed up and ended practice.” The entire time he spoke, he kept glancing back at you. “I was just going to head to my studio and get some work done but if you want me here, I’ll gladly stay.”

Ha-Joon nodded. “Of course! Speaking of the new caretaker…”

You stood up and bowed quickly. “Hello, my name is Y/N and I will be the new caretaker for your band. I look forward to working with you!”

You mentally patted yourself on the back for not going into cardiac arrest.

Chan smiled and bowed back at you. “Hello, I’m Chan and I look forward to working with you as well.”

You tore your eyes from his right dimple when Ha-Joon cleared his throat. “What were we talking about again?”

The three of you sat down, Chan taking the remaining seat at your side.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down, thankful that Chan was also wearing heavy duty scent blockers. If you were able to smell him, you might have fainted.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you tried your best to recall the earlier conversation. “We were talking about a combined space for the omegas to nest.”

“Ah, yes.” Ha-joon nodded. Then he turned to Chan. “Let me know if you have any input on behalf of your members, alright?” At Chan’s nod, he started up again. “We were planning on changing the dorm arrangements, one with the four alphas and one with the betas and omegas. We would buy a new space in order to give you your own room with the omega and beta group. The boys would have to move, but they will get used to it.”

Out the corner of your eye, you could see Chan’s head tilt in confusion. Did he not know about the plan to change the living arrangements?

You frowned. “While that could work, I truly think it would be more beneficial to leave the boys in the dorms as they are and allow me to rent my own space. Acquiring a caretaker is already a big change, I don’t want to force them into anything more. Plus, I think having my own apartment would be beneficial not only for myself, but for the band as well. That way, no one feels like they’re being smothered by me, they can come and go as they choose if they need me or just want to get away, and I would like my own space for my heats until I feel comfortable enough with the band. Also, while most caretakers do tend to focus on omegas, it’s important to not prioritize one’s mental health over another’s based on their secondary gender. I hope that each and every member of Stray Kids will feel comfortable coming to me when they need to.”

You could feel Chan’s gaze on you, but tried to ignore it in favor of being taken seriously.

When Ha-Joon seemed to be considering it, Chan stepped in. “I also think the boys would prefer keeping the living arrangements as they are. We move between each dorm so freely anyway, there would really be no point in making a huge deal by moving. Plus, I like Y/N’s idea of a shared omega space. Felix and Hyunjin like to nest together but it’s a bit of a hassle to move all the right blankets and pillows and stuffed animals from one dorm to the other when they want to.”

Fuck. Your name sounds good in his voice.

Double fuck. He’s supporting your thoughts and putting his band mates first.

How were you supposed to work with this guy when everything he does makes you want to eat him?

Nervously fidgeting with the edge of your own scent blockers, you hoped that despite the lesser quality, no one would be able to smell how much you were mentally drooling. Thankfully, it was company policy to provide the heavy duty scent blockers for employees that worked closely with idols, so hopefully you would be receiving some soon.

After a few moments of deliberation, Ha-Joon looked down at his papers and wrote something down. “You both bring up good points. I’ll talk to Kwang-sun and see if we can decide what the best course of action is.”

Looking back up at you, he said, “Y/N, it was great meeting you but I’m afraid we’ve run out of time. Here is my card, and please email me if you have any questions.”

Taking the card he offered, you stood up and bowed at him. “Thank you so much for everything, I look forward to working with you!”

Turning to Chan, you felt your breath hitch.

He stood up as well, and you both bowed at each other before he clasped one of your hands with both of his. “I’m really excited to get to know you, Y/N, and so are the rest of the boys.”

Trying not to melt, you did your best to respond. “Yes, I can’t wait to meet them! I really hope you’ll all like me.”

His smile honestly could have blinded you. “I know we will! It was great talking to you, see you tomorrow!”

Tomorrow? You were seeing him again tomorrow? Did that include the rest of the boys as well?

Just then, Jisu walked in. She looked a bit surprised at Chan’s presence, but she recovered quickly, smiling at you. “The car is waiting to take you back to your hotel, Y/N. Are you ready?”

Saying your final goodbyes, you followed her back out of the room and down the hall. Realizing that at some point, Chang-ho had left, you decided to ask her about that.

She frowned. “Chang-ho? Oh, yes, he was there monitoring you while Justin was also being watched because we were on the fence about who to assign to which group.”

When you stopped walking, she turned around and looked directly into your eyes. “Both Stray Kids and ITZY wanted you as their first choice, Y/N.”

Wait. What?

Two globally famous bands wanted to hire you as their caretaker? And they chose you themselves instead of the company choosing for them? They specifically wanted you?

At your obvious surprise, Jisu just shrugged and turned back around. “I suppose your resume must have been impressive.”

Instead of going crazy because what the fuck, you decided to focus on one question circling your thoughts. “Okay, so why was I chosen to be assigned to Stray Kids instead of ITZY?”

You could see her press her lips together before she answered. “I don’t know exactly, I wasn’t too involved in the process, but I would guess it’s because you have more credits that they trusted you with more people.”

Another question surfaced. “Wait, I thought you were just here to escort us around and make sure we all got where we needed to be, but you seem to know a lot about this. What exactly is it that you do?”

You could see her eyes flicker over to you before she looked straight ahead again. “I also studied to be a caretaker for a few months when I was younger. But then, I decided I wanted to be more on the business side of things. They have me working as an assistant manager but because of my background, they use me as sort of a liaison between the management and the caretaking departments.”

By now, you had arrived outside and in front of the car. You turned back to Jisu. “I hope we get to spend some more time together then, Jisu.”

Her eyes widened a bit before she smiled. “Yes,” she purred, “I hope we do too.”

By the time you got back to your hotel room and all cleaned up, putting on a loose top and old sweatpants, it was dark out.

You decided to order room service and while you waited for your food, you wrote down everything you could think of that you wanted to talk to the company about.

Finally, you heard a knock on your door.

Since you were expecting room service, you didn’t look through the peephole and just swung the door open abruptly.

The person at your door was not room service.

“Uh,” Chan smiled and gave a tiny wave. “Hi.”

…

A/N: What’s this? An interaction with Chan? And now he’s showing up at your hotel room? Ehhhhhhhh?

Taglist:

@eastleighsblog

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sleepiexx · 2 years ago

Text

My Hero

Carlos Oliveira x fem!Reader

Note: been dying to write for resident evil!! Especially Carlos bc he has a special place in my heart right next to Valeria Garza, here it is :))

Summary: Carlos saves a pretty FBI agent and can’t help but flirt with her

Warnings: mentions of drugging, mentions of serial murder, mentions of taxidermying people, descriptions of a wound and stitching it, lmk if I missed any

Word Count: 1561

He’d found her in the hallway of the police station, bulletproof FBI vest ripped through as though it were paper. He hadn’t even considered that she was alive until he realized that the sad little wheezing noise that had non-stop been plaguing his ears came from her mouth.

“Holy shit,” he whispered as her eyes shot open. She attempted to move but stopped short, groaning.

Carlos stilled for a second, gun aimed at the woman, trying to determine wether her groans were that of the inhuman creatures he’d been desperately trying to survive against but ultimately decided against that as a pained whimper passed her lips. He quickly shoved his gun into it’s holster and grabbed a med kit off the wall before running to her side.

“Hey, hey, hey, stop trying to move sweet thing. I’m Carlos and I’m gonna help you, okay?”

“Hurts,” she whined, tears free falling down her face.

“I know, I know. I’m going to fix you up, but first, I need to take this off. Think you can hold your breath for just one second and tough it out?” He asked, knowing that no matter the answer she gave, he was going to have to convince her to let him take off the vest and let him stitch her up. Her life depended on it.

“Yeah” she breathed, jaw clenched tight, “yeah, just do it fast.” She moved her hands away from where she was clutching claw mark-shaped open wounds ranging from rib to shoulder.

“Will do,” his hands made quick work of the velcro, shimmying the loosened vest over her head. Underneath was a bloodstained white button up blouse.

“Is it okay if i unbutton your shirt so I can reach the wound?” Once again, something he would have to convince her of if she said no but Carlos refused to make her feel any worse than she already did by taking away her decision and just stripping her with no warning.

In response, she nodded. She was handling the situation very well, Carlos assumed that might have something to do with the vest, or rather the letters on it, what it meant she was. He quickly undid the buttons on her blouse, carefully sliding it off, attempting to not expose her. Thankfully, her bra had been narrowly missed by the claws on the creature, edges just slightly tattered, so she wasn’t completely bare.

Digging through the med kit, Carlos pulled out disinfectant. “I’m going to-“

“Please just get it over with,” she strained.

“Gotcha, no more talking,”

A pang of guilt rushed over her, “‘m sorry,” she cried, wincing as Carlos cleaned the wounds with harsh disinfectant. “I’m so thankful for your help, this just hurts really bad.”

“Hey, no hard feelings. I wouldn’t be feeling particularly chummy either if I was just- stabbed? Cut? Clawed? Jesus what happened?”

She took a long sigh, “There was a creature here earlier, like the ones outside but less human, more monster. Slashed the shit outta me with it’s claws and then smashed through the window.” She explained, gesturing to the broken window to her side. Carlos made a mental note to check her hands and legs for glass shards later.

“Christ,” he let out an exasperated sigh, “were you here to help with the zombies?”

The girl shook her head, “I mean not technically, they would have sent someone other than me had anyone known. We thought it was just serial murders to begin with. Which partially, it was.”

Carlos shot her a curious look, “I’m about to start stitching, but keep talking. It’ll help keep your mind off the pain.”

She gave him a respectful nod. “The RPD chief of police, he was killing various women and then turning them into taxidermy for his own sick enjoyment.” She elaborated, face turned sour, “I’d been in his office to discuss my findings about the murders with him, I only put together that he was the one committing them when he gave me a glass of water. After a few sips, I got woozy and realized he’d drugged me. Before I could do anything to stop him, I crashed on the floor. When I came to, Irons was long gone.”

Her face felt unusually flush as waves of chills ran through her bloodstream, causing her to stop her story for a second and rub her face with the palm of her hand opposite the side that Carlos was fixing up.

She continued, voice wary, “I wandered the police station still drugged up, but conscious. I was looking for help, but I was met with flesh eating zombies. After fighting them off, I ran in here to get away. Little did I know there was some big fucked up creature in this hallway too.”

Carlos frowned at her story, “that sounds awful, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before, other than the whole zombie thing.” She laughed a humorless, dry laugh. Carlos smiled along, attention still on the claw marks which at this point were dripping quite a bit of blood.

Her chills and flush-ness morphed into a skull shattering headache. She felt weak, incredibly weak. Her body sank lower on the wall she was propped up against.

“What’s your name again?” She asked, speech slurred ever so slightly but not enough to cause immediate alarm in him.

“Carlos, what’s yours?”

“I- I don’t know, Carlos. But…but.. but I’m tired, so ’m g’nna take a nap, okay?”

Carlos’s head shot up, his eyes meeting hers which were fluttering closed. Panic reared its ugly head in Carlos’s gut.

“Hey, hey none of that. You gotta stay awake.” He lightly smacked her face a few times, making her squint them open at him. “Keep those puppy dog eyes on me, okay?”

She didn’t give a response but he took her still open eyes as an okay. He hastened his stitching pace, flicking his gaze between her face and collar bone. As he was about to make his last few stitches, he noticed her eyes beginning to close again.

“C’mon, puppy, eyes open. I only got a few more stitches to do. You can rest later.”

She blinked a few times, silently trying really hard to stay awake as exhaustion washed over her body.

He decided to continue talking to her throughout the final stitches so she could keep focused on staying awake.

“Gotta stay awake so you can tell me your name later. And I gotta keep you alive so you’ll go on a date with me after this, how’s that sound?”

“You’re asking me out as I bleed all over your hands?” She strained.

He smiled, happy to have gotten her talking again, and while it wasn’t his top priority at the moment, he was really hoping to get that date. “If it makes you feel any better, you look really sexy covered in blood.”

She giggled faintly, “keep sweet talking like that and maybe I will let you take me on a date.”

“Is that right? Well in that case, has anyone ever told you what beautiful eyes you have?”

She scoffed with a smile, “just you and your weird nicknames.”

“I think it’s fitting, puppy for the girl with those sweet little puppy dog eyes. Besides, it’s not like you’ve told me your name yet.”

She would have likely responded had she not been occupied by realizing he finished stitching her up. Carlos set the thread and needle back into the med kit, reaching for gauze and tape before turning to wrap the girl’s freshly-stitched wounds.

“I thought you were a zombie there for a second, I’m glad I found you. Just one more combat trained person to add to the team.”

“How many else are there?” An attempt to gage how much of a chance they had of getting out. She wasn’t opposed to the idea of a small team, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt having some extra help.

“Well there’s you, me, my friend Tyrell, and that S.T.A.R.S. lady.” He listed off.

“S.T.A.R.S.? So we do have a fighting chance. Jill Valentine or Rebecca Chambers?”

“Jill.”

She nodded in response.

They stayed in a comfortable silence the rest of the time it took Carlos to wrap the wound. The agent focused on her breathing, trying to get it back to normal.

“All done.” Carlos gently patted the gauze, smiling and helping her onto her feet. He re-buttoned her shirt and even helped her slip her vest back on.

She shot him a smile back, “(Y/N).”

He cocked his head in confusion, “huh?”

“You said I needed to stay awake so I could tell you my name, well you’ve successfully fixed me up. I’m (Y/N).”

His smiled returned tenfold, “pretty name for a pretty girl.”

She laughed, “How did I already know you were going to say something cheesy like that?”

“You’re FBI, you’re in my mind, picking my brain.” He replied, making her scoff. He smirked in return, “So.. you want to fulfill my other wish?”

“What’s that?”

“Let me take you on a date”

A different route from both of their joking tones, (Y/N) smiled, a real, genuine smile. “If we get out of here, you can take me on as many dates as you want. After all, you’re my hero.”

#carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira x you #carlos oliveira #resident evil 3 remake #resident evil

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thewritetofreespeech · 10 days ago

Note

Can I request Hector from Castlevania with a S/O who plays guitar singing him to sleep after a particularly bad nightmare :3 ? Thank you!

Hector didn’t have dreams when he slept.

Only when he was awake was he allowed to fantasize about better days and bigger plans. When he was asleep, Hector was only given darkness. If he was lucky. If he was unlucky, which was most of his life, he was given nightmares.

Hector woke up with a shot in a cold sweat. Hyperventilating as if he had actually been running from his mental phantoms. The commotion obviously woke his partner beside him, who calmly sat up and gently placed their hand on his shoulder. “Is everything ok?”

He shook his head. His hands coming up to rub his palms into his eyes, as if to scrub the image of his nightmare out of them. “Another bad dream?”

He nodded. His breathing regulating a little bit as he started to calm down. Hector felt embarrassed and very small, but knew there was little he could do about his mind when left free. “Do you want me to do the usual?”

Hector nodded again and curled back into bed around his partner. They pulled out a small guitar from beside the bed and began to play. It was the only thing that seemed to get him back to sleep after one of his fits. The slow, calm melody able to soothe him. He wasn’t sure what the song was. His partner never told him. He couldn’t tell you if it was an old melody or one that they made up, but the tune was always the same and soon he was drifting off to sleep again. Wishing for darkness instead of dreams. Holding on to his lover and their tune like wards to keep the nightmares at bay.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#castlevania #castlevania hector #hector x reader #castlevania hector x reader #castlevania netflix #castlevania imagine #castlevania scenarios #castlevania series #imagine #scenarios #hector

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unreadpoppy · 11 months ago

Text

Wild Magic Surge

A little something based on a moment that happened while I played. Enjoy.

Summary: Gwen discovers that she can summon cambions midway through a particularly nasty fight.

This was a most inopportune time.

They were losing the fight. Badly. Gale was crying for help, with Halsin trying to get near him to heal the wizard up. Gwen had misty stepped too far away from Shadowheart, and so the cleric couldn’t see where she was. Dame Aylin was a great help but she kept missing and Rolan was doing his best to support.

‘I never figured a wizard would be this hard to kill’ Gwen thought to herself.

As she managed to kill the opponent closest to her, Gwen began to mentally count how many scrolls of revivification she had, for the odds were distinctively not in their favor.

And that’s when she felt it. That tingling feeling at the tip of her fingers, the way the air almost began to move differently. While Gwen loved her powers, there was one thing that was sure to cause problems.

Wild magic surge.

She couldn’t control it when it happened nor what it brought. Sometimes, she’d go weeks without having trouble. Others, it was every day. But no matter when, it always happened when Gwen least needed it. For example, one time the surge made her, Karlach and Shadowheart all become cats and dogs. Cat Karlach had still been able to kill a goblin, so it wasn’t that worrisome then.

Still, she didn’t like her odds.

As Gwen cast magic missile on her enemies, she felt the effects of a wild magic surge taking place. In a puff of smoke, she had summoned a being from another plane. Usually, she’d expect a mephit but this time it was a familiar figure.

In fact, a very familiar cambion.

Raphael.

…

Raphael was having a peaceful day, for once since meeting the tadpole adventurers, when he was snatched from his house by forces unknown. Looking around, he seemed to be in some sort of tower, in a balcony, surrounded by books.

But also, he was very clearly in the middle of a fight.

He saw Gale of Waterdeep, on the other side of the room, in a balcony, casting spells from a safe distance. A bear was underneath him, beside the ladder, surrounded by two elementals. Shadowheart, the cleric, had slipped on the mud in the floor and was prone. The aasimar missed yet again and a tiefling Raphael had never seen before cast a spell powerful enough to end one of the elements.

“Oh great, what in the hells are you doing here?” He heard a familiar female voice behind him speak up.

It was the little mouse, Gwen, all bruised and bloody.. Looking down, a red haired man lay beside her, probably dead.

“I should ask you.” He exclaimed, hearing the wizard shouting as he cast a spell. “How did you summon me?!”

“I didn’t! It just happened!” She shouted. Gwen looked past him at the chaos happening in battle. “You know what? Since you’re already here, you might as well help!” She said.

“WHAT?!” He shouted. You will not make me-”

Before he could finish, another elemental had gotten up to where they were and beat him. Raphael slowly turned around, angry. Without a moment’s hesitation, he struck the creature, wounding it badly.

Gwen saw that and smiled. “That was good! Keep it up.” She said. Raphael rolled his eyes.

…

Eventually, all but one of the elementals were dead.

“I can’t see him!” Shadowheart shouted towards Gwen. “I think they became invisible.”

The tiefling groaned. “Gale, do you have any see invisibility scrolls?”

The wizard rummaged through his things but found nothing. He shook his head. Gwen sighed. The good thing about the creature turning invisible was that it allowed the party some time to rest.

The bad part is that, thanks to Volo’s botched surgery, Gwen was the only one capable of seeing the invisible. She would have to go where the elemental had last been seen by anybody and hope she’d be able to off it before it knocked her out instead.

“What’s happening?” Raphael asked. At this point, he had transformed into his more devilish form, wings spreading around.

“There’s one elemental left and the bitch turned invisible.” She brushed past him, towards the ladder. “I have to go find it.”

Before he could argue, considering how in such a poor state she was, Gwen had already misty stepped towards one of the floating furniture.

The elemental was revealed and before she could even react, the creature struck her, Gwen falling down. However, Shadowheart dealt the final blow and soon, the druid Halsin - now back to his normal form - rushed towards the tiefling, healing her up.

Raphael flew down to where they were, seeing Gwen standing up on shaky legs, supported by the large elf. The others had gathered around.

“What are you doing here?” The cleric asked him.

He pointed a clawed finger towards Gwen. “She summoned me here, I do not know how.”

“I think…it was… the surge.” She breathed out. Halsin cast another healing spell.

“Ah, wild magic surge.” Gale exclaimed. “I remember reading somewhere that powerful sorcerers were capable of summoning cambions to our plane of existence during one of these events.” He looked Raphael up and down. “This is probably what happened.

The devil scrunched his nose. He was aware of how the wizard felt towards him but chose to ignore it. For now.

“I shall take my leave, then.” Raphael turned to look at the Nightsong snapping the red haired wizard’s back. “Before she does that to me.”

Gwen chuckled, clutching her side as she did so. “Well, thanks for the help.” He nodded his head and snapped himself away.

“This was…weird.” The druid said.

“Yeah.” Gwen said. “Let’s hope this doesn’t happen again. We already have Mizora to deal with, don’t need another cambion fooling around.”

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #shadowheart #halsin #gale #Tav #bg3 #i'm not tagging ships cause nothing romantic happens #raphael baldur's gate 3

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dweetwise · 2 years ago

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[Serennedy] All chained up

Based on that one scene in RE4make. You know the one. Ship: Leon X Luis Rated E | 3.6k words | ao3 link

Leon awoke with a start.

His heart was still pounding from his fight with the giant priest and subsequent nightmare of a cloaked figure.

Shoving the memories to the side, Leon focused on the problem at hand. He was in an unassuming, barren room, stripped of his weapons and supplies and chained to the ceiling with thick metal cuffs and a robust chain. For some reason, the murderous villagers had opted to merely imprison instead of slaughter him when they’d had the chance.

Leon grit his teeth and yanked on the chain. To his surprise, the chain gave, and a pained grunt sounded from behind him.

“Oye, stop it!” a man’s voice hissed. Leon peered over his shoulder, and…

Saw the idiot he’d found in the lakeside settlement chained right beside him. Great.

Using the slack from the chain, Leon turned to assess the situation. They were both handcuffed to the same chain, fastened to a pulley wheel in the ceiling. It looked sturdy, but if Leon pulled hard enough…

“I told you to stop that!” the stranger spat, stumbling forward from the momentum. “You move, I move—and I’m beat up enough as it is.”

Leon contemplated telling him he didn’t give a single fuck. He opted to glare instead.

“The quiet type, eh?” the man asked, then offered, “I’m Luis Serra.”

“I don’t care,” Leon said. “How do we get out of here?”

“Mierda, are all Yanquis this rude?” Luis sighed and shook his head.

“It’s called being efficient,” Leon shot back. He wrapped the chain around his hands and pulled again—to a yelp from Luis that he pretended not to hear—but the pulley’s fastenings didn’t budge.

“All work and no play, huh?” Luis grinned, which only proved that he was far from seriously injured. “Bet you’ve been in spots like this before.”

Leon resolutely ignored the small talk and looked around the room for anything useful.

“My guess is, you’re here looking for someone,” Luis kept going. God, did he ever shut up?

Unsurprisingly, there weren’t any bolt cutters or keys laying around, but Leon could see an axe on the wall—just out of reach, of course.

Luis hummed. “Maybe… a missing señorita?”

Dread shot through Leon and he whipped around, only to find the man smirking. Figures: the sleazeball was obviously more than some helpless civilian.

In one quick move, Leon pulled on the chain hard, making Luis curse and lose his footing, until he was helplessly dangling from the pulley, hands held high above his head. Leon stepped close, an intimidating presence to the man who had suddenly become a worthwhile interrogation target.

“Talk. Now,” Leon spat.

“Woah, hey,” Luis said, still grinning. “If you wanted to get to know me better, all you had to do was ask.”

Leon grit his teeth. “Tell me what you know about the girl.”

“Come now, amigo.” Luis smiled and cocked his head. “We are in this together, yes? Where is the trust?”

“And why the hell should I trust you?”

“Because torture or threats of torture is a sure way to receive false information.” Luis frowned. “Don’t they teach you that in America, officer?”

“That’s agent to you,” Leon said. He wasn’t bothered about the rest of the man’s concerns: throughout all of his years of training for the job, Leon had learned plenty of creative torture methods that would get people very willing to tell the truth.

“My mistake, then.” Luis smiled. “But, seeing as we’re in a stalemate of sorts, why don’t we make a deal?”

Leon glared. “In your dreams.”

“At least hear me out, yes?” Luis said. “My part of the deal is that I will answer your questions to the best of my abilities. In return, you help me with my problem.”

That… didn’t sound too bad, actually. Leon had never particularly enjoyed the violence that his new job entailed, and if he could get the information he needed out of Luis without actually hurting anyone…

Leon mentally shook himself. Focus, agent. He wasn’t that blue-eyed rookie from six years ago anymore. He’d had to kill and bury the Leon that always wanted to help people in need. Now, there was only the job, and in this line of work, easy solutions tended to come with a catch.

“What problem?” Leon asked.

Luis smirked, which didn’t bode well. “It is a, how do you say… private matter.”

Leon glared harder. “I’m not in the mood for your games—”

“Mierda, just look down,” Luis sighed.

Skeptically, Leon did—though first squeezing the chain harder so Luis wouldn’t try anything. His gaze traveled over the man’s tacky jacket and he stamped down on the inexplicable relief that he found no visible injuries or even tears in the fabric.

Similarly, Luis’ pants and shoes were dirty but seemed otherwise intact, and Leon was about to ask what the hell he was on about when he spotted it:

A very obvious bulge in the man’s already tight pants.

“Are you serious!?” Leon’s head snapped up only to yell in Luis’ face. “At a time like this!?”

“What?” Luis shrugged. “I have been surrounded by nothing but ugly villagers for days, and then a muscled bonito rescues me. Can you blame Luisito for getting excited?”

Leon’s face was flaring red—from rage, probably—and he very nearly physically recoiled. “You're disgusting.”

That infuriating smirk was back. “Yet you need me, hm?”

Leon’s jaw clenched in annoyance. Luis was right: Leon sorely needed his cooperation, both for information about Baby Eagle’s situation and to stand a chance of taking out the guards that would inevitably come back for them.

“A simple trade,” Luis said. “I answer all of your questions, and you give me a hand with my… not-so-little problem.”

It seemed like a fair trade. Leon wasn’t an idiot: he knew firsthand how effective seduction could be as a means to get something you wanted out of an unsuspecting target. How it made people willing not only to do what you asked, but to go that extra mile, to give everything just to impress you—

Leon mentally shook himself, away from the memories of a red dress and flirty little smile. He’d never thought he’d be on the other end of that bargain, using his looks or nonexistent charm to seduce his target into cooperating.

But, well, this time the work was mostly done for him. Luis was obviously attracted to him even if Leon had done nothing but manhandle and yell at him. And Luis himself wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes, as long as he’d shut up…

“You know, as sexy as your brooding face is, we don’t actually have all day,” Luis said.

This time, the annoyance Leon felt was accompanied by a spike of lust. He allowed himself to admit that Luis was handsome—if extremely annoying—and that if they’d met in different circumstances, Leon might have been curious to see what lay behind those warm brown eyes and infuriating smirk.

And now he could.

“Alright,” Leon said.

Luis actually startled at that, jolting in his restraints. “What?”

“I said alright,” Leon repeated. “You answer my questions, I’ll get you off. Or, well, try to, anyway.” He nodded to his still-cuffed hands.

The manic grin that spread over Luis’ face almost made Leon regret his decision.

“Oh, trust me, amigo, that will not be a problem,” Luis lowered his voice, looking at Leon with half-lidded eyes. “Just being chained to you nearly has me bursting in my pants.”

“Well.” Leon cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“Then I accept,” Luis said, then smiled and rattled his handcuffs. “I’d shake your hand, but…”

“No need,” Leon said.

He tightened the grip he had on the chains and pulled, yanking Luis just that much higher, making him wince and stumble to balance on his toes—though tellingly, he didn’t protest the rough treatment.

“Now tell me what you know about the girl,” Leon ordered.

“Well, see, before I was shoved into the bag you found me in…” Luis said. “I heard chatter about moving a señorita.”

“Moving her,” Leon repeated. This sounded promising. “Where?”

“Who knows?” Luis did his best attempt at a shrug with his hands above his head. Leon glared and grabbed the chain— “But!” Luis continued. “Later, I saw some men dragging someone… to the old church.”

A church; Leon could work with that. A town this small probably only had one church. It was a decent lead.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it,” Leon said. Feeling bold, he stepped closer, until his thigh was barely brushing against Luis’ crotch. “Anything else you wanna tell me?”

“No, that’s all I know about the señorita, I swear,” Luis said, feebly trying to grind against Leon’s leg, though it was impossible without leverage. “God, Yanqui…”

“Leon,” he said, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and stepped back. “My name is Leon.”

“Leon, please,” Luis begged, and why was hearing his name from this man so arousing? “Touch me.”

Leon steeled himself even as his hands twitched, wanting to comply. “Tell me what you’re doing here first.”

“I’m—I’m a police officer,” Luis panted. “Sent from Madrid to investigate the disappearance of people around the village.”

“You? A cop?” Leon snorted. “Try again.”

“No, please, I’m telling the truth,” Luis whined. He was clearly starting to get desperate. “Me and my partner were undercover to infiltrate the village. But the people here, well… if you don’t have red eyes and a pitchfork and try to kill everyone in sight, it’s difficult to fit in.”

Leon hummed. That seemed pretty plausible, as his police escorts from earlier had talked about people disappearing. Maybe another policeman going AWOL had made the whole precinct reluctant to visit the village.

“Now, please, I answered your question…” Luis said.

Leon let go of the chain to lower Luis back onto his feet and earned a grateful sigh. He stepped close and reached out his joined hands to awkwardly palm over Luis' pants.

“Yes—God, Leon, yes,” Luis moaned.

Leon felt his cheeks heating up as he rubbed the rough leather over the hard shaft underneath. Jesus, this was really doing it for Luis, huh? Leon’s own dick twitched in sympathy, trapped in his combat pants, but he ignored it in favor of clumsily unbuttoning Luis’ pants and pulling his dick out.

Leon swallowed and felt sweat trickle down his neck from the rising temperature of the room. Luis was thick and uncut, the head of his dick almost purple with how hard he was.

"Oh, god, Leon…" Luis said when Leon experimentally stroked up and then down.

Leon couldn't take his eyes off the sight of Luis' dick sliding in his hand. Coarse black hair surrounded the base and trailed up under Luis' jacket and Leon imagined how it would feel brushing against his nose, if his mouth was full of Luis and—

Leon cleared his throat and focused on stroking with his limited movements. “This good?”

“So good, querido, so good,” Luis praised. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t if you keep talking,” Leon said, remembering what he was supposed to be doing. “How did you get captured? What happened to your partner?”

“Ah, mierda. We split up when we arrived; he started with the castle and I started with the village—oh, just like that.” Luis sighed in pleasure as Leon worked the foreskin over his shaft.

Luis’ legs were trembling but he seemed to be doing his best to answer. Something in Leon felt oddly pleased.

"And?" Leon prompted.

“And in the village, I barely managed to ask for directions before the locos were throwing axes at my head," Luis huffed.

"Hmm," Leon commented. He rewarded Luis with a twist of his palm over the head of his cock, already leaking copiously.

Luis gasped and his hips jerked up into Leon's hands. “Please, Leon—”

“In a minute,” Leon said. “How did they catch you?”

"Well, obviously, I ran,” Luis said. “But our car was at the castle on the other side of the lake, and I hid in the forest for days before they finally caught me and brought me to the place you thankfully found me at.”

Shit, it really sounded like Luis was just another victim in this whole clusterfuck of a mission. Not only was he proving helpful with information, but he’d probably be a good person to have by his side fighting out of here, too.

“Any further questions, amigo?” Luis smiled. “Or can we get on with it?”

Leon bit back a smile and rewarded Luis with a firm stroke of his hand that had the man gasping. Because despite the grating humor, Luis was a good man, was cooperating and giving himself to Leon so sweetly—

“Oh,” Luis said, his downright lecherous grin pulling Leon from his thoughts. “Looks like I’m not the only one excited about the situation.”

Luis’ eyes were glued to Leon’s crotch and he swallowed the humiliation of getting caught: he’d been hard for a good while, now.

“I’m not…” Leon tried. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say. Aroused? Attracted to men? Both were clearly not true.

“Oh, loosen up, amigo,” Luis scoffed. He lifted one of his legs, bending it at the knee. “Here. Grind against me.”

Leon flushed at the shameless display. He knew that he should argue, that his own pleasure wasn’t part of the deal, and that rutting up against a stranger wasn’t something he was eager to file into a mission report.

On the other hand, it wasn’t hurting anybody. Whether he liked it or not, Leon was stuck here, at least until a guard came back and he could steal a key or something. Nobody would know except him and Luis.

“Please,” Luis begged, desperation in his eyes. “I know you will feel so good. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, just please, Leon…”

And looking at Luis straining against his handcuffs, with his cock jutting out hard and leaking, the suave mask slipping with how much he was aching for it, Leon stopped resisting.

“Okay,” Leon said. “Okay, just hold on—”

Leon lowered Luis back down on his feet and hurried to unzip his own, too-tight pants. He breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled his erection free from its confines.

“Mierda, yes,” Luis moaned. “You look so good. Give it to me.”

With trembling legs, Leon stepped close, slotting his hips against Luis’ and making both of them groan when their dicks slid over each other.

“Yes, just like that,” Luis breathed, his eyes slipping shut.

Leon thrust against Luis, once then twice, and though it felt good, felt warm and hot and so very good against his throbbing dick… The position was awkward as they just stood there, hands uselessly chained together and Luis nearly stumbling with each of Leon’s thrusts, drastically reducing the much-needed friction between them.

And Leon couldn’t have that.

“Here.” Leon grunted with exertion as he pulled the chain taut above them and lifted Luis back into the air. “Wrap your legs around me, and—”

“Oh,” Luis breathed. He immediately hoisted himself up, surprisingly muscular legs squeezing around Leon’s hips and then dropping down, sliding his cock over Leon’s.

Leon bit his lip to stifle a groan; that had no business feeling as good as it did.

Luis, however, had no such inhibitions. He moaned long and loud and arched into it, shamelessly grinding his cock against Leon’s.

“Oh, this position was a wonderful idea,” Luis panted. “I take back everything I said about American stupidity.”

“You didn’t say anything about American stupidity.”

Luis grinned down at him, wild and completely unashamed. “It was implied.”

Leon huffed out something he would forever deny was a laugh and thrust up against Luis, feeling no small amount of satisfaction from the broken moan he earned for his efforts.

They quickly built up a rhythm; Luis raised and lowered himself against Leon’s crotch and Leon thrust up to grind against him on the downstroke. Each time, Leon’s cock rubbed against the silky hardness of Luis’ shaft and the roughness of his pants, pre-come wet and slippery between them as they chased their pleasure.

The room reeked of sweat and musk; Leon knew he didn’t exactly smell like roses on the second day of a mission and Luis had been stuck here for God knows how long. But after the stink of rot and death covering the whole village, the musky smell of their arousal might as well have been an expensive cologne from the way it made Leon’s cock harden and only encouraged him to thrust harder, faster, more.

“Fuck,” Leon cursed. “Fuck, Luis, you’re so…”

“I could say the same,” Luis grinned even as sweat pooled on his brow from exertion. “God, Leon, you feel so good—ah!”

Luis threw his head back in ecstasy, his mouth open in another moan as he rode Leon for all he was worth. And Leon watched: shamelessly stared at Luis’ face scrunched up in pleasure and the long line of his exposed throat working as he swallowed between the filthy noises escaping his mouth, all the while he worked his body against Leon’s.

“Shit,” Leon panted, the arousal building hard and fast. “I’m close.”

“Me too,” Luis said, picking up his pace, grinding against Leon’s dick. “Don’t stop, Leon, please don’t stop, I’m—”

Luis gasped and abruptly leaned in, kissing Leon hot and open-mouthed and groaning his release.

And Leon didn't do anything to stop him. He only moaned into Luis’ mouth and thrust up against Luis’ dick wetly spasming between them, working the other man through his orgasm.

Soon, Luis relaxed against him, pulling away from the sloppy kiss to murmur against Leon’s mouth. “Mm, that was nice.”

“Luis…” Leon’s whole body was trembling; he was so close.

“Oh, cariño.” Luis leaned his forehead against Leon’s, the endearment shooting straight to Leon’s cock. “Take what you need. Make yourself feel good.”

Luis kissed him properly, then, lips and tongue sliding against Leon’s and his stubble rasping against Leon’s chin. One of his hands came down to cradle Leon’s head, holding him in place.

Leon moaned, no longer caring how loud he was, thrusting up again and again, against Luis’ now softening dick and into the sticky mess between them.

Luis whined from oversensitivity, his hand tightening in Leon’s hair and pulling, and…

Leon came with a groan, pumping his release all over Luis’ spent dick and his stupid jacket.

Luis was still kissing him, humming in satisfaction as Leon came and came and came. The hand in Leon’s hair loosened its hold and—

Wait. The hand? The hand that was supposed to be cuffed overhead by the pulley wheel?

Luis’ legs left Leon’s sides and just as Leon pulled away from the kiss in confusion, the chain he’d been holding all this time went slack and he promptly fell backwards on his ass.

“What the hell!?” Leon demanded, struggling to right himself and fixing Luis with a demanding stare.

Luis, who was back on his feet, inexplicably free from his restraints and already buttoning his pants.

“Oops?” Luis grinned, not seeming the least bit apologetic. Something familiar and metallic glinted in his hand… A lockpick?

“Give me that!” Leon attempted to surge up for the item, but stumbled over the chain. Mortified, he realized that his dick was still out and hurried to put himself back into his pants.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Luis said, stepping back out of the chain’s reach. “Wouldn’t want you to injure such a pretty face.”

Realization crashed over Leon. “You’re not a police officer, are you?”

Luis grinned and twirled the lockpick between his fingers. “And here I thought you enjoyed our little roleplay.”

“So, what? You’re with them?” Leon sneered.

“Oh, please,” Luis scoffed. “I work solo. I have my own mission here, and now I know you aren't a threat to it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Leon said.

“You are Leon, an American agent; a highly esteemed special agent, I would guess, as you don’t have a team with you,” Luis said. “Your mission is to rescue the president's daughter who was kidnapped by the cultists. You were most likely hired by the American government or maybe even the president himself.”

Leon stared at the man before him who easily rattled off the details of Leon’s top secret mission. Gone were Luis’ easy smiles and the flirtation from before, replaced with a cold, analytical aura that Leon could scarcely recognize as the same man.

Then, it hit him. Luis had been able to get free from his chains this entire time. To get information out of Leon, Luis had chosen to let him believe that he was helpless, that Leon had full control over the situation. And just like that rookie six years ago, Leon had played right into his hands.

Luis tossed the lockpick on the floor, in full reach of Leon.

“Good luck, amigo,” Luis said. He wiped at a white stripe of spend on his jacket and then winked at Leon. “Thank you for the souvenir.”

Luis proceeded to saunter out of the door and Leon was left kneeling there, staring after Luis and feeling exactly like an idiot who had just been beaten at his own game.

He scrambled for the lockpick and set to removing his cuffs. Double-crossed or not, he still had a mission to complete.

#serennedy #leon s kennedy #luis serra #resident evil #resident evil 4 remake #leon x luis #smut #not dbd

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a-champion-of-stars · 6 months ago

Text

(Cw for a brief bit of violence)

[Lumiose City]

With the beginning of a sigh Hilda leaned back against the building. Two was still inside waiting for the stone to be properly fixed, and she had gotten oddly restless, taking it upon herself to step outside to get some fresh air for a moment.

The city was loud, quite loud compared to places she preferred to be, but somehow it wasn’t all that bad to be around.

The sounds of cars speeding down the road and people walking past all blended together into a cacophony of noise that fell into the back of her mind.

Somehow this was nearly calming, and she was just about to tune out the world entirely when something inside her jumped. It was like an instinct, warning her something was nearby. But what could it-

“Am I mistaking you for someone or-?”

It barely took a second for everything to click, and Hilda didn’t even stop to think as she realized who was speaking right behind her, swinging around and within a moment her fist had connected with the jaw of the man standing behind her.

She shook her hand out after, a buzzing pain ringing through it from the force of the punch she had just inflicted. The man had stumbled backwards, clearly in shock from both the hit and the force behind it.

“…should I take that as it is you?”

She didn’t respond to him, instead stretching her somewhat aching hand for a bit more.

“Hilda, right?”

Finally looking right at him, she lifted her left hand to respond.

“N.” She held the word as she stared right at him. The amount of things she was feeling at the moment was messy, and she wasn’t even sure how to describe it all, yet she couldn’t help but say something else before he had a chance to even respond.

“Sorry.” Hilda signed, slowly enough for him to catch it, but quick enough to drop her hand back to her side before he spoke.

“Well I can’t exactly say it was entirely unexpected.” N sighed, one hand still clutching the side of his jaw. “You never particularly liked me, and I can’t imagine that changed much considering…” His words trailed off, as though he didn’t quite want to fully bring up the past.

“Anyway…” The sentence faded out as quickly as it had started, and an awkward silence settled between the two for more than just a moment.

“What did you want to say to me?” Hilda asked slowly, seeming unsure of each word as she went, her gaze showing a genuine curiosity as she stared at N.

“What?”

“You approached me, clearly ready to speak before-”

“Before you punched me?”

“Yeah, before I punched you. What did you want to say?”

Another silence settled over the two of them, although this one a bit more brief.

“I’m not entirely sure.” He admitted in a somewhat diffident tone. “It’s just…I guess after everything it would've been weirder if I hadn’t said anything? It’s not exactly like I ever expected to run into you again or anything but still…”

“Do you want to talk?” She asked, mentally running through the nearest the routes the city led out to. If they were to have a conversation the middle of this busy city was possibly the worst place to get into things, for a multitude of reasons.

“Route 14 would be the best place to head if you do, a lot less people and there’s some forested areas for any needed cover, they wouldn’t mind talking to you either.” Hilda couldn’t help but be shocked by her own willingness to have a conversation with this man. She had spent so long harboring nothing but contempt for him, and yet here she was, more open to him than she’d ever thought possible.

“Really?” N sounded about as surprised as she felt about the whole thing. She just nodded in response.

“Since you’ve offered I see no reason not to, there’s plenty to discuss if you’re open to it.”

“One moment and we can get to it then.” She replied, taking her phone out of her pocket the moment she finished signing to send a quick text. While she wasn’t planning on going too far outside the city, leaving Two in the dark on where she was was not an incident she wanted to repeat.

When her phone was back in her pocket she began walking towards the nearest gateway, N following her out.

There was a lot to be said.

#(Featuring a bit promised to write on discord/lhj)#Hilda #N #Kalos arc #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #rotomblr #pokémon irl #pokemon irl #rotumblr #cw violence

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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

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Foreigner's God: Chapter 54

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Chapter Summary: Bad decisions make us human, but sometimes bad decisions are just plain bad. Unable to sleep, she finds herself at Josie's and on the verge of making a huge mistake. It's then she admits to herself how serious her condition really is and that she needs more help than just Matt by her side. He picks up when she calls and he doesn't hesitate to come and take her back home. Once there, she makes a decision that's as wise as it hurts both of them, and they find themselves dealing with their emotions in a way that's supposed to bring them closer one last time.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of drugs & alcohol, mentions of relapse, talk about abuse & murder, mentions of self-harm, SMUT, oral (f!receiving), nipple play, unprotected p in v, marking (?), sad sex, crying (related to the aforementioned sad sex), slight cockwarming, slight breeding kink if you squint (but this is Matt, come on!)

Word Count: 9.1k

A/n: IT'S ME, HI, I'M THE PROBLEM, IT'S ME! I have come to deliver angst again and a nice blow to your faces :) I haven't written smut in a while, so this was a challenge. But it's... well, you'll see. Anyway, queen of dropping random updates? Yeah. I don't know how to work on a schedule if my brain can't work on a schedule, so this is what you get. Adds a bit of spice with the element of surprise. (See what I did there?) But to be serious now, this chapter is very dear to me for many reasons and if you are struggling with mental illness, you will maybe find a piece of yourself in this too.

Read Chapter 54: Dancing With The Devil here on AO3!

Eyes wide open, she stared at the man next to her. He looked so peaceful, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She could feel his heart beating against her palm. A mixture of blue and red managed to break through the closed curtain, painting his face in a gentle purple. There were no wrinkles on his face at night. His skin was smooth as all worry seemed to fall off of his shoulders and he simply basked in the warmth that surrounded him, hoping that the nightmares would stay away. Some nights, he was more alert, but whenever the exhaustion exceeded what he could sustain, he was out like a light.

Eliza ran her knuckles over his cheekbone before she turned on her back, eyes redirecting toward the ceiling.

“You will never be able to escape who you truly are. You were born a monster and you are always going to be a monster. It’s only natural. You need to embrace it. No one can love the real you the way you deserve and crave. I’m the only one who understands. I’m the only one who can help you, and you should be grateful for that.”

She shook her head. Viktor’s voice was particularly loud that night, and she wasn’t even asleep. She was trapped in an awake nightmare that didn’t seem to end. It transcended what she encountered in the depths of her subconscious.

The words bounced off of every corner of her brain. She tried to shake him off, but he was everywhere.

“I never meant to disappoint you!” the little girl cried as she knelt in front of the bed in the ghastly decorated room. He promised she would move someplace else if she was obedient enough, but that day never came.

The belt hit the sore skin of her back hard, opening old wounds and forming even thicker skin over the already protruding scars that had formed. The leather stung, the pain burning, but most of her skin was numb to the pain at this point. She told herself not to cry, but the belt was harsh and his words hurt her in ways that made her feel weak.

“Stop crying and pray like a good little girl,” he growled behind her.

The eight-legged monster on the wall stared down at her with disappointing eyes, it seemed, and she cowered in shame. Her forehead dropped to the bed as she gritted her teeth and began to recite the prayer she had gotten used to over time. And the blood continued trickling down her bed and painting the white floor a dark shade of crimson.

Eliza sat up. Her back itched. The scars were old, but they were there. She thought about them, how they looked, and how they felt under her fingers, and she hissed when a sharp burn spread through her body.

She was in pain. She couldn’t pinpoint where because her entire being resembled a bonfire. Her skin glowed bright red as it started to turn into ashes. Worst of all though was the ache deep within her chest, a pain she couldn’t describe. It left a gaping hole in her soul, and her muscles burned and tore as they tried to keep her glued together. She pressed a hand to her chest, but she was helpless. The pain choked her up, but she had no tears left to cry. She was simply tired.

She wasn’t strong enough. She had promised Matt that she would get help, but she didn’t know how to fix whatever was wrong with her because it seemed like she was broken beyond repair, and this time it was true. She thought it was true. There was no fight left in her except the desperate need to fight the pain in her chest, to numb herself, and the anger that made her uneasy caused her mind to reel not only about Viktor but about everything else she encountered the past few days. She was angry at herself and the world, but the man she was supposed to be the most angry at suddenly seemed more like a godsend to her than anything else. At least physically, Viktor was gone.

The agony that consumed her continued to make its way through her body and paralyze her to the bone.

She got up and out of bed. Quietly, trying not to disturb Matt, she slipped some clothes on. She picked up one of his hoodies and pulled the hood into her face.

The night was unusually calm when she stepped out. The cool air hit her face. She looked up at the sky, the stars shining brightly above and fighting for dominance against each other. The peace was idyllic.

She began to walk down the street, her head hung low. If Matt woke up, she was screwed, but she didn’t care. She cared about nothing at all, only pain and despair, and the desperation drove her into the more lively part of town that she had once sworn she would never frequent again.

The lights of the sign above the door flickered a little, but the red letters still shone brighter than the streetlights.

Josie’s.

Eliza hesitated. Her common sense asked her what she was doing and that she should just think before acting on irrational thoughts, but her thoughts were anything but irrational. They made perfect sense. She had an ache and it needed to be soothed. Sleep wasn’t a remedy that worked, Matt couldn’t help her and time was running out. She had no more patience left, and she was too weak to fight back. Those were all rational points that made her decision plausible, at least to her. Her common sense disagreed and screamed for her to stop, but the door handle was already under her fingertips and before she knew it, her feet carried her into the bustling bar.

Josie looked up from behind the counter. As Eliza removed the hood and stared back at her, recognition flashed across her face. The conflicted emotions didn’t make sense; they ranged from anger to relief to something else entirely, but then the woman stepped closer and nodded toward the barstool. It was a silent agreement.

After Eliza paid for the renovations of the bar and it reopened after a few weeks, the business had picked up speed. Josie was making more money and the customers were happy, especially with the slightly more modern flair that still reminded them of the bar it used to be. The nostalgia remained, but it looked better and a lot more people could enjoy themselves now. It was Josie’s dream, and Eliza made it happen. She made up for what she screwed up, for what Hydra did. She paid for it in more ways than one.

Going back to Josie’s brought up unwelcome memories, but she was a masochist. If she was going to ruin her life, she wanted to do it someplace she was comfortable. Someplace she knew. Someplace that would make the guilt so much worse and the pain relief so much better. There were enough tables she could drink herself under, after all.

A glass landed in front of her on the counter. The liquid looked clear and the strong stench of pure alcohol hit her nose. She looked at Josie, then back at the drink.

“Tequila, right?” said Josie.

Eliza nodded. This was a bad idea. “Do you have any salt and lemons?” she asked.

She should have said no, but it wasn’t what she felt like saying. The smell was familiar and it instantly drew her close.

It was just a little shot, she would be fine. Right? It wasn’t like she wanted to do this every night, she just needed something to disinfect her wounds inside and make her forget for only just a moment. She had to face the pain again the next day, so for the moment she wanted nothing more than to do the opposite, and then she could fix it. It couldn’t be that hard, she thought.

She had it under control.

Josie placed a lemon on one side of the glass, then a small pack of salt on the other. Eliza stared at it.

What was she doing?

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the sobriety chip she had kept from her last meeting. The metal carried the weight of so much hope mixed with indescribable amounts of pain as she recalled her journey.

But she’d had it under control before that. Right?

The chip clicked against the wood of the counter. Josie eyed her, waiting for her move from the other end of the bar as she dried the glasses on the rack before her.

Eliza was playing with fire, and the game was still pretty much on as the voices in her head fought against the demons that were more than happy to agree with her decision, but every other bone in her body wasn’t.

Her heart had made its decision, but her mind was not yet made up.

“You have a choice,” Natasha told her in the crowded nightclub in downtown Manhattan. “Tequila,” she placed the glass before her, “or water.” Another glass was placed next to the shot, each just as see-through as the other.

She looked at her, the apathy visible. Dark circles adorned her eyes, the music deafening her hearing. She was numb. The weed from the joint she had smoked before made her dizzy and she could have sworn she saw Jesus on the other end of the room.

Natasha’s eyes were stern yet pleading, but she found no bone in her body to care about that.

“I just want to help, Liz. Please, let me help.”

A few seconds of silence passed by. Then, Eliza lifted the glass on the right, looked her straight in the eyes, and said, “No.” She took the shot, the liquor burning down her already stressed esophagus.

A couple of weeks later, Natasha found her unconscious on the bathroom floor in her room in the compound, a pill bottle next to her limp body.

In the far right corner of the bar, a group of men sat around one of the tables. They had their backs turned, but the only one facing the front tilted his head back with a loud sniff, and Eliza found herself alone with these men in her mind, taking the small plastic package from them and spreading the white powder they were trying to shield out before her. She saw herself repeating the same motion the stranger had just done, feeling the tiny crystals go into her bloodstream through the skin of her nose, and the sudden feeling of being wide awake filled her with a need to get what she wanted.

They surely carried pills with them as well. Orange capsules or the same plastic packages that held the cocaine. Maybe they were colorful, maybe they were white. Maybe they even carried weed in their pockets for good measures, but she usually knew better than to pair alcohol with weed. The times she did it didn’t end so well.

Though as she watched the men and speculated what they were carrying, wondering if they had Oxy in their jeans, something to take away the pain more permanently than a glass of tequila and she was about to get up and ask them in a way only they would understand, suddenly it wasn’t Natasha anymore who burst into the bathroom as she lay there, fighting for her life as the drugs coursed through her system and clogged her veins.

Eliza imagined Matt finding her on the side of the road after realizing she wasn’t in bed with him anymore, and the search would lead him straight to her limp body. She saw herself either drunk or high in a ditch, on the verge of death all over again, and in her head, he was holding her and crying all the tears he had left and then some more. The heartbreaking picture reminded her of what she saw when she was bleeding out, what she heard him pray into her ear and all the days after that, the endless devotion, the fear of losing her… The switch flicked. The darkness was cut through by the light. The demons in her head scrambled as the rational part of her brain finally won and started screaming at her again.

Stop.

Just stop.

And this time, she listened. Eliza slapped a few dollar bills on the counter and got up.

She left the sobriety chip with Josie, who stared after her with a knowing look, making sure to keep the chip someplace safe in case she ever came back for it.

She didn’t deserve that chip, not after what she had just almost done. It was better left in the hands of someone else. Physically, she was sober, but she could feel the need to tear the cocaine from the men at the back of the bar and do something she knew she would regret, and that was something she could not live with. Inside, she was high, and it scared her how real it felt.

Storming out of the bar, her breathing grew rapid. She walked around the nearest corner and pressed her back against the wall.

What was she thinking?

She ran her hands through her hair, trying to calm her breath. The breeze outside offered a sweet relief from the heat she felt bubbling up under her clothes. She was sure she was still running a fever, and the wounds under the bandages around her knuckles itched, but she couldn’t unwrap them in a dirty alley in the middle of the night. She simply had to endure it like she endured everything else.

Tears started to well up in her eyes. She was such an idiot. Her hand quivered, the smell of liquor still stuck in her nose. She craved it. She found herself surrounded by bars and every single one seemed to scream for her to go inside. Her body screamed for it now that it almost got a taste of the sweet heaven that only appeared as such and was actually a treacherous demon from hell.

She patted her pants down until she found her phone. With shaky fingers, Eliza pulled it out and searched for the contact at the top of her list.

It rang a total of four times before the line clicked.

“Why on earth aren’t you in bed right now?”

She whimpered at the sound of his voice. She should never have left. She should have woken him up and told him. But he looked so peaceful and she didn’t want to be a burden again. She always was.

Well, he was awake now, anyway.

He could hear her helpless whimper, her unsteady breathing, and the rapid beating of her heart even through the phone. It wasn’t hard to pick up on his scent across the city, her body covered in it, but her distinctive scent wasn’t so far off either. It mingled with the taste of alcohol and a promise of oncoming rain.

“I–“ she tried to speak, but words failed her.

“Where are you?”

“Josie’s,” she whispered.

“Are you okay?”

She hesitated before answering, “No.”

Matt sighed, already halfway dressed by the time her soft cries echoed in his ear.

“Matty, I need help.”

This time, it wasn’t an admission like the day before, it was a cry for help. It was her asking him to save her from herself, her voice weak as she found herself on the verge of breaking.

“I’ll be right there,” he said. “Don’t move. Just give me a few minutes. Stay on the phone with me, okay?”

His voice was soft. He wasn’t angry, he didn’t hate her, he was willing to come and pick her up. He cared. And she was foolish to think she was all alone. She just felt lonely, but she wasn’t alone, and that loneliness came from a dark place within her that needed to be filled somehow. She just wasn’t sure how much more she could do, and how much more pain she could possibly endure. She was oh so tired.

He listened to her breathing as he made his way outside in a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, grabbing a jacket in case she needed one. He hailed a cab and told the driver the address, all the while listening to Eliza’s labored breathing on the other end of the line. She whimpered, the tears rolling down her cheeks like crystal waterfalls.

She sat on the dirty floor of the alley behind Josie’s, just waiting. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but eventually, the familiar clicking of Matt’s cane filled her ears and she turned her head. The call ended as he stood there, seemingly staring into her soul, but also with relief all over his face.

He folded his cane. “Sweetheart,” he called softly.

She sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

He knelt before her, his hands moving to her shoulders. Behind his glasses, she couldn’t see much, but he was worried.

“Did you–“ he didn’t finish.

Eliza shook her head.

“Okay. Okay, I believe you.”

“I almost did.”

“But you didn’t. That’s good.”

“I’m sorry,” she choked on a broken sob, “I shouldn’t have left.”

Matt didn’t act on it immediately. He urged her to get off the dirty floor and stand, taking her into his arms. She was fragile, weak on her feet, and she melted into the hug.

“You scared me,” he admitted.

She whimpered, the tears flowing freely now.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I… I couldn’t,” she cried.

“Jesus.” He held her even tighter.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now.”

“You came.”

“Of course, I came.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you for calling me instead of… instead of making a mistake. The last thing I want for you is to do something that’ll hurt you.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” she continued to sob into his chest, her fist clenching around the collar of his shirt. “I’m so sorry. I screwed up.”

“It’s okay,” Matt shushed her again. “You’re okay,” he said.

“I’m so scared–“ she hiccuped, “so scared of myself.”

“I know. I know it’s scary, baby. But you’re struggling. It’s okay. Shhh. Breathe. Breathe for me. Like we practiced, okay? C’mon.”

She tried her best to follow his instructions. His warmth and the comfort of his arms shielded her from the world, and she allowed herself to calm down.

“There you go. That’s my girl.” He pulled away slightly, his face close to hers. “Are you alright otherwise? Did you get hurt?” Matt began to check her face for possible injuries, but she simply shook her head. “Okay, that’s good.” And he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I’m just in pain.”

“Where?”

“Inside.”

His unfocused eyes lay somewhere behind her, but his face grew softer. He stroked her cheek, then a hand through her hair and pulled her back into himself.

She began to think. She couldn’t even leave the house without becoming a danger to herself. How was she supposed to solve whatever the deal was with the Punisher and deal with the thoughts Viktor put into her head that didn’t want to die even though he was pretty much dead? She was scared, terrified even. Her skin tingled. She could feel the force of her powers pushing against her conscience, wanting nothing more than to defend herself from getting hurt. Every time she felt threatened, she seemed to implode, and soon enough, the same thing that happened days before would happen again, and maybe this time someone would get seriously hurt. Matt could get hurt.

She thought back to what Strange said. She was a danger and her powers could destroy rather than save. Hydra proved as much without even knowing the true extent. She was fragile and the blood she carried inside and kept her alive was at risk of turning against her in that state. If she exploded and hurt someone, the Punisher was sure to come after her.

She and Matt barely understood what they were dealing with. Her presence kept him from finding out, but she could tell he was burning with rage to find whoever was messing with his city, twisting the true meaning of serving justice into something cruel and murderous.

She thought a lot of things, but the most prominent hurt her the most. She was holding Matt back, hurting and exhausting him, and even though he loved her unconditionally, she felt awful for doing it. And perhaps it wasn’t the right environment for her to heal because like this, she was no use to anyone, and she was afraid he couldn’t fix it this time.

He whispered something about going on and then they were in a cab and driving home. Her head dropped to his shoulder, curling her arms around his. She didn’t want to let him go. It hurt. But the inevitable seemed so plausible, it hit her in the face.

Matt paid the driver and helped her inside. The floorboards creaked under their weight. He removed his glasses and made his way forward, hands slightly stretched out at his sides as he tried to feel his way forward.

“Sit down, I’ll make us some tea,” he said softly.

Eliza didn’t move. She stood in the hallway, her eyes directed toward the floor.

He stopped and turned to her. “Sweetheart?”

“I think–“ she cleared her throat. “I think I have to leave,” she said.

“What are you talking about?” He chuckled softly. “We just got home and it’s the middle of the night. I won’t let you leave again.”

“That’s not– that’s not what I meant. I… I need to leave. Here.”

His face dropped. He returned from the kitchen and stepped closer to her. “What?” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I need to move out, at least for a while.”

“Sweetheart, what are you on about? This is your home.”

“And it will always be, but… I’m not okay, we can’t deny that, and this place… Let’s face it, I’m holding you back. You always take such good care of me, but you’re burning to get back out there and solve whatever it is that’s going on right under our noses. You want to understand. You’re Daredevil and Matt Murdock. I know I can’t have one without the other, and I love your dedication. I love you so much, I can’t do this to you anymore,” she said, and the tears finally started to fall.

The shock was written all over his face. He hoped to hear in her heartbeat that it was a mere overreaction, that she was going to come around and tell him, “I was just kidding.” But her heartbeat never faltered. Her breathing, albeit labored, didn’t change its rhythm. She was telling the truth, and the pain seeped out of her pores like acid because damn, admitting it hurt.

Matt swallowed, still staring at her, or pretending to anyway. “No,” he whispered. He didn’t want to believe that it was the truth. She needed help but he could help her. He did before. She could get better with him and they could solve it together.

But deep down he knew she needed time and they didn’t have time. He didn’t. He couldn’t stay away for so long, even though he wanted nothing more than to stay by her side. He hated that she was right. He hated it so much.

She started pacing, her tired legs growing stronger with determination. “I can’t stand being trapped in here any longer. Not- not that I’m trapped, I just… I’m trapped in my head and I have so much trauma and so many memories I can’t sort. It’s confusing. I mean, I can’t even leave the house without becoming a danger to myself. I almost took drugs tonight, Matt. I even had a glass of tequila right in front of me. I was so ready to let the demons win, to let the darkness take over because I needed the pain to stop. I needed to forget. And I still do! But life just keeps stabbing me in the stomach, and it’s a feeling I can’t fucking stand anymore. I’m so tired,” she broke off with a sob.

He reached out, but she shied away. He called her name, but she turned away.

“No,” she collected herself again as she said, “I’m not okay, I have to admit that and I have to do something instead of just sitting around and then falling back into old patterns even though I know I shouldn’t. I’m not strong enough, and you can’t fix it this time. I believe I wasn’t healed after I almost died, not fully, and I pushed away the trauma I suffered to be happy with you and I was. With you, I am always happy, but I am not happy with myself or this life, and Viktor’s death just proved to me how much of an impact he had on me.”

She was speaking straight from her soul, and while part of him was proud of her for finally saying it, he loathed the sound of it, the agony in her voice, and the fact he couldn’t just reach out and touch her and make it all go away.

“Sweetheart, please,” he begged. “We can find a way through this, I told you. I don’t need to go out and be Daredevil when I have you. We make sure you’re okay and then we go after this son of a bitch. That was the deal.”

“Let’s face it, the deal was foolish. Because just therapy and talking about it won’t make it okay. Just think about what happened–“

“Please,” the tears reached him now too, breaking through the defenses he had built around himself, and he swallowed. The first droplet found its way out of the corner of his eye. “I need you. We need each other. I can help you,” he said.

Eliza’s features softened. “You can’t. You’re only human and you just can’t fix me. I need to find another way, and it’s not your responsibility. I don’t want you to hold back and then this guy… he could get away and we can’t let that happen. I know you can catch him, so that’s what I want you to do. Catch him,” she said.

He shook his head. “Not without you.”

“I’m not okay!” Her voice rose an octave. “And I can’t fight like this. You know I can’t.”

“No…”

“I live in constant fear of… God, of this guy finding me, and it’s triggering my powers to go haywire. I can feel it. I’m barely hanging onto what little control I have left and I hate how it makes me feel. I’m physically weak, mentally exhausted, and without time, I can’t fight. I can’t function and we both know that, Matthew. Viktor’s in my head every fucking day and night, and the flashbacks won’t stop. I’m going crazy and I… I need to pull myself out of it and get my head straight before I can even think about putting on that suit again. I love you,” her lip quivered, “but I can’t stay here. I need to be somewhere else and get better. Just for a few days, maybe a few weeks. I need to get out. I need to… I need to go back to my roots and figure shit out there. I need to go home.”

“This is your home,” he whispered.

“You are my home,” Eliza corrected him, “and I love living with you, but I need space, and for that, I need to go home. I need to tell Mrs. Darcy that I won’t be seeing her tomorrow because I need to get out first, and then I’ll ask if we can find a solution so I won’t have to go out because I can’t… I need to be someplace familiar, someplace that’s not here because I’m just in too much pain here. I’m right in the middle of this mess, so I need to be somewhere that’s far away from that.”

“Eliza, I…” he couldn’t find the words to describe what he was feeling.

“I’m gonna continue therapy and I’m gonna get better. This is why I’m even doing this in the first place. I don’t want to be the scared little girl anymore who’s still being controlled by the hands of her abuser even though he is dead,” she said. “I don’t want to be scared of what’s out there or what’s inside of me. It’s my feelings that are messing everything up, and I need to learn how to control it. I don’t want to be who Strange said I am. I want to be me, and I don’t want him to be right.”

She didn’t want to be a danger to reality. She didn’t want to become a tool that could be controlled by the forces around her. And she didn’t want her mother's death to have been for nothing, so she had to learn how to live without just surviving, and she had to honor the life she was given against all odds. Somehow, she wanted both of her parents to be proud of her, and she wanted that idiot of a wizard to see that she could control it herself. That holding it all back wouldn’t eat her alive. That she could find a way to deal with the known yet unknown power in her blood on her own, and then nothing could stop her anymore.

“I won’t be far, and I won’t hesitate to come back and move back in when I’m better. Just… not now. I can’t, baby, I really can’t.”

He swallowed hard. “When?”

Eliza sighed deeply. The sight before her almost made her pull back - she had hardly seen him so shattered before. “I don’t know. Not today or tomorrow or the next day. I just can’t do it anymore,” she tried to explain. “I need to learn how to fight again, and that is just not something you can help me with this time. When I said I needed help, I think this is what I meant. I’ve come to realize that I’m worse off than I told myself I was and sometimes… sometimes you just gotta leave to fix yourself before you can continue, and our lives are way too messy right now. We should focus on ourselves, okay? We can’t be dependent on each other all the time, and especially, I can’t be dependent on you. You’ve been such a great help, but there comes a time when you can’t pick up my broken pieces anymore, and I think… no, I know that this is it. This is my official breaking point. This is what I need to do or we will just end up hurting each other, and you’re going to miss a chance at taking your city back. We’d die like a withering flower if I just keep ignoring the obvious, eating my feelings, and pretending like my pain will just pass on its own. I realize now that’s not how it works, and I’m sorry for worrying you for so long and holding you back from doing what I know you feel like you need to do. And I agree because this is you and I want you to be you.”

Her eyes held a determined look. He struggled to decipher the real intent behind her body language, but her heartbeat spoke a language of its own that he read like an open book.

Matt’s heart broke. He felt as if someone tore it out and stomped on it with steel boots. She pulled something out of his soul, something important, and it left him with a gaping black hole.

“So you’re breaking up with me?”

She shook her head instantly, finally getting closer. Eliza took his head, still some distance between them, but she could feel his pulse now. His veins glowed red. She wanted to show him just how deeply she felt for him, that this wasn’t about him, and that she would never give up on them. She needed him to feel her as much as she craved to feel him. She knew she broke something in the process of admitting what they both somehow already knew, but sometimes things need to be a little broken to be fixed.

And it wasn’t them they needed to fix. It had never been them. It was her. She needed fixing, at least as much as she could fix, and it would help them in the process. She knew it would. As long as their love wouldn’t break, which was what he was afraid of and she could feel it deep in her bones when she touched him. A fear they shared.

She found her words again. “I’m not breaking up with you,” she said.

“Then why…” he squeezed his eyes shut, the tears on his cheeks glistening in the light of the billboard. “Why?” he sobbed.

“I just told you.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m leaving so you won’t have to lose me. It doesn’t mean we’re over, Matthew, I just need help.”

He couldn’t live without her.

“We’ll see each other,” she murmured, stepping even closer. Their fingers intertwined. “I won’t be gone gone, I just…”

“Need space?” he finished for her. He looked up again.

Eliza nodded, finally pressing her body against his. “I need space. Not from you but from this life.”

“You’re not leaving because of me?”

“No, and I’m not leaving you. I’m leaving because of myself. Believe me, please.”

Matt wordlessly wrapped his arms around her. She tangled her hands in his hair and held him close. Their bodies molded together. His breath shuddered as he buried his face in her neck, and she let out a broken sob at the feeling of his vulnerable frame in her arms.

His hands wandered over her back, memorizing every last part of her. “I want you to get better,” he said, his voice muffled through her skin. “I know you need to, it just hurts.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Promise me,” he pulled back, taking her face into his hands and wiping her tears with his thumbs, “Promise me you’ll come back. Promise you’ll be safe and come back to me.”

She nodded and whispered to him, “Always.”

“Can we, like, talk on the phone or- or do you need to be alone? Like, completely alone? ‘Cause I don’t know how long I can live without you.”

In return, she placed her hands on his cheeks. Her thumbs stroked soothing patterns over his skin. He leaned into her touch.

“I don’t know,” Eliza admitted quietly.

Nodding slowly, he sucked in a sharp breath. They weren’t even breaking up, but it still felt like he was losing her forever. He found himself back at SHIELD when she told him to leave, that she didn’t need him, that they were over. It felt like that and yet ten times worse because he had gotten so used to having her around, touching her, and having her close at all times to make sure she was well taken care of, his love exceeded limits he had never thought possible and letting her go was one of the hardest things to do, even though he knew she had to do what was best for her because he could only help so far.

Mental health is important, and sometimes you just have to put yourself first to find your way out of the darkness. Her decision was the healthiest he had ever heard her make, but the selfish part of him, the part that claimed her and depended on her being close, found it utterly unfair.

She sniffled, wrapping her arms around her neck, and her fingers tangled in the brown locks at the back of his head. He closed his eyes again. “I’m gonna leave tomorrow,” she said. “I’m gonna talk to Tony and Happy and I’m gonna ask if he can pick me up. I still have a room at the compound, so I guess I’ll stay there. It’s the wisest choice, I think. And I hardly ever put myself first, so…”

“I’m not blaming you,” he said.

“I know you’re not.”

“I want you to do this if you think it’s the right thing, but I can’t help feeling like I’m losing you. I hate that feeling.”

Eliza nodded, sniffling again. She wiped her cheek on her shoulder. “I know, I hate it too, but I have to.”

“I know you have to, sweetheart. As I said, I’m not blaming you. I just want you to be okay. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, and if you feel like you can’t do that here, I’m not stopping you from leaving. As long as you keep your promise and come back to me, and maybe, just maybe, let me talk to you while you’re gone. I just… if I’m going after this Punisher guy, I don’t want to do it without you entirely, and I want to be able to make sure you’re okay. So don’t… just don’t shut me out completely. Is that… is that okay for you? I don’t want to push you, but you’re my life, Eliza. You’re my universe, and I don’t know… I just don’t know-”

She placed her index finger against his lips, shushing him. Their tears mingled when she leaned forward, and then her lips were on his. The kiss was gentle, only a mere breath of her love.

Matt whimpered. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. His lips moved against her a bit harder, and she returned his eagerness. The tip of his tongue poked against her bottom lip. She opened her mouth and he dove right in to taste every inch of her before it was too late.

Eliza wasn’t sure how they got from crying in each other’s arms to this, but she should have seen it coming. They were laden with emotion. Their hearts ached for each other as much as they yearned. They weren’t even apart yet and it already felt like worlds were between them, the universe ready to break them apart. It felt all too familiar.

His desperate hands clawed at her shirt as they slid underneath it, feeling her warm skin beneath his fingers. She pulled away, looked at him, then stared at his lips. A few seconds later, her shirt hit the floor and she jumped into his arms.

The intimacy of it all seemed ill-timed, but there was nothing that could stop them. They needed each other.

The back of her knees hit the bed and she fell back onto the mattress. His lips attacked her neck with new vigor, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every last inch of skin he could reach. He cupped her breast in his hand, thankful that she wasn’t wearing a bra tonight.

She let out a moan that was as much content as it was surprised. He tugged at her hardening nipple and she arched her back, silently urging him to move his lips from her collarbone lower. He lit a fire inside her belly, a fire she hadn’t felt in a while. And it was true; the last time they had been intimate was a while back. They were too caught up with everything to get lost in each other the way they were now, and the meaning behind their touches was a lot darker now.

He seemed almost greedy when he enveloped her nipple with his mouth, still using his hand on the other breast. She moaned again, tangling her fingers in his hair this time. He wasn’t scared to touch her, but he was scared of letting her go. She could tell it in the strength of his grip and the desperate speed and sloppiness of his movements.

He wanted to feel all of her again, memorize the feeling and rub her all over himself before he could let her go. He desperately needed to become one with her, to be the same person, to feel the same as her in all the right ways. It wouldn’t make them feel better, they both knew that it would only make it worse, but at that moment, both of them were more than lost in each other’s embrace and unwilling to stop or even think. Eliza, at least, was incapable of thoughts, and Matt’s impatient whimpers proved that he was just as needy as her.

She opened the button of her jeans and helped him pull the piece of clothing down. He mapped out his journey with his lips, stopping just above the waistband of her underwear. Words were lost in translation as he pulled them down her legs and spread them wide.

He could smell her arousal, taste the sweetness in the air. His eyes rolled back. Oh, how he had missed this. Matt tried to forget about their conversation for a moment and just feel. He wanted nothing but to feel something different, something that wasn’t pain or emptiness, and there she was, all splayed out for him, ready to be devoured and make him feel something that would overshadow the inevitable hurt for just a moment. But just a moment was all he needed.

He sat back on his heels, running his large hands over the soft inside of her thighs. He could feel the smallest bumps and scars on his way; every last one of her imperfections was perfect to him. His calloused fingers moved onto her stomach, tracing the horizontal scar on her chest and the many smaller ones that adorned her torso. She bucked into his hands, growing impatient.

Letting out a low growl, Matt leaned forward and buried his head between her thighs. He broke the string of anticipation with his tongue. She gasped loudly, the moan silent in her throat, and she caught a fistful of his hair, searching for something to hold onto before he began to devour her the way he believed she deserved.

His tongue parted her folds, swirling around her clit and then moving back down. He tasted every last inch of her, and it still wasn’t enough. He let go of her thighs and they instantly wrapped around his head. Moaning loudly, he began sucking harder on her cunt. At first, he flicked her clit with his tongue. He traced every inch of her sex with his tongue alone, relishing the taste that shot straight to his aching cock. She tasted like heaven, the sweetest honey he could think of, her arousal working as holy water to cleanse him of his sins.

He suctioned his lips around the sensitive nub as he grabbed her thighs, his fingers sure to leave their imprints. Even inside her tight walls, his tongue lapped out every inch he could reach. She contracted around him and he moaned at the fresh wave of arousal that coated his face. Her fingers tugged at his hair, her moans filled the thick air of the room and it was just her, her, her, and her all over him, all over again. He could only smell the addicting scent of her cunt. The taste of her wetness carried magic. He grew harder and harder, and he sucked on her clit just as hard, determined to draw the loudest moans he could get out of her throat.

Eliza thrashed around wildly, one hand tangled in his hair while the other pulled at the silk sheets. Sweat dripped off of her body. He was everywhere. His mouth was hot on her abused cunt. The slurping sounds broke through the silence in an obscene symphony, and she matched the volume with the singsong of her moans. She chanted his name like a prayer.

His tongue drilled deeper inside of her, and the butterflies in her stomach went wild. Having tasted what he could, he moved back through her slit, unsheathing her clit and he continued right there, paying attention to the most sensitive part of her that he knew so damn well by now, and her moans turned into desperate cries as she pulled harder on his hair.

Her thighs clenched harder around his head as he licked and sucked and licked and sucked, and then he sucked so hard, she saw stars in front of her closed eyes, saw the fire rippling through her, and the world around her crumbled to dust. That was enough to coax the orgasm out of her, long and hard, and his tongue wouldn’t stop until he was sure she was crying from the overstimulation. The orgasm hit her so hard, she couldn’t even warn him before it happen. Her muscles simply locked up and then she came, her legs shaking and her hand curling into a tight fist as if trying to force his head where it was still buried deep within her cunt.

Her walls fluttered wildly, and her clit pulsated; she forgot to breathe for a moment. He didn’t stop until he had drawn the last drop from her, and then she was just empty. Her head was somewhere else. The fog clouded her thoughts, turning the noise off for just a second. The feeling of utter relief settled into her muscles, the breath returning to her lungs, but she still wasn’t quite sure where to with herself. The pleasure was addicting, but his lips on her clit, his tongue still licking gently, was enough to hurt.

She shoved his head away with the last of her strength, her thighs still tightly locked around his head. He looked up at her, unfocused eyes glazed over, and his lip twitched into a smile.

She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Matt peeled her legs away from his head and climbed up her body, gently cradling her cheek. She met his eyes. He leaned down to kiss her. She leaned in and captured his lips with newfound fire. No words were needed. They acted on their most primal instincts, their bodies communicating with each other, saying the things they were too weak and too tired to say themselves.

He broke the kiss when Eliza clawed at his shirt and tried to force it over his head. The loss of connection was only momentary though; he leaned back down and kissed her with his tongue first, forcing it deep into her mouth and down her throat. She moaned. She had no choice but to surrender to his touch. He had her wrapped around his finger. She was putty in his hands, and just for tonight, she would let him take care of her again because she needed to forget, to get rid of the pain, and he knew how to do it best. The drugs were long forgotten and out of her system, all that remained on her mind were his mouth and his body, as irresistible as it was.

Her hands explored his torso, the kiss never faltering. They both poured their frustrations into it, a frustration that was bound to turn into the sadness they were trying to mask. But sex couldn’t fix what was broken.

Struggling to take his sweatpants off, Matt simply pulled them down enough to free his aching cock from his boxers. Eliza exhaled. He rested his forehead against her, pumping himself a few good times before adjusting his position. His hands were so shaky, so impatient, she took hold of his hand and guided her toward her entrance.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, waiting, throbbing with need. He took a deep breath, moving his lips to her temple, and then he finally thrust his hips forward and buried his cock to the hilt inside of her. He didn’t wait, he simply bottomed out, splitting her open with a delicious pain that had her gasping for air in seconds.

God, she was so tight. Her heat transferred onto him. Her nails clawed into his back, her moans directly next to his ear as he lowered his head, temple against temple, and he completely blacked out.

His thrusts were relentless. Every time he pulled out almost entirely, he thrust into her again. His cock throbbed inside of her. With every thrust, he hit the spot that drove her crazy just right.

Matt found himself clawing at her thigh again, the other finding the headboard behind Eliza’s head. His bicep tensed as he held onto the metal, the grunts escaping his lips turning louder and more frequent, and as he listened to the sound of skin slapping against skin, his cock twitched. She hugged him so perfectly, he could have died right then and there.

Her nails dug deeper into his back as she let out a loud cry, her fingers sure to draw blood. He bit down on her shoulder, forcing her head down to meet his in a bruising kiss. He bit down on her bottom lip, and she could have sworn it split open at the impact. Licking over the bruise, Matt soothed the ache almost instantly.

She looked up at him, sweat dripping from his forehead, the cross necklace dangling dangerously close above her face, and his hair stuck to his face. He opened his eyes, feeling hers on him.

His cock buried deep inside of her, he stopped. His hand moved from her thigh to her face. It was only then she noticed she was crying. The tears on her cheeks weren’t just those of pleasure, they came from an entirely different place.

Tears welled up in Matt’s eyes now too, the lustful black that had consumed his irises now replaced by the heavy brown color they usually were. He tried to force a smile, but hearing the sobs bubble up in her chest and mix with the moans of pleasure broke his resolve. He should have stopped. They weren’t in their right minds, but she clenched so perfectly around him and although it hurt, the pain was oh so bittersweet.

Eliza nodded weakly. It was her consent for him to keep going. His tears flowed freely when he buried his face back in her shoulder and resumed the rigorous movements of his hips. He thrust deep and hard, and he pushed her further, further, further, and she went higher, higher, and higher as the sobs finally broke free, her tears mingling with the sweat on her skin and filling the room with the scent of sex and salt.

Matt’s tears pearled off her skin, his silent sobs not far behind, paired with a whimper. He was so sensitive, inside and outside, and she held him as close as he held her. His hand cradled her head, protecting her with his entire body, covering her whole, and his hips snapped even faster against hers. His pelvis continuously brushed against her clit, which made it almost impossible for her not to come right then and there.

She clung to him as the pleasure and pain took over. Her sob turned into a moan which quickly turned into a cry of his name, “Matthew!”

He nodded.

She clenched around him, and the second orgasm of the night washed over her. With a broken cry of his own, Matt followed her, his cum spurting into her tight cunt. He filled her to the brim, marking her, making sure she wouldn’t forget who she belonged to. He even continued long after they were both spent, fucking his cum into her over and over again, driving them high enough to the precipice of painful overstimulation. Their tears continued to form pools on her skin, their limbs tangled and glued together.

He lost control of his hold on the headboard and collapsed on top of her, his thrusts instantly halting, which allowed the cum to now trickle down her legs as it made its way over his softening shaft. There was sure to be a mess below them, but they didn’t care.

It wasn’t long after the cum had dried on her skin that their tears stopped, too.

Eliza was the first to regain her composure. She ran her hand over Matt’s back, his body still quivering atop her. She looked down at the possessive grip he still had on her thigh and how hard he clenched the sheets in the other hand.

“Are you okay?” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, but he heard her loud and clear.

He shuddered, slowly lifting himself back on his forearm. He nodded, too tired for words, and pulled her body with him as he dropped down next to her. His cock was still inside of her then.

She lay on his chest, trying to catch her breath. His hand moved from her thigh to her hip, his grip just as resilient. She didn’t mind. She would gladly carry the bruises with her. It was a reminder she was still alive, and he still wanted her.

Minutes passed. The heat in the bedroom rose, then slowly eased with every puff of air. The sweat dried on their bodies. The tears vanished completely. No moans or sobs filled the atmosphere anymore. It was just them and their labored breathing as they stayed entangled in each other’s arms, afraid that the night would end too soon because they knew, as soon as morning hit, Eliza would be gone and Matt would have to go to sleep, and wake up in his bed alone for an undetermined amount of time while juggling something he still didn’t quite understand. Not having the woman he loved near him sounded like brutal torture. Torture he had to somehow learn how to survive.

He held her head in the crook of his elbow, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. His nose nuzzled into her hair. She smelled so much like herself, as did the sheets, but the scent would fade once he changed and washed them. It wouldn’t be as strong or prominent. Only a faint reminder of her presence.

Between choked-up breaths, he whispered, “I love you.”

Eliza was quick to reply, “And I love you.”

The real challenge — time apart with the guillotine of destiny hovering above their heads, the journey to getting better and finding back to themselves as Matt navigated the darkness that was looming on the horizon from something he didn’t even quite understand yet himself — was yet to come, and it would certainly test their limits in way they couldn’t even imagine.

Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @lina-mar (& if you want to be added too, fill out this form!)

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock smut #daredevil smut #matt murdock x original character #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #foreigner's god #matt murdock x female!oc #matt murdock imagines #daredevil fic #matt murdock fic #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #charlie cox #reader insert #ofc

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theswordwizard · 2 years ago

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this post reminded me of a realization I came to while on the subway a while back. So, I talk to myself a lot. I just have an easier time organizing my thoughts if I act like I’m presenting them to another party, and sometimes it just keeps my overactive mind entertained. I usually keep it in my head because I know it’s ‘weird’ and makes people treat me like I’m ‘weird,’ but if I’m alone or get caught up sometimes I’ll start mumbling or whispering to myself. If I’ve been sitting or not moving for too long while bored I’ll also get increasingly jittery to the point of what looks like spasms. Again, I’ve spent a LOT of time figuring out how to keep it together in front of other people because I don’t want to be treated the way I know I’d get dismissed otherwise.

I was with some acquaintances in NY and on the subway there was an visibly homeless man sleeping on one side of the car, and a jittery man mumbling to himself across the aisle, occasionally shaking his head back and forth. Wasn’t bothering anyone. We were quietly talking amongst each other, trying not to wake the other guy. After a while of the jittery man talking to himself, one of my acquaintances’ boyfriend looked at him, turned to us, rolled his eyes, and made a not-very-subtle motion of injecting himself. He was turned away from the man and I didn’t want to make it a thing, so I didn’t say anything then, but it was a harsh reminder. I’m so much closer to mumbling to myself while twitching a bit on the subway then I’d ever be to being actually neurotypical. If I had some sort of event and forgot or didn’t feel in control enough to keep myself locked into 'not being weird’ mode, I could easily be dismissed like that by people who were so secure in their mind. And not to sound like a fake “don’t judge” story, but a few stops later the man went over to the homeless man, shook him awake, told him to keep his head up and good luck, and gave him some cash while we all got out.

In the same way that the slightly more financially secure, though still lower class, separate themselves from homeless and extremely poor people, and often don’t realize how perilously close we are to being in the same situation if we get a stroke of bad luck, there is a similar sort of class separation when it comes to mental and physical health. NT and able-bodied people avoid fearing their own potential disability by avoiding empathy and engagement, and by considering others as an inherent lower “mental class” that they can safely consider themselves above. Or even within people that aren’t NT, we have high-functioning versus low-functioning, people that can usually pass for NT versus people that can’t, etc. Same thing. We don’t think about how things can easily get out of our own control.

I think a lot of people are one event or a particularly bad week from finding it a lot more difficult to be completely clean, quiet, and ‘normal’ in a public place. People that are just talking to themselves, moving oddly, or don’t seem ‘all the way there’ are not inherently dangerous or below you.

#and not to say i havent had bad experiences either #once a woman starting walking towards a friend and i pointing at us telling us she was going to kill us and a bunch of threats #we were able to just take a sharp turn and walk away but what im saying is that generally people will let you know that they are dangerous l #but like most people are fine #just like you wouldn't really be afraid of the 'normal' acting person on the bus until they gave you a reason

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backtothestart02 · 2 years ago

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Between Me and You - 1/1 | Snowshoe fanfiction

A/N: Was inspired by Grant and Chris's short film and decided to write up a little scene that takes place before it. Enjoy.

...

Synopsis: Cal and his mother discuss Kevin prior to the brothers meeting up.

...

“Cal.”

He watched as the light from his mother’s eyes faded slightly before she stepped back to let him into the house. He told himself not to take it too hard. After all, her struggle was his. They both wished he had been someone else in that moment, or that it hadn’t only been him.

“I…wasn’t expecting you today.”

He smiled weakly.

“I thought we could have lunch, spend some time catching up.”

Her smile turned regretful.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much in the fridge for cooking with.”

“If I remember right, you do still have frozen pizzas stocked in the freezer though. In case…”

He stopped, frozen, hoping his mother wouldn’t finish his sentence.

“In case Kevin comes back,” she said softly, almost emotionless. “Have you heard from him?” she asked, hopeful now.

Cal shook his head and slipped out of his shoes and coat before heading down the hall and into the kitchen, his mother trailing behind him.

“Not for months. He won’t return my calls.”

“Mine either,” his mother said, and it just about killed him.

It was bad enough when his own depression escalated to the point he could barely crawl out of bed and get dressed in order to get to work on a good day, but the fact that he knew their mother also shared that struggle, and it had been getting worse since their father passed away two years ago made it all the worse.

He knew Kevin was busy, thriving even, and completely void of any such mental illness, but the least he could do was check on his mother. Cal was getting worried about her, which only amped up his own depression. It’d gotten better recently though. With the meds.

“Maybe he’s met someone,” she said, hopefully. “Last time you talked, you said he told you about a girl, right? Rachel, was it?”

His lips lifted up into another attempted smile.

“That’s right.”

“Maybe things have gotten serious. I could do with some grandchildren now that you two are all grown up.”

And Cal felt a stab of guilt. Not for his brother this time but himself. He hadn’t had time to find a special someone of his own, let alone think of bringing kids into the world to keep his mother occupied for who knows how long, maybe not since he got out of college years ago. His depression had been holding him down, keeping him hostage, keeping him focused on his pain or his mother’s pain at his brother’s distance, his absence, his clear disregard for the people he’d left behind that he supposedly loved.

“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean…”

She covered her hand over her son’s, and he smiled. For her.

“It’s alright. Maybe you’re right. Maybe things have gotten serious between them.”

She nodded and settled onto a stool while he moved away to find ingredients for lunch. Silence settled between them, giving him time to think, to obsess, to plan.

“Mmm, something smells good,” his mother said sometime later, and he looked down at the dish he’d crafted on the stove.

“Almost done,” he said.

“Smells cheesy,” she declared.

“Mac’n cheese. With veggies.”

“Your favorite!”

When I was a kid, he thought, but he chose not to point that out. A genuine smile had finally reached his mother’s eyes.

“Yep.”

He turned off the heat, brought out two bowls, and dished out some of the pasta into both dishes. Then he fished out two spoons from the silverware drawer and grabbed the salt. Somehow he managed to take all of it to his mother in one trip.

“Blow on it. It’s hot,” he warned.

She blew on it daintily and took a hesitant bite.

“Mmm, tastes good.”

He gently nudged the saltshaker closer to her, and she chuckled. He declared that a victory inwardly.

“You know me too well.”

Of course he did. He’d stuck to her like glue the past few years. He knew she was a glutton for punishment, particularly when it came to her salt intake.

“I thought I saw some milk in the fridge,” he remarked, turning away while she dumped salt onto her noodles.

“Yes, I bought some the other day.”

Without being asked, he fished around in the fridge for the white drink and brought it out, filling two glasses for the both of them.

“Mmm, so good,” she said after taking another bite. This time he knew she meant it and grinned.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Silence settled again as they ate, and Cal let his mind wander back to Kevin and all his missed calls, missed texts, and his poor mother always disappointed when it was him who came to the door instead of his brother.

She didn’t favor Kevin, he knew that. She just didn’t like when her family wasn’t whole, and neither of them had seen Kevin for years, except his one chance encounter with him about six months ago. But that had been short-lived.

“I’m thinking of paying Kevin a visit,” he finally said, and his mother looked up at him, surprised and delighted.

“That sounds nice. Maybe you could convince him to come home? Just for a visit, of course. I don’t expect him to shift his whole life just for me.”

Cal’s heart ached at those words.

“I’ll give it my best shot,” he said, and they returned to their meals.

#Snowshoe #Snowshoe fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #between me and you

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sonotpattismith · 3 months ago

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to have a friend | just say when (chapter two)

chapter. 1

playlist | masterlist

song inspo for chapter: it's nice to have a friend by taylor swift

warnings: this story contains explicit mentions of depression and suicide. if these are topic that are triggering for you, please refrain from reading. I will be putting a warning on the chapters that may be particularly triggering. please enjoy otherwise xo <3

That hopeful glint in Zumi’s eyes haunted Megumi in the days that followed their conversation. It had been a week now, but he still couldn’t help but fear that he had opened a door that he was not prepared to walk her through. Even if he was, there was a chance he might not ever see her again. One thought gave him solace though, as he stared up at the ceiling of his dorm, the sun just barely peeking through the cracks of his black-out curtains. He thought about how much his dark space contrasted her blinding one.

If there was one thing he could give his own sister, it would be hope. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if Zumi had it too.

He sighed so heavily that his chest seemed to concave in on itself. Forcing his eyes closed, he ran a hand through his messy hair. It wasn’t productive to be worrying so much about what he may have done. The black, crisp sheets of his bed swished as he turned over and pulled the covers over his head, effectively blocking the little light that threatened to come in. Maybe he’d just sleep a little longer.

“Fushiguro!” His walls shook as the door was kicked open. Megumi squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. He just didn’t have the mental energy to charge his social battery today. There was too much on his mind. Maybe Itadori would go away if he stayed under the safety of his comforter. “Wake up, you floppy haired sloth, we have practice, and you’re my partner today!”

This made the annoyed boy’s eyes squint open.

Gojo only pairs me with Itadori when he wants to piss me off.

Megumi sat up purposefully, allowing his covers to slip down as he gazed curiously at his pink haired friend who continued to babble on.

“I’ve been with Nobara for weeks now! She’s a great sorcerer and all, but man she doesn’t give me a break. It’s like she—”

“Did Gojo seem upset when you spoke with him?” He cut off Itadori’s ramble.

“Hmm,” The boy seemed to brush off the fact that Megumi hadn’t been listening to his drawn out rant. Placing a finger on his chin, he looked up pensively. “I mean, he just seemed like Gojo to me.”

His stoic friend hummed in response. The reality was that Megumi had known the professor for longer, practically raised by the man. As a result, he had learned to pick up on his certain nuances and quirks easier than the others could.

Well, he can’t say that he’ll be surprised, whatever happens.

The blindfolded man had waited, and Megumi could feel it in his chest. It was the way he smiled sinisterly as he ordered which combos, which techniques to demonstrate. It was an impending sense of doom almost— in the pit of his stomach, just bubbling up with each dodged hit. It wasn’t that the shadow user was scared of Gojo, despite having a certain level of respect for him. It was just that though, he’d never given the man a reason to lose his own respect. With that in mind, deep down,

Megumi knew he couldn’t find it in him to feel sorry for what he said to Zumi. Not even a little.

“You all are leaving your weak points wide open for your opponents.” Gojo began, motioning for everyone to stop what they were doing. He pretending to be contemplating for a moment before an over zealous smile spread across his half-covered face. “Fushiguro— mind helping me demonstrate?”

And there it is.

“Yeah, I sort of do.”

“Listen to him, just so eager to learn— that’s my boy! Step right up!”

The rest of the team cheered him on dramatically as he trudged away from them to the middle of the field where his white-haired fate awaited. The professor stood confidently, arms crossed lazily across his chest as his student begrudgingly approached him.

“It’s important to remember as you’re fighting to save others— you’re also fighting to save yourselves.” Gojo now turned to face Megumi directly. “Give me your best shot.”

It was a trap— he knew it was a trap. Still, with everyone watching expectantly, there was little he could do to avoid the inevitable. So, he raised his fists and in a last ditch effort, spun around to swing his leg at the man’s exposed ribs. Before he could even fully extend his leg though, Gojo’s fist slammed down on his stomach which had been left exposed.

“EH!” He made an overly obnoxious ‘eliminated’ noise as Megumi hunched over, the blow knocking the wind out of him. “Megumi’s dead now.”

“Ooo.” His fellow students gaped dramatically from the sidelines as if watching an infomercial.

A cool hand grabbed the wounded boy from the back of his neck and pulled him up.

“Did you tell Azumi she could learn jujutsu?” Gojo asked lowly as he pushed the student back into formation.

Azumi. Her full name is Azumi.

“No,” Megumi answered honestly before coughing one last time and raising his arms defensively. “All I said was that this idea that she can’t use any cursed energy doesn’t make any sense to me.”

The sorcerer hummed before getting into formation himself. As he raised his arms, the boy noticed the vibrant blue, hand-woven bracelet on his wrist. It looked just like the countless ones Zumi had been wearing that night. It looked tattered and a bit frayed, and Megumi wondered how long it had been tied there.

“You see, kiddos,” Gojo was now addressing the class, but his hidden eyes stayed focused on the boy in front of him. “A lot of times we get so caught up in saving the day that— we forget to cover our own asses!”

“Okay, I get it. You don’t have to keep—”

“No, I don’t think you do.” The white-haired man interrupted as he swung his fist out. Megumi quickly leaned back to dodge it. “You know what cursed energy leaves behind, Megumi?”

The poor boy wasn’t sure if he should continue to swing at his teacher. So, he stood with his feet firmly planted in the grass, keeping in mind the parts of him that may be exposed to the more experienced man’s attacks. When he didn’t answer, Gojo went on.

“Remnants, Megumi,” he emphasized, swinging his leg out to trip him up. Fushiguro kicked his own leg out to avoid the fall, still not daring to swing out himself. This left his leg exposed and within grasp of his opponent though, who, faster than he could process, grabbed his shin and flipped him over. As he fell face first into the dirt, the offender leaned down to his level. “Cursed energy leaves remnants that are visible to most curse users. I don’t need her getting found out because you wanted to play hero.”

The raven haired boy refused to lift his head to meet his gaze. He was right. It would inevitably be putting a target on her and her location. For a moment, a pang of guilt hit him. He heard a sigh. A strong hand came down on his shoulder, helping him up from the ground.

“Listen, I get why you said what you did.” Gojo confessed quietly, ruffling the student’s onyx hair to shake the lingering dirt from it. He laughed as the boy met his gaze with a fiery glare. “But this is something a lot bigger than you. Try not to get involved, ‘kay?”

Only Gojo could beam so brightly at someone just seconds after beating the shit out of them. Megumi silently accepted the outstretched hand in front of him to get off the ground.

“By the way,” Gojo drawled as he continued brushing the dirt from his student’s uniform. “Nanami found out that you helped out last time and kind of forfeited that responsibility over to you. Something about you being younger and having more energy than he does. I’ll tell you, I don’t know when that man got so old! Anyway, you busy tomorrow night?”

He was, in fact. Itadori had been chasing him down for days to go see some off-beat, slasher film with him. Still, the situation before him left more questions than answers. It wasn’t his business, Gojo made that abundantly clear, but the mystery was gnawing at him. So, maybe it was the claws of curiosity scratching their way up his stomach and through his throat that responded for him.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Nanami was avoiding me.”

Megumi found himself once again stood in front of the girl who’d been plaguing his thoughts all week. She looked different today. Her hair that was messily tied up in a bun the last time he’d seen her was now cascading down the sides of her pale face and down her shoulders and chest. The straight, snowy locks alongside her vibrant eyes was an almost blinding combination. Even so, with the two features side by side, she looked more like her brother today. Discarded was her previously dawned, baggy hoodie, and in its place was a form fitted, long sleeved shirt. He noted the outline of her countless bracelets still present under her sleeves.

“Ugh, join the club, short stack.” Gojo sighed dramatically at the mention of his blonde, antisocial coworker. “Don’t have too much fun without me, my two most favorite little chicks.”

And with that, they were left again to their own devices. She was staring at him again with that damn near painful gaze. Megumi wondered if he should bring it up, tell her he was sorry for mentioning it.

“Your face is all scratched up.” Zumi stated obviously, her gaze unwavering.

“Your brother made me eat shit.”

This caused her to crack a smile, and he could have cried in relief. With a bubbly laugh, she hopped over the back of the couch, landing on her back with a thud.

“I thought you were supposed to be some big shot sorcerer.”

Fushiguro hummed as he leaned against the back of the couch, peering down absentmindedly at the girl.

“Is that how you think of me?”

He wasn’t sure where that comment came from, but he could feel the heat slowly rushing to his face just as he saw the pink tinge in hers. They both looked away from each other quickly. Just as he had resorted to counting the individual kitchen tiles on the ground, he heard her sit up behind him.

“So,” she recovered quickly. Thank God. “How did he teach you?”

“Hmm?”

“You know, how did Satoru teach you to use your cursed energy?”

A thick gulp forced its way down his throat. He knew where this was going.

‘This is something a lot bigger than you.’

“I don’t remember.” Megumi deadpanned. He didn’t want to look at her. So, he walked toward the kitchen and began pouring himself a glass of water.

“You don’t remember?” Zumi repeated incredulously, standing up from her place on the couch. He said nothing to clarify and instead began chugging his glass. “Come on, you’ve gotta remember something. Wasn’t that like, the most important point in your life?”

The boy was astute enough to know she said that because she knew it would be the most important point in her own life. In a way, learning her own power would mean the same for her as it did for him all those years ago: freedom. It would have been easy to tell her it didn’t matter, but it left a bad taste in his mouth. A hypocrite is what it would make him.

“I don’t know. I learned a lot over a long period of time. It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

“What? You think it’s too hard for me?” She was getting irritated, and he could hear it in her voice. There was anger, but moreover, hidden deeper within her tone, was betrayal— embarrassment. It was the first time someone had ever made her feel that maybe she was capable of a little more than being babysat at home for the rest of her life. Hell, it had even given her the confidence to offer up the idea to Satoru, who was more than willing to squash that idea under his giant foot. All that— and now he was acting like she was the dumb one?

“What happened to what you said last week?”

And there it was, back to bite him right in the ass.

“I was talking out of my ass, just forget about it.”

“Is this about my brother?” Zumi seethed. She was suddenly inches from his face, analyzing the cuts on his face that she’d noticed earlier. A look of realization spread across her tensed face. “Is that why he fucked you up like that?”

A laugh of disbelief left her. Megumi’s jaw clenched as she poked at his chest in an accusatory manner.

“You’re scared of Satoru, aren’t you?”

Now she was just trying to get under his skin because he’s been standing there like a statue for too long and— oh my god if he doesn’t wipe that disapproving scowl off his face she might just go crazy. As he’d learned previously though— she was good at this game, and his patience was wearing thin.

“Zumi, stop—”

“No, why should I be shocked!” The girl bounced boisterously on the heels of her feet. Throwing her hands up dramatically, she continued her assault on his ego. “Everyone’s scared of Satoru, huh? So sure, let’s leave me to rot away my life because he’s got his hand elbow deep up your—”

He felt it coming up— word vomit. Fiery, sharp, inconsiderate word vomit. This was the game she was playing too; hit ‘em where it hurts, right? The guilt, the humiliation, the mental exhaustion, it was all too much for him.

“Can you please just shut up for once?” Megumi shouted desperately, his towering figure leaning over her menacingly. “How can anybody think straight when you’re always talking!”

But he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth.

She doesn’t really get to talk to a lot of people.. so, take it easy on her, yeah?

Her fiery lips slowly shut, and she leaned away from his towering stance.

God, the motion made him sick to his stomach.

A deep, pink blush rose up her neck and to her face as she stared at him in slight disbelief. Megumi opened his mouth to say something— anything that would wipe that sad look off her face, but he blinked, and she was walking away from him. Her bedroom door slammed against the frame. The noise made him flinch.

The boy felt his stomach churn uncomfortably, and he was sure it was in his head, but God it felt like he might vomit. Throwing himself down on the couch, his navy eyes stared blankly down at the white carpet. Why did he say that? She was right. He was scared of upsetting Gojo, but could she blame him? Despite the loyalty he had for the professor, a part of him deep within still felt like his usually adept perception of problems was absolutely skewed here.

The image of her cowering figure played on a loop in his head. His pale fingers reached up to tug at his hair in frustration.

Words had never been Megumi’s strong suit— let alone apologies. Still, he knew he had struck a nerve that was too deep to move on from. Standing up from his place on the couch, he approached the door she had just gone in through. Raising his hand hesitantly, he contemplated knocking, but he didn’t know what he’d say. He walked back to the couch. The closed door mocked him, acting as a movie screen replaying ‘Megumi’s Worst Hits from the Past Ten Minutes!’. It wouldn’t stop—

But then it did. Staring more closely at the door, he noticed something was missing; the knob. His brows knitted together in confusion. Why would her door not have a knob on it? Anyone could go in and out if they so pleased. The thought unsettled him, but he didn’t have much time to linger on it before he thought of a solution to his problem.

Megumi was always better with shadows than with words.

Zumi was curled into a ball in her bed, the darkness of her room engulfing her. The overwhelming heat of the blush on her cheeks was still present as she replayed the events of the evening. She didn’t know how to talk to people. She didn’t know when to stop, but God she just so desperately wanted someone to get her. It was evident in the way she rambled, and yelled, and dragged on and on with the desperate hope that someday, something would click with someone.

When Megumi had asked her the week prior what she thought about her potential, she thought she’d finally found it. The truth was, the desperation she tried so hard to disguise as playfulness and whimsy— was just that— desperation. It was her fault that he saw through the facade.

She furiously wiped a stray tear from her face as the light from the living room began creeping into her dark solitude, indicating that someone had opened the door.

“No one told you you could come—” Azumi’s furious outburst was replaced with a sharp gasp, followed by a squeal of fear. Something cold and wet had just touched her foot. Shooting up in bed, she turned over to see the shadowy figure of a— a dog?

It was much larger than any other dog she’d ever seen, granted that number was small. It was able to peer directly at her from the side of her already high up bed. It’s midnight-black fur shone gently in the light seeping in through the cracked door. From the slight illumination, she could see the odd, red mark on its forehead. Its yellow eyes were almost intimidating as they gazed at her, almost reminding her of—

What an idiot.

Zumi thought with a repressed smile. Holding her hand out tentatively, she allowed the black beast to sniff her, unsure if it would let her pet him. To her surprise (and delight) he nudged her hand with his snout, closing his eyes as she stroked his fur. A wide, excited smile spread across her face.

“Come here, boy!” She exclaimed giddily, patting the spot beside her on the bed. The animal’s tail wagged dramatically as he swiftly jumped up onto the mattress and curled up next to her. Sighing contentedly, she wrapped her arms around his large neck and allowed its gentle energy to heal her.

A soft rap on her door frame pulled her from her dog-induced high. Megumi leaned against the frame of the door, staring tentatively at the sight of his Divine Dog curled up in Zumi’s lap like a simple poodle.

“Can I come in?” He requested timidly. When she didn’t respond, he quietly walked in and sat down beside the beast, who flopped his head around to look at him, tongue lolled lazily to the side. Zumi gushed fondly and reached over to scratch under his chin. A smirk graced Megumi’s lips, the action oddly making his chest swell. He hummed softly as Zumi was too engrossed in the animal to pay him mind.

“So you can see them.” He muttered under his breath. She glanced up at him curiously.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.” he brushed off, beginning his own gentle stroke along the black fur of his back as he looked around the dark room.

It was huge, he noted, much bigger than his dorm at Jujutsu High. With the little light that was shining in, he noticed the bright, baby blue color of the walls that matched the yoga equipment and the hoodie she had been wearing when he last saw her. There was an expensive looking record player in the corner with countless vinyls lining the shelf of its quaint display table. In the far corner of the room was a pretty impressive gaming computer, but the setup looked almost untouched. Megumi once again got the feeling that Gojo was really trying to keep her happy— keep her occupied.

“I’m sorry,” her mumbled apology broke him from his trance. He whipped his head around to look at her in shock. Why is she apologizing to him? The boy suddenly felt guilty that he didn’t say it first. “I know I can be… a lot.”

It sounded as if she was regurgitating what others had said to her. Another piece of his heart broke off.

“You’re not,” Megumi quickly corrected, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I was an asshole, and what I said was fucked up. You were right. I let Gojo influence how I felt.”

At this sudden confession, she looked up from the Divine Dog to him.

“But you have to understand, your brother…” His train of thought began to run off the tracks as her bright eyes bore into him, listening to every breath he uttered. Rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably, he continued. “Your brother did a lot for me, more than I ever asked him for, or that I could ever repay him for. He… he practically raised me.”

“I remember.” Zumi added quietly. The boy’s brows furrowed at this comment. She smiled a sad, fond smile. “Satoru talked about you all the time. About how strong you were, how stubborn you were… not to mention all those times he had to go bail you out of school for beating the shit out of all those kids.”

That all too familiar heat rose to Megumi’s face, and he was suddenly glad that it was so dark in the room. Despite the darkness that shielded him, he rested his elbow on his thigh and covered the half of his face visible to her with his hand.

Zumi began laughing as she continued to recall these memories. Slapping a hand on his shoulder, she recounted, “I actually remember he had to stop telling me about you because I used to think you were so cool. Can you believe that?”

Fushiguro buried his face deeper into his hand.

“You were so cool, with your badass personality, and you went to a real high school and—” She stopped suddenly when she noticed his silence. The girl sunk back into herself, combing her fingers through the now sleeping animal's soft coat. “Sorry, I’m doing it again.”

This made the mortified boy look up from his hiding spot.

“You don’t talk too much, Zumi.” He reassured her, that pang of guilt coming back full force to replace his embarrassment. “I just… I don’t have a lot to say usually. You can talk.”

She peered up at him through her lashes.

“You talk, and… I’ll listen.”

And so they did— for the rest of the night. Megumi didn’t say anything as she excitedly picked another mediocre indie movie from her seemingly never ending collection. He listened as she would get ahead of herself, clearly having seen this movie before and was just excited that someone else was seeing it too. Zumi would catch herself just before she’d spoil it, sinking back into the couch and biting at the hems of her sleeves.

The boy didn’t think he’d ever seen anything like it— someone physically incapable of staying quiet. It should have annoyed him, but it filled the air comfortingly. She didn’t ask his opinion or press him to comment, opting to just look at him with a face that said ‘Thank god someone is listening.’, and he really was. Fushiguro was hanging onto every word.

She had brought out a small box from her room. It was full of various colors of yarn and a pair of dull scissors. He tried to concentrate on the movie, but his eyes kept wandering to her twisting fingers, weaving the fabric in and out of each other intricately. So caught up in her motions, the boy failed to notice how the yarn’s navy hue perfectly matched that of his eyes.

chapter. 3

#jjk fanfic #jjk #megumi fushiguro fanfic #megumi x oc #megumi fushiguro #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x oc

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subliminalbointext · 2 years ago

Text

Obedience By Fleur #3: A Mindless Desire

Santiago’s eyes rolled back as she sank into a mindless pit of pleasure. The closer she came to the edge, the more her thoughts faded.

It wasn’t that Santiago had forgotten her deal with Ed, the models of Fleur-de-lis, or the conspiracy she’d suddenly found herself at the center of. All of that was still there somewhere, the beating heart beneath the floorboards of her journalistic integrity. Santiago tried everything to drown out the noise of her guilt. Boxes of pizza, bottles of Grey Goose, a few doses of Molly.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Even the nostalgia of social drug use couldn’t dispel it. If anything, reminiscing on her wilder years in college only made Santiago more miserable. On one particularly bad trip Santiago found herself lost in the mirror, studying her own reflection. Could this really be the same body that had written a thesis on ethics? The same mind that challenged the entire culture of a multimillion-dollar news media empire? Santiago dug her nails into her forehead, tearing at the flesh to reveal the face of the monster that lived underneath. More and more she felt like it had always been there.

But Ed found Santiago before she could do any real harm to herself. He took her gently by the shoulders and eased her away from the mirror. Whispering positive reinforcements before placing a soft kiss on her lips and leading her slowly back to the bedroom.

He was surprisingly kind to her, though Santiago knew this was only an after effect of getting absolutely everything he wanted from her. Ed was a pathological Type A whose default setting was unspeakable cruelty. As the usual cocktail of drugs, booze, and simple carbohydrates failed to ease Santiago’s guilt, she found the kind of comfort she was seeking in Ed. It wasn’t in the way he kissed her, or how he assured her in that vaguely threatening rough approximation of a comforting voice, “You’ve earned every inch of that corner office.”

Ed was attractive in an old-fashioned way. His short hair, side-part, and clean-shaven face reminded her of a man she’d seen once in an old cigarette ad on microfilm. Sixty years ago he could comfortably play the role of a father in a Disney film. But men who looked like Ed had long expired. No, it wasn’t in the looks either. It was in the way they fucked.

Santiago admitted that she’d been weak in taking him to bed. Ed disagreed, going into his usual speech about the choices we make and the reflection of our inner desires. Santiago’s recent windfall in the form of a senior staff position at her old place of work, Trespass—her idea of a karmic fuck you to the organization that had threatened to derail her career just a few years earlier—had brought a stability that Santiago hadn’t yet felt in her adult life. And desperate to accept her new station, she tried to convince herself that she could make up for her betrayal of Kiley Mara with good works. If her journalism did more good in the world than the deal she made to get it, then she could justify moving forward. But that required some Olympian level of mental gymnastics that Santiago simply couldn’t fathom. Despite her regular resolve to cut all ties with Ed, her spiraling depression led her back to his bed each night. This was the only place she truly felt in control.

She closed her eyes shut as her head pushed back into her pillow, fighting the impending orgasm with everything she had. She exhaled silently, refusing to give Ed a single sound. Her eyes were clear when she opened them again, finding a second wave in herself.

Santiago lifted her head from the pillow and peered down her naked body at Ed between her legs. Her fingers clenched around his slick hair, and she pulled him hard into her pussy. “Take it,” she said with her best authority, but her voice shook from the pleasure. It took all of Santiago’s concentration not to moan. “Take every bit of me.”

And Ed obeyed, his tongue dancing dutifully over her throbbing clit.

Santiago’s body was on fire. She groped her tit violently and bit her lip to stifle that deadly moan. She wouldn’t give Ed a second of weakness.

This was Santiago’s secret weapon. The reason she continued returning to Ed’s bedroom. Because in the real world she had given up complete control, but here she was the mistress of everything. In the bedroom Ed treated her like a queen, and it felt good to see him grovel.

Ed was locked in, his fingers digging into Santiago’s thighs as his tongue ran laps to a silent rhythm playing in his head. He could feel her thighs tightening as she came closer, until her entire body rocked as it was overtaken by orgasm. Still, Santiago didn’t scream. All Ed could manage to get from her was a stifled moan and labored breaths as she shook beneath him.

Ed licked his lips, took a deep breath, and smiled. “That was a good one.”

______________

Santiago took the time that Ed used to wash up to check her phone. There was a message from her new assistant, Toby: Located the founder. She’s in Rio.

Santiago tapped quickly: Book flight for tomorrow.

Ed stepped out of the bathroom, drying his face on a hand towel. He asked, “How’d you get your name?”

Santiago, crosslegged on the bed, looked up from her phone, “What?”

“Santiago? What is it, like, a grandma’s maiden name or something?” He plopped down in front of her.

She smirked and unfolded her legs, spreading them over Ed’s lap. He began to run his hands gently over them. She wouldn’t admit it, but she loved the way Ed touched her. Sometimes it felt like he was actually in love, but she knew that she had trained him well.

“Are you pretending like you don’t know everything about me, Eddie?”

“It may surprise you but I’m actually not some international man of mystery. I don’t have files on every girl I’ve fucked.”

Santiago’s smile faded. “I was named for the city. My family is from Santiago.” She turned her attention back to her phone as Ed’s hands wandered.

Already booked.

“Huh,” Ed nodded. “My brother’s name is Dallas, but my dad just liked the Cowboys.” He found his way to her feet. “I need a favor.”

“I’m not going to blow you,” she said without looking away.

Ed swatted at the phone unsuccessfully. “Not a personal one,” he said. “It’s about business.”

“Since when do we do business?” Santiago asked. She noted the look on Ed’s face then, more curious than concerned, asked, “What is it?”

“There’s this congressman,” he began. “Brent, something. From some flyover state. Iowa, I think. He’s new, he’s young, wants to prove himself.”

“Why do I care?”

“He’s making a lot of noise about Stanley. He’s asked for a congressional investigation into corporations using mind altering technology.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with me,” Santiago said coldly.

“Well,” Ed said, turning his attention away from Santiago and back to her feet. “You have experience in digging for information. You have a voice that people trust, a platform to use it with.”

“You want me to dig up dirt on Congressman Flyover? Why? A congressional probe was inevitable.”

“Yeah,” Ed said quietly. “I suppose so. Only, if we can get ahead of it, get our people on that probe, then it won’t turn out so bad for us.”

“Absolutely not,” she said. “It was just the one deal, Ed. We’re done.”

“Are we?” he asked, gesturing his head around the room.

“Fuck off,” she said, pulling back from Ed and settling against the headboard. “I’m leaving anyway.”

“Where are you going?”

“New assignment. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Why don’t you just brainwash everyone involved? Hell, if you’re that desperate to fuck with democracy, just throw money at it until it goes away. It works for everyone else.”

“Just think about it,” Ed said. “There’s still more I can do for you. A lot more.”

______________

Ed was aching when he got home. He and Santiago had been fooling around for months now, but she always got her way, leaving him unsatisfied. Maybe it was reward enough to return to his condo and find Kiley there, mindless and ready in her Obedience by Fleur lingerie.

“Welcome home, Master,” she said as she approached him at the door. Pressing her hand lightly to his chest, looking up at him with those distant eyes. “How can I serve you?”

“Fuck,” Ed said with a long, drawn out sigh. He hadn’t felt this horny since he was a teenage boy.

The mindless smile painted on Kiley’s lips faded just a bit. “Is everything okay, Master?”

“Santiago,” he said. “Bitch is killing me.”

“Let me help, Master.”

And Kiley helped in the only way she knew how. She took Ed by the hand and led him to the bedroom. Kiley had been a great fuck even before Ed had gotten into her mind and made it his. He fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes, letting his slave lead only because she’d been programmed to. Kiley’s movements were well-trained, like an automaton’s appendages responding to the spinning gears inside. She dropped to her knees in one quick motion, and snapped the clasp on his buckle, pulling his pants down to expose his hard cock.

Kiley didn’t have to work Ed too hard. He had so much energy built up from his night with Santiago that he was already on the edge. Her mouth was all he needed. When he came, she looked up from the floor and smiled that wide, empty smile, before swallowing.

Ed could breathe again. He sat up on the bed, but Kiley remained diligent on her knees in from of him. He looked down at that peaceful expression as she waited there, empty and eager to be commanded. He sat there for a moment facing her, contemplating, and then he reached out, pressing his hand against her neck. He applied just enough pressure at his fingertips to be menacing, but not enough to hurt Kiley. His hand was so large around her small neck. He could feel the blood pumping against his thumb. He studied her face as he held her. There was nothing there. No fear hidden beneath those empty eyes. Just a smile.

Ed looked disappointed. “I could squeeze the life out of you, and you wouldn’t make a sound,” he said.

“I would scream if you told me to.”

Ed released his hand with a frustrated sigh. “Just get on the bed.”

“Yes, Master.” Kiley replied. “Do you want me on top tonight?”

“No,” he said. “I want you face down.”

And that’s how Ed took her. Kiley’s cries were stifled from her face buried in the sheets, but they were cries of satisfaction nonetheless. Ed used her for more than just sex, but she never felt more alive than with her Master’s cock inside of her. Once again, she did only what she had been trained to do. Said the words that Ed had taught her. “Own me, Master! Use me!”

Ed had found a strange kind of theater in fucking one of his slaves. That he played a part in this production just as much as they did. But tonight, Ed closed his eyes and saw Santiago’s face. He imagined that Kiley’s soft moans came from her lips, and he drowned out the rest. Kiley continued to follow her script, responding to lines that Ed didn’t say. “No one!” she cried. “No one else owns this pussy but you!”

Kiley face down made it easier to imagine that it was Santiago. Ed hadn’t yet met a woman who didn’t succumb to his charm. He imagined that Santiago had, that it wasn’t just your garden variety brainwashing like Kiley Mara, but a deeply ingrained desire to be fucked by Edward Timothy King. She had denied him this pleasure for so long. He would make her pay for that, and she was going to love it.

“Do I still please you, Master?” Kiley asked Ed when they were finished.

Ed laid with his head propped up on his pillow, Kiley resting her head on his chest. He sat up as best he could to look again into her blank eyes. For a moment he thought he saw a genuine emotion. Clinical testing of Obedience lingerie had found that its wearers were capable of base, instinctual emotions, especially lust and jealousy, but that these instincts could be suppressed with thorough training. Ed liked to think he was thorough, but Kiley was asking questions that she shouldn’t have been able to.

“Of course you do,” he said. “You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had.”

“You’ve trained me well,” she smiled.

“Right,” he said.

“Do you love her, Master?” she asked.

“Santiago?” Ed laughed. “Absolutely not.”

“Then why does she drive you crazy?”

“She hates me,” Ed said.

“I couldn’t possibly hate you, Master,” Kiley replied.

“I know. She’s the only woman in my life with an authentic feeling and all I can think about is breaking her, bending her to my will until she’s my mindless bitch.”

“I can make her your mindless bitch, Master. I can make her just like me.”

“No,” he said. “She’ll come to me.”

______________

Santiago doubted her young assistant Toby when he first joined on at Trespess. He wasn’t her hire: he was someone’s nephew whose father had grown tired of summers spent watching him waste his life away in the pool house.

“I read about your first job here,” Toby said to Santiago when he first met her, his voice shaking a little in the presence of the boss. “I just want you to know that I appreciate everything you stand for. I think you’re very courageous.”

“Neat,” Santiago replied. Not like his appreciation didn’t make her feel like absolute garbage.

But Toby was a surprisingly hard worker and a naturally gifted researcher. He’d done half a bachelor’s in history at San Diego State before dropping out, which meant that he had some experience dredging through old newspaper articles in the library. Like most kids his age, he was chronically online and the speed out which he could track a name down sometimes scared Santiago. But she quickly found use for him. She didn’t tell Toby why she was so interested in Fleur-de-lis, but he never asked. He only did what was expected of him and left the rest to her.

Toby had booked Santiago the earliest flight available to Rio de Janeiro and within two days she was relaxing in her hotel, killing time until her meeting. Santiago knew that Ed was suspicious of her but she didn’t care. She’d made a deal not to break the story about Kiley Mara’s enslavement, and as far as Santiago was concerned, that was all she’d agreed to. So, she’d find a new story.

It was quiet in the hotel room. Santiago found that silence had been louder than ever since making her deal with Ed. First she tried drowning it out with television, but she couldn’t figure out how to connect Chromecast. So she laid in bed and accepted the noise in her head. She thought about the options she’d had. She knew that Ed was out there somewhere, probably fucking Kiley or one of his other slaves. That would have been her if she hadn’t agreed to walk away from the story. Her mind as empty as Kiley’s had been at the diner. Ed liked them on their knees.

Santiago burned up thinking about it. She’d begun to soak through her panties. It wasn’t just the guilt that led Santiago to imagine a life of slavery to Ed. When she’d been hired back on at Trespass, she left her fiancé. She said that it was hard to separate her love life for her work life, but truthfully she couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. It had been so long since she’d had a man inside of her. She would never allow Ed the satisfaction, but if he took her will from her, if she was powerless to do anything but what he commanded, she knew that he’d fuck her good.

The silence in the room was broken by the sound of her moans. She came as she imagined Ed deep inside of her.

She freshened up after and had just gotten out of the shower and settled into bed when she heard the knock on her door. She was underdressed in her oversized t-shirt and underwear, but hadn’t expected her guest to show up in anything fancy herself—clandestine meetings are rarely formal. Santiago rose from the bed and slipped on a pair of tights before checking the peephole and opening the door.

The woman standing there looked like a goddess. She was half a foot taller than Santiago, carrying herself with an air of authority that seemed to make her a half foot taller still. She was gorgeous, and if Santiago didn’t know any better, she could have mistaken her for one of Fleur-de-lis’ flowers.

“Hi,” she smiled, a little bit nervous, a little bit turned on still. “You must be Elena Maxwell.”

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