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orcasoul · 2 months ago

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The Lesser of Two Evils

Chapter summery: In the face of desperation, you make a life changing decision, which will benefit both yourself and Marcus.

Warnings: Swearing, smut (eventual), threats of rape, sexual harassment, violence, gore, detailed injuries, angst, enemies(ish) to lovers, protective Marcus Acacius, age gap, OFC/reader.

Word Count: 5,622

Chapter 2 Desperate Times

The evening stretched on and you made every effort to remain as invisible as possible. While Adhelm and his sons convened with the council and discussed the next plan of attack you busied yourself with preparing food for them, making sure to keep your eyes on your hands as you served them. But you didn't have to look up to know a pair of eyes were watching your every move. Predatory eyes, just waiting, biding their time. You could feel the hate closing around you, oppressive and suffocating. After serving everyone in attendance, Adhelm dismissed you and you couldn't have been more relieved.

You breathed the chilly night air in deeply through your nose as you stepped outside and released a sigh of relief. All you want now, is to get home, lock yourself away and try to ignore the sense of foreboding prickling under your skin. You hurry along the shadowed path, passing other homes filled with the voices of families, laughter and music. Often you would stop and remember what it felt like to have a family, to have a home filled with love and not just some weathered shack filled with silence and lonliness. But this is not the time for yearning. You need to get home, now.

The hair on your arms suddenly raise and it's nothing to do with the cold. Your heart begins to pound rapidly as the disquiet you'd felt earlier now shifts into an almost paralyzing fear. You are not alone! The sound of footsteps confirms your suspicions. You turn around quickly but the blanket of darkness hides whomever is following you. Your heart is now in your throat! Panic propels you to pick up the pace as you swiftly turn on your heel. As you round the corner of a storage building, relief sweeps over you but only for a moment before two strong arms engulf you; one around your midsection, squeezing your arms to your sides, and the other across your chest, hand pressing firmly over your mouth.

You try to scream, to free your arms but the grip is unforgiving. In your feeble attempt to resist all you can do is emit a muffled scream and kick out. The next thing you feel is the intense, sharp jolt, shooting from the back of your head. Glinting specs dance in your vision, almost resembling a vibrant night sky in the dark. A hand wraps around your throat and another finds your mouth once more. You blink harshly to clear your vision, the face coming into view being the one you loath the most. Fucking Bardulf! The arsehole flashes you a toothy grin, obviously pleased by your frightened response. He leans in closer to your face, snarling. "You really thought you could get away with that display back there?" Without a second thought you bit down on his hand.

Bardulf instantly recoils but before you can cry out he backhands you, knocking you to the ground. "Bitch!" he fumed as he pulled your head back by your hair. Your eyes widen in terror when you feel a sharp cold point pressing lightly at your throat. "Scream and I'll cut your fucking tongue out and ram it down your throat, understand?!" "Y... yes," you stutter, legs feeling like they might give way any second. Bardulf removes the knife and drags you to your feet, roughly slamming you against the side of the hut. "My father has been lenient with you for far too long. But that is about to come to an end," Bardulf smirked, your gut twisting up in response.

"Please, just let-" you whimper but he cuts you off, "Shut up! Kuno has no use for you so I convinced him to give you to me when he becomes chief. Told him I'd... "look after you". You want to stay strong. You want to mask the dread you feel right now, but your face betrays you, much to the delight of your assailant. "Things are going to change around here very soon. You will learn your place. I won't just beat it into you..." he slithers a hand down your torso, gripping your waist. Your stomach threatens to expell it's contents as his filthy paws continue to grope you. "I'll fuck it into you!"

Your heart plummets. For a moment you are speechless. He can't be serious! Why does he hate you so much? What have you ever done to him to deserve this campaign of hate he has waged against you for so long? "You c... can't! Your fathers' rule-" "Will die with him. When you are mine I shall do with you as I please. Your body will be my body," he says as he smoothes a rough finger over your cheek. Just the feel of his skin against your makes you wish you could shed your own and grow a new, untainted one.

"Why?" You begin to cry -more from frustration than fear now - despite your best efforts not to. "Why do you despise me? Why do you constantly torment me!" "Because I can," Bardulf gripped your chin, forcing your eyes up to his. "You will show me the respect I deserve. I'm going to break you, slowly. Oh, it'll be such fun," he snickered, almost maniacally, the shadows of the surrounding buildings making him appear more menacing than ever before. He continued, "I'm going to break you..." his lip curled in a cruel grin. "And once I've had my fun, I will enjoy watching you die as I squeeze the life from you."

Tightness grips your chest as his words chill you to the bone. Rage has now taken root, strangling the fear from you. "Fuck you, you loathsome piece of shit!" you lashed out, finding it within you to push him away. A repulsive smile stretched across his face. "I'll let that one slide this time, Alia. Savour it, while it lasts." Bardulf releases his hold on you and walks away, laughing to himself. You sprint home as fast as you can, locking your door before falling onto your bed and sobbing uncontrollably.

"It'll be okay. We'll be okay!" your mother stressed while holding you tightly in her arms, but the tremble of her body betrayed her words of reassurance. Outside your house, angry voices are rising in pitch, demanding that your mother show herself. In amongst the commotion your fathers' voice rang out, loud and determined, warning the gathered mob to go home. "Stay here," your mother whispered and began to rise from the corner you were both huddled in. You grip her arm, desperation in your eyes and voice. "Don't go mama, please!" "I'm just going to the window." She cupped your cheek, the warmth of her flesh soothing your nerves. If only you'd known that would be the last time you'd feel her gentle touch.

The storm of anger outside seemed to escalate with every passing minute, more and more voices joining the already volatile crowd. "You're all a bunch of gullible fools!" your father exploded. "She has nothing to do with the failed crops. You're just looking for something or someone to blame and I won't allow you to blame her!" "Bring her out, bring her out, bring her out!" the horde kept chanting. You cover your ears and close your eyes, desperate to drown out the noise, heart thumping so wildly, you fear it may burst through your chest. Your whole body jumps when your mother lets out an anguished scream and bolts for the door.

Scrambling to your feet, you run outside after her but stop dead in your tracks, muscles frozen, shock and disbelief anchoring you to the spot as you witness your fathers' blood soaked body fall to the ground. "Papa!" you whimper, all the air now having left your lungs as if you'd been punched in the stomach. You gasp for air, tears burning your eyes. Your mothers' piercing cries shake you from your stupor. "No! Mama!" you scream as she gets dragged off of your fathers' lifeless body. You only manage to run a few steps towards her before you feel multiple hands gripping your arms, fingers digging into your flesh as you fight against their hold.

"Please, please don't hurt her!" you beg the frenzied crowd but it falls on deaf ears. Your mother screams your name as she is beaten and kicked mercilessly. Accusations are spat at her along with the words "Witch" and "kill her". The whole time you struggle, frantically, to free yourself, screaming and pleading until your throat is raw. She is then pulled to her feet and dragged back to your house. You pull against the men restraining you so forcefully it feels like your shoulders might dislocate. Her once beautiful face, now black and blue and dripping with blood seeks your own before she is thrown through the door.

A man carrying a lit torch approaches your house and your eyes widen in horror, the world slowing down for you as you watch him throw the torch onto the thatched roof. In a matter of seconds your home is a blazing inferno, your innocent mothers' screams joining the crackle of the flames. You have no voice. Your strength abandons you, falling to your knees, mouth open to scream but nothing can escape the crushing sorrow and anger constricting your lungs. You clutch your hands to your chest, tears streaming down your cheeks while your life as you knew it literally goes up in flames before your very eyes.

Your body shoots upright, chest heaving as your wide eyes dart around the dark room. It's silent, oppressively so, the cold, empty darkness being the only witness to your grief. It's been a long time since you'd dreamed of that day, of your parents' death, but Bardulf's threat had festered in your mind as you drifted off into an uneasy sleep. Using your sleeve, you wipe your tears away and sit up in bed. Your body longs for comfort, for a time when the embrace of your parents felt like an impenetrable shield. Nothing could hurt you back then. With a heavy heart, you wrap your fleece blanket around your body and bring your knees to your chest, hugging and resting your chin on them. Only you can comfort yourself now and it has to be enough.

These people - who were supposed to be your people - have taken everything from you; your family, your freedom, your dignity - even your only friend. fresh tears form at your lashes at the thought of Faro. You'll always carry the weight of his death with you. But also a silent rage at Bardulf; the bastard even grinned at you as he slit his throat! For the past fifteen years the community has shunned you, the chief and his family had enslaved and alienated you and the kids you had grown up with made your existence hell with their relentless bullying.

And for what? All because some fear mongering arseholes had convinced the village that your mother was a Seer (witch) and was responsible for a bad harvest. The familiar sting of anger wells up again, replacing the hopelessness you'd awoken to only minutes ago. Fuck these people! The only reason you were spared that night was because you were only a child at the time, and the only reason no one had dared to take your virtue is because Adhelm feared your "Seers' blood" and threatened death upon anyone who touched you. But very soon, even that one last thing that was just yours will be taken from you.

Your belly twists in discomfort knowing that Bardulf will take what he wants from you and when he tires of you, he will kill you like a worthless animal. Unless... you get the hell out of here. The option to flee had always been there - and Faro often spoke of starting again somewhere new - but you knew you both never would have survived on your own; two children out there alone... It just wasn't possible. Your father had taught you how to hunt small animals and how to fish, but if the elements didn't get you, the bears and wolves would eventually. Fleeing was a death sentence for so long, but now...? Maybe salvation is possible. Salvation in the form of an injured and angry Roman General sitting in a cage not too far from your hut.

Marcus shivers as a cold breeze licks at his bare arms. In quiet contemplation he sits against the bars watching the moon spill it's silvery luminescence in a halo around itself, his mind transported to simpler times; times when he observed the moon from his balcony back home, when the mere sight of it would offer peace and stillness to the emotional scars of years of battles and slayings. But tonight he feels no such piece. He has accepted the fact that he will die soon, already having beseeched Mars to lend his unwavering strength to his men, his brothers, and not allow his public execution to quell their resolve and weaken their moral.

Rome will be victorious, no matter what these heathen beasts do. Rome is the light and darkness cannot dwell where - "General..." Marcus startles from his pensive state at the unexpected whisper in the dark. Posture rigid, he scans the immediate area but the darkness is almost impenetrable. "General!" the voice whispers again, with more urgency this time. "Who's there?" Marcus demanded. "Shhh... someone will hear us." Marcus lowers his voice. "I said who's there? Show yourself." "I can't. It's Alia. You must be still or you'll draw attention." "What do you want?" Marcus asks in a hushed tone, turning his head a fraction over his shoulder in the direction of your voice.

"I need to ask you something," you begin, your voice cautious. "Is it possible for an... outsider to become a Roman citizen?" Marcus remained silent for a moment, unsure if he'd heard you correctly. Surely you couldn't be planning on abandoning your people. "Why would you-" "I haven't the time to explain. Please just tell me if it's possible for someone like me to begin anew as a subject of Rome!" The urgency in your voice leads Marcus to wonder what could have happened for you to seek out refuge from your enemy. It must be pretty bad for you to take such a drastic action. "Yes, as long as you have committed no crime nor treason against Rome, anyone can be granted citizenship."

In the still of the night Marcus hears you release a sigh of... relief? "In that case, I have a proposition for you," you venture carefully. "Speak..." Marcus encourages you. "I will help you escape and get you back to your army if you promise that you'll take me to Rome with you and make me a Roman citizen." Marcus' immediate reaction is disgust at your disloyalty to your people, but he bit back his scorn; after all, you just might be his only hope. "I will-" he began but you cut him off. "Swear to me!" you demanded. "On my honour, I will take you to Rome, and I will personally and publicly grant you citizenship an all the rights and protection that entails."

You take a deep breath, then exhale, "Okay... In three days there will be a ceremony and celebration in honour of our youngest warriors' coming of age. Almost everyone will attend except for a few watchmen. When the time is right, I will create a distraction and then I'll come for you. This will be our only opportunity. If we fail, we are dead. Do you understand?" "I understand. I will be ready," Marcus assured. "In the meantime you must eat and build up your strength. Until then, General." Marcus listened to the sound of you shuffling away through the trees. He leans his head back against the bars, a glimmer of hope sparking within. Maybe the gods aren't done with me yet.

The next two days pass agonisingly slowly. You tend to your duties while keeping your head down, trying your best to remain inconspicuous to everyone, especially Bardulf, but every now and then you catch his sickening leer boring into you, giving you a look as if to say "It's only a matter of time." If your escape plan fails, it's all over for you. You won't wait for Bardulf to enforce his inhuman punishment on you. You'll escape or die trying. Either way he won't get what he wants and the fact that you'll be the one to ensure that, brings a quiet satisfaction to your anxious mind.

While tending to Marcus' leg you'd also snuck in some extra food to help build his strength during those days, silently mouthing "soon" to him. The night before your escape, your whole body is thrumming with uneasy apprehension. You're not sleeping tonight. You mentally rehash the escape plan over and over, praying you've left nothing to chance. Your bag is packed - and hidden away - with everything you'll need for the journey; water, ointments and balms, bandages and a small stash of fruit and dried meat that you were able to sneak from the mead hall. It's not much but it will have to do.

Dawn breaks while you continue to pace around in your hut, willing your jittery nerves to abate. It's imperative that you maintain a cool facade today. A few moments of deep, slow breathing helps to alleviate the storm brewing in your stomach. You can do this. The whole village is abuzz today, with the excitement of tonight's ceremony. While preparations are under way, you are escorted once again to Marcus' cage, food, water and fresh bandages in tow. The guard is never too far away so you keep your voice as low as you can. "Today's the day," you whisper while dressing Marcus' leg, still to intimidated by him to look him in the eye.

It's not lost on you just how thick and muscular his thigh is; a sobering reminder that this man is dangerous and could easily overpower you once you are both alone and kill you with ease. But at this point you have nothing left to lose. "After the ceremony the celebrations will begin. Once the wine is upon them, I will start a fire..." you glance around quickly, ensuring no one is within earshot. "While they are distracted I will come for you. Be ready." "I will... thank you, Alia." Marcus' unexpected gratitude and soft tone caused you to forget yourself momentarily, your eyes flicking up to be met with a softness you hadn't imagined possible from someone like him.

Instead of the cold, sharp glare he'd granted you at your initial meeting, he now regards you with gratitude and... something you can't really discern. The intensity of the moment makes you heart leap in your chest and you can no longer comfortably hold his gaze, so you lower your eyes. "Don't thank me yet, General," you shook your head. "Marcus," he replies swiftly. "Marcus," you repeat awkwardly after a moment, glancing at his face then away just as quickly. "Make sure to eat." You gesture to the bowl you had set down beside him. "You're going to need your strength." And with that you bag up your supplies and stand by the gate, calling to be let out.

As Marcus watched you walk away he's suddenly overwhwelmed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions; hope - however small - that he'll live to see his home again, uncertainty that this risky plan of yours will actually work and a gnawing consternation at having to place his fate in the hands of, not just a stranger, but an enemy. As much as he would like to trust you, he knows the only reason you want to help him him is to help yourself. He can't help but wonder, again, what could have happened for theses Gutones to treat one of their own so abhorrently, which also leads him to wonder if you're more dangerous than you seem. He'll have to keep a close eye on you.

It's clear there's a lot going on that he's not aware of... but if it brings him his freedom and a second chance to live, he'll accept your help as desperate times call for desperate measures and even enemies can benefit from aiding one another sometimes, but he'll never be foolish enough to fully trust you. Now all he has to do is wait for the moment to arrive and in the meantime he will pray to Mercury to guide his and your steps and lead you both to the sanctuary of the Castrum (army encampment).

The ceremony went without a hitch - or at least you assume so, as you were never included in social events, unless it was to serve, and that's what you are doing now; serving the increasingly drunk and rowdy young warriors and their families. The evening stretches into night and finally, the time has come. It's now or never. While most of the women and children have returned to their homes and settled in for the night, the men continue their frivolities becoming more and more inebriated. Using the situation to your advantage, you slip away from the mead hall unnoticed, keeping to the shadows as you hurry to your hut to retrieve your bag.

Your heart is thumping in your ears, hands shaking as you exit your hut for the last time. But before you execute the next step of your plan, you have one more stop to make. Adhelms home is thankfully abandoned for the time being, he and his sons still eating and drinking their fill in the mead hall, unaware of your intrusion. On the back wall of his home is a large rack, full of weapons he'd acquired from defeated foes. The smug bastard seemed to pride himself on his "spoils of war" as he'd called them. Among the display was your fathers Seax (dagger) still in it's sheath, taken the night your parents were murdered.

With a pounding heart, you take the Seax from the rack, your fingertips trailing over the intricately carved zig zags running down both sides of the mahogany hilt. Tears build behind your eyes as just the mere touch of this knife brought forth a connection, a closeness with your father that you'd never expected to feel again. You carefully tuck it into the belt around your tunic and with a new determination, leave the chiefs home, grabbing a lit torch from a sconce on the way out.

Marcus waits anxiously for what fells like an eternity, in a constant state of hypervigilance, expecting you to show up at any moment. Every sound in the dark catching his ear sends his adrenaline spiking, but every time it's a false alarm. Frustration and doubt begin to creep in the longer he waits. She's not coming! Had you lost the nerve or been caught? Damn it! You were his only way out. He was a fool to put his faith in you. Marcus growls quietly to himself, careful not to draw he attention of the guard close by. Just when he'd thought all was lost an orange glow lighting up the darkness at the other end of the village caught his eye.

Panicked voices arose through the village as the orange light grew brighter and and the crackle of flames filed the air. The guard keeping watch lingered for a few moments, seemingly unsure of whether or not he should abandon his post, but as the chaos intensified he hurried off, disappearing around the side of a building. Marcus pulled himself to his feet lumberingly, limping to the other side of the cage, eager to see what was happening. His brow scrunched in confusion when thud followed by a pained groan rang out close by. A moment later, you emerged from where the guard had disappeared, keys clinking as you rushed to the cage door. "We have to go now, before he wakes!" you cried as you clumsily fumbled with the keys, trying each one out until the lock finally clicked.

Throwing the cage door open you hurried inside, forgetting all about the initial fear you'd felt in this Romans' presence. The only thing that matters now is escaping. Slinging one of Marcus' arms over your shoulder, you brace yourself to support his weight and the two of you make haste, away from the village and into the surrounding woodland. Scrambling through the inky black forrest with loose rocks and branches and twigs from broken trees and low bushes would be an arduous endeavour at the best of times, but trying to keep your footing whist helping to drag this mountain of a man with you is proving increasingly difficult.

It's obvious by Marcus' grunting and heavy breaths that he's mustering all the strength he has to keep pushing forward. "It's... not far... now. Urrgh... we're... nearly there," your voice shakes under the sheer exertion, your arms and legs burning with every step. "Where are we... going?" Marcus panted, twisting his head in every direction, keeping a ear out for the sound of anyone following. "There's a small... clearing... up ahead. I've got a... horse waiting... for us there." Sweat is trickling down your back now, your lungs aching with every drag of air you take in but you find the will to keep going. Nothing will stop you now... you hope.

A few minutes later you both arrive at the clearing. The full moon is bathing the open area in a soft milky gleam, the limited light enough to guide your way. It's as though the god Mani himself has taken issue with your predicament and had decided to lend you his favour. The horse you had managed to sneak out of the village in the early hours of this morning stands calmly next to the tree you'd tethered her to. A quick glance at your surroundings shows no sign of immediate danger, so you swiftly make your way over to the horse, only slowing down as you draw closer. You're greeted with an agitated whinny as the horse shuffles nervously.

You carefully pull yourself from under Marcus' arm and hold your palm out for the horse to sniff. "Shhh easy, Inga," you sooth while digging an apple from your bag. "Easy, girl. Sorry I left you here for so long." You rub down the center of her face, all the way to her velvety muzzle as she happily munches on the peace offering you'd given her. Once Inga had been placated you turn back to Marcus. "Quick!" you gesture to the horse and crouch down, interlacing you fingers to serve as a sort of step to help him mount. "I can manage," Marcus insisted, knowing you'll never be able to lift him.

Gripping onto the pommel of the crude looking saddle, Marcus took a deep breath, mentally and physically preparing himself for the coming agony of swinging his injured leg over the horses' wide body. With a surge of reserved energy and determination, he lifts his leg, throwing his entire weight along with it, swallowing the painful howl trying to claw it's way up his throat. Unfortunately in his weakened state, Marcus wasn't able to gather the needed momentum and bagan to fall backwards. Before he could fall off the horse completely, you appeared behind him, pushing him up and helping to steady him as he settled on Inga.

You flicked your wrist. "Move back." Marcus raised a questioning eyebrow at your order, remaining where he sat. "I know the direction to my Castrum." "In the dark?" you ask sceptically, surprising yourself with the hint of challenge in your voice. "How do you know the way?" he asked, as if he were afraid you'd get lost. "I overhear everything in Adhelms home," is all you offer. "Very well," Marcus conceded and slid back to sit behind the saddle. He offered his hand to pull you up. You reach out, fingers barely brushing his when all of a sudden a sharp yank of your hair sends a shockwave of pin pricks rippling across your scalp.

Your hands automatically fly up to where the pain radiates. Next thing you know, you are spun around, face to face with an enraged Adhelm. "Treacherous bitch!" he snarled in your face, fury twisting his weathered features into a grotesque appearance. "After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay my kindness, by betraying your people, your home!" "Let me go!" you shrieked, trying to free yourself from Adhelms iron grip. Through the sound of your pulse rushing in your ears you hear Marcus' threatening voice, demanding your release, followed by a distressed groan and thud on the ground.

As you writhe and fight to keep your hair this time, Adhelm continued, "I should have killed you alongside your parents. I knew you couldn't be trusted. It's in your blood, you evil, degenerate cunt! You'll pay dearly for this betrayal!" The air is forced from your lungs as your body is slammed against a nearby tree, the shock of the impact manifesting in sparks of white before your eyes. You only manage a couple of breaths before Adhelms hands crush your throat, cutting of your air intake completely. You scratch, desperately at his rough hands, throat burning and eyes watering; the pressure building behind them leaves you afraid they will burst from their sockets any moment.

A haze begins to settle over your mind, making it difficult to focus on anything around you. The panicked whinny of Inga and the deep growl of Marcus' voice sound muffled and far away. Everything seems to be slipping away, like a feather, floating into the distance on a calm wind. "You have always been more trouble than you're worth," Adhelm continued to rant, the hatred in his voice bringing your focus back to the present. In a final attempt of self preservation, your hand went to your belt, as if it remembered what your terrified brain couldn't; father's knife! What happened next was mostly a blur. Warmth pooled over your hand and Adhelms words were replaced with a gasp and a wide eyed look of disbelief and anger.

His hands slid from your throat and you coughed violently as much needed oxygen rushed into your lungs. When his body hit the ground your eyes travelled to the knife lodged in his chest. Blood continued to pour as his chest stilled and the life in his eyes dimmed until they just became empty, glazed over orbs fixed on the sky. You're frozen! Light headed and you're certain you will throw up any second. Your chest is clamping down on itself, making it near impossible to breathe. You'd just killed a man! Yes, he was cruel and dangerous, but he'd died by your hand. A hand that had never exacted violence against anyone before.

Reality itself seems to have distorted; maybe it's all just a bad dream? You cannot tear your eyes away from the corpse at your feet and at the same time you can't bare to look. You think you hear your name being called over and over, but it's irrelevant. Tears spring to your eyes and begin to roll down your cheeks. At first you barely register the weighted feeling on your shoulders as you are turned around to a demanding and authoritative voice. "Hey, look at me, look at me! You did what you had to do. It's okay," Marcus tried to sound reassuring, but in the moonlight he could see you weren't actually there, a blank teary stare is his only response.

"Get on the horse before someone else comes!" You stagger forward as he pulls you with him and it's then it really hits you. You yank your wrist from his hand and clutch your stomach as a wave of sobs wash over you. "I k-killed him! What have I done?! Oh Gods!" Marcus turns back to face you, gripping both of your upper arms now. "You defended yourself," he asserted forcefully. "There's no wrong or shame in that, you hear me?" But you don't hear him. All you can hear are the echoes of Adhelms laboured gasps just moments ago. You're certain the wretched sounds will haunt you forever.

Marcus can see that his words will not help you right now and precious time is wasting away. Any minute you could be discovered. You continue to cry, lost in your own mind and Marcus curses himself for what he's about to do. "I'm so sorry about this," he mutters, shaking his head, then slaps your cheek - not hard enough to really hurt, but it's enough to shock you back into clarity. The moment he hears the slap is the moment he sees recognition and coherence resurface in you, along with a look of shock and vulnerability. Marcus buries the instant remorse he feels. He can feel bad about it later. Right now you both have to get as far away as possible.

In a no nonsense tone he says, "Get. On. The. Horse. Now... Or this was all in vain." That seemed to have knocked some sense and urgency into you as you nod and rush back to Inga, who's stomping a hoof in frustration. You untie the reins from the tree and Marcus helps you up onto her back. Once seated you extend your arm to pull him up. Between his heavy weight and lack of strength it takes a lot of effort to pull him up. Eventually he settles behind you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. With a kick to Ingas ribs, she speeds off into the forrest and the dead of night.

Series Masterlist Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Ch 4

@myownwholewildworld @imherefordeanandbones @picketniffler @h0w-1-wanna-l1v3 @chrissy-forfucksakes-wakeup @meetmeatyourworst @yorksgirl @joeldjarin @echo-ethe @whirlwindrider29

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius x female reader #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 movie #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x ofc #marcus acacius fluff #marcus acacius angst

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fresitasmoribund · 2 months ago

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Beyond Marginalia

-`♡´- pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

-`♡´- summary: Having to borrow a book for Alchemy wasn’t your preferred way to meet someone. But when you begin to have conversations in the margins of a textbook with a stranger, you’re more than intrigued.

-`♡´- contains: does this count as a meet-cute?

-`♡´- warnings: i had to dig deep to sound like a very philosophical alchemist

-`♡´- masterlist

-`♡´- word count: 3.4k

-`♡´- a.n: this turned out longer than I meant it to be

You dreaded having to take Alchemy, but you were desperate for how it would look academically. And you were a little hopeful that you’d at least learn something interesting. You were wrong, for the most part. For such an interesting-sounding course, it was rather… repetitive at times. But you were going to stick through it. All you need is your parchment, trusty quill, and your book – and you’ll be set to pass before you know it.

You lost your book only halfway through the first week of the course.

You scoured through your bag, your dorm, the library, and even consulted with a few paintings. But it had vanished – as if swallowed by the very elements it was meant to explain.

You’d earned a stern scolding from your professor when you sheepishly revealed the status of your book’s location. But what could you do? It was nowhere you could find. The look on your face must have saved you from losing any house points, but she did make sure you knew that you were not to lose any more Alchemy books. Because the class was small and resources limited, she had said, you would have to share a textbook with a student who had a different schedule. You just hoped they weren’t the type to draw anything inappropriate that might somehow get you in trouble.

“Alright, fellow borrower.” You sighed before opening the book. “What wisdom shall you offer me in the form of crude sketches?”

But the person who you shared this book with was quite the opposite of what you had expected. They were already well ahead in the chapters and left some very insightful notes – it was brilliant, really. It made studying much easier – provided they were clever enough. Judging by the meticulous scribbles in the margins, they seemed to be.

Your fellow classmate’s handwriting was immaculate—too immaculate for a typical student. Each and every page they seemed to go over was filled with tidy annotations in deep, almost-too-perfect ink – organized and detailed. There were no random doodles or ramblings – only sharp, precise notes that seemed to outline everything in perfect order.

In the following days that it was your turn with the book, you used the stranger’s notes to your advantage after writing your own. And, more times than not, you shared the same judgement and interpretation of the material.

You were almost catching up with them after setting a goal to surpass them somehow. A little academic competition never harmed anyone, did it?

As you leaf through the worn book one afternoon, skimming over all their highlights and notes, one of them sticks out in a later chapter. Right under the large title, a note was left. One that was unusually snarky for your mystery annotator.

Another whole chapter on transforming lead into gold. Lovely.

A slow smile graces your features as you huff in amusement. They were right, of course. You weren’t sure how many times the subject would be taught.

Your fingers hover over the next page, still trying to absorb the information on metallic transmutations and their metaphysical connections. But your mind keeps wandering back to that note. Whoever it was you shared this book with was getting just as tired as you were – that was a comforting thought.

As you continue your reading, you found more dry comments pointing to your book partner’s growing exasperation.

This is the worst example of alliteration I’ve ever read. Was the author asleep?

And:

Yes, because THAT’S going to come up in the exam.

You were starting to appreciate the break from unnecessary hyperbole that were forcefully crammed together with academic jargon.

The next time you dive into a section, words were mostly underlined. It isn’t until you reach a particularly dry explanation about the relationship between alchemical substances and human nature that you come across another note. You roll your eyes at the overly complicated metaphor about the “sublime unity of opposites” and “the celestial influence of Jupiter” before reading what your partner had to say about it.

More painfully obvious metaphors. At least pretend to be subtle.

The bluntness of it has you exhaling a laugh through your nose. And, before you can stop yourself, you grab your quill and scratch a quick reply in the margin:

Pretending to be subtle doesn’t sound very subtle to me.

A small part of you is regretting what you just did, and you wonder if it was foolish to write back. After all, you weren’t sure if they would appreciate your retort or if they’d even read it. But then again, you are bored and desperate. The small thrill of talking to a stranger in such an unconventional way follows you even after turning the page.

You were halfway through the next chapter when you stumble upon yet another pretentious phrase. The author had described Principia Alchemica – the title of the book – as “a seminal text in the canon of alchemical studies.” You can’t help it. The more you read, the more the book’s lofty language makes you cringe. You always thought Alchemy was meant to be more practical, but this text made everything feel so abstract – so high minded. That’s why you left another note:

“A seminal text.” Sounds messy.

You weren’t too proud of it, but it made you snort just a little. It was a bit cheeky, but honestly, this whole thing was starting to feel like an unnecessary circus of symbolism. You won’t really wait for a reply, but you wanted to let the stranger know you were up for conversation.

A few days later, you open the coursebook again, flipping idly through the pages. You freeze when you spot it.

Glad to see someone else who knows this text is a bit… much. Good one.

You blink. Had they actually replied to you?

Smiling, you continue with your studying since you didn’t have long with the book tonight.

It doesn’t take much time to reach another chapter so weighed down with metaphor that you start to wonder if the author had forgotten they were writing a textbook and not a bad novel. They had seriously chosen the wrong profession. Every chapter feels like wading through a thick swamp of unnecessary poetic language, the concepts buried under numerous layers of parables that strain even your patience.

You skim over the paragraph for the third time, using all the literary skills you have in order to dissect whatever spiritual connection the author was fabricating. He must have been on drugs, was your final verdict.

The author waxed lyrically about “the juxtaposition between the earthly and the divine” and how it reflected in the journey the human soul must take through sin, suffering, and reaching an eventual enlightenment. By the time you reached the end of the paragraph where you swear the author was just repeating the same sentence differently as a form of manipulation, you felt as if your brain had hopped out of your cranium and hung itself to dry.

You frown, your eyes flicking to the margin where another note was scrawled:

If I have to read the word “juxtaposition” one more time, I’ll scream.

You exhale sharply, nearly laughing out loud in the library. You don’t hesitate to reply.

You’ve just written it, mate. Enjoy screaming.

There was that thrill again at seeing your words next to theirs. Somewhere out there, your mysterious book-sharing partner was going to see that and—well, you don’t know what they’d think. But that was part of the fun, wasn’t it?

The thought lingered with you for the rest of the day.

The next Alchemy period, you crack the book open again, pretending to follow along while your professor drones on. You eagerly look for your last note, hoping for a response. Sure enough, it was there – nestled beneath your note in the same sharp handwriting:

Touché. I suppose I’ll suffer through the screaming for now. Are you trouble?

Your lips twitch as you read it. Trouble? You weren’t sure about that, but this was the most fun you’d had in Alchemy since the term began.

Only when the material calls for it. Should I include your tidbit in my study time, or is that just for me?

You tap the end of your quill against the desk, staring at your reply as you tune back in to your lesson. Somehow, this back-and-forth was making the endless drudgery of Principia Alchemica bearable.

You wondered if they felt the same.

The next few days pass in a haze of classes, coursework, and the usual chaos of Hogwarts life. But you were mostly looking forward to every spare moment with the Alchemy book. The weighty tome, which had once filled you with dread, now seemed a little more stimulating.

You’re slouching in one of the armchairs by a fireplace, trying to power through yet another mind-numbing chapter. You were hardly paying any mind to the information – you were more focused on reading the response awaiting you. Your patience is rewarded after you’re done with the tangent on the “alchemy of the human condition.”

I think the author’s overcompensating here. All he needed to say is that purification is about balance and focus.

You dip your quill into the inkpot and write back immediately:

Harsh, but valid.

While you continue to write notes and highlights further than they seemed to have read, you take the initiative to spark a deeper connection with your enigmatic book partner.

This book is absolutely suffocating, but you’re hilarious, so thanks.

You don’t expect a quick reply, but when you check the coursebook in the morning the next day, there it is – tucked beneath your own words:

Glad my misery can bring you joy. Cheers. – R

“R?” Did you know an R? You stare at the initial, tilting your head as if that might reveal their identity. The only people you knew whose names began with R were… well, not many, actually. A few names sift through your mind, but none of them feel right. Still, it was exciting to know the mystery stranger was willing to play along.

From there, conversations and replies were passed through the book more than actual annotations. You used a certain ink for your quill, so you don’t find it necessary to include your initial like they do. Or maybe you liked dragging out the revelation on your end?

You brace yourself for more of the author’s overly philosophical musings, telling yourself that the notes would be worth the metaphorical fluff. There was something about some kind of dance of opposing elements in an existential struggle of mankind that you almost skipped to read something left on the page’s margin.

This chapter is making me question my life choices. You? – R

Earning a sharp glance from Madam Pince for snickering, you scribble back:

I question mine constantly.

You were past the point of caring about what the punishment would be for vandalism. Using the dusty textbook as some sort of communication device was far too fun to pass up. As the days rolled by, the notes were less about the material.

You’re far too quick to suggest fire as a solution. Are you a Gryffindor? – R

Who knows. Are you this judgy about everything?

The following conversation came after a philosopher – Steel Pineneedle – was being referenced for his metaphor of the banquet and the Alchemist’s pursuit of the Magnum Opus. Replying came naturally now.

Or just how not to throw a party.

Their response had been:

Big fan of Pineneedle, are you? – R

The material quickly became background noise. It’s the notes – the exchanges – that keep you coming back. R’s latest message sat in front of you, and you’re struck by how different it is. They’d been teasing you about your studying habits, saying something along the lines of how you’re far too easily distracted. And as much as you roll your eyes at the fact that they’re probably right, you scribble back:

What kind of girl do you take me for?

Your quill lingers in the air, hovering for a moment as you realize the words may have come across a bit… flirtatious. You didn’t intend it to sound like that, but something about it has you smiling to yourself as you shut the book.

When you go back to the margins during your turn with the book again, you freeze.

There was a note with a line through it – but you could still make it out:

A proper fit one, I hope.

You stare at the crossed-out note, your heart skipping a beat. The handwriting wasn’t R’s, you realize. It’s messier, slanted at an angle – a more rushed penmanship. A message under that one – with a scrawling you could recognize – says:

Promise I didn’t write that – R

You breathe a little easier, though your face still heats up. If not them, who had it been? You hadn’t seen anyone else writing on the margins. A friend? The implication of R talking about you to their friends causes your thoughts to scatter. Oddly, you feel pleased.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, gazing at the text again and trying to read it in a different light. But the mystery deepens. With a sigh, you close the book – knowing it’s time for another round of waiting.

Having been buried under a particularly long Potions essay for a few days, you’d been neglecting the Alchemy book—and, more importantly, the notes. You feel a little bad reading over them. They had piled up in the margins, their familiar scrawl weaving through sections you hadn’t touched yet.

Your breath hitches when you stumble upon one:

It’s a good thing I’m patient, considering how distracting you’ve been. Did you finally get through that section, or am I still waiting for a reply? – R

They’ve been waiting for a reply? That’s… oddly sweet. And annoying – though the sweetness outweighs the annoyance. You bite your lip, trying to figure out how to respond.

My life extends beyond our little chats. Glad to know you missed me though.

Something about what followed your comment had you feeling like you were anticipating an outcome. Now, you didn’t have the gift of foresight – your performance in Divination was a testament to this – but your intuition was screaming at you.

You’re a terrible influence. What would our professor say? – R

Nothing you should be concerned about. Let’s worry about the trouble you’re having connecting the human spirit with mercurial fluidity and sulfuric heat.

This is starting to sound like a self-help book. – R

Tell me about it. I think I need a drink to get through the chapter.

You’re very quick to resort to alcohol. Might be an issue. – R

I can read past your jealousy. I’m sure you’d crack first.

Is that a challenge? – R

You find yourself replaying the idle moments as the days blur together. Each sharp-witted note you uncover, you follow like a thread leading you closer to someone whose identity remains vexingly out of reach. And then, after a few weeks of this strange and captivating camaraderie – it changes. A message greets you that’s unlike the others.

Care to meet me in the library? Tuesday, 5 PM. – R

The words seem to leap off the page, and you simply stare at them. Your heart picks up an uneasy rhythm as you read it over and over again. You’re sure you’re imagining it.

This person—this stranger who has been leaving pieces of themselves in the margins of your book—has asked to meet you. In person. Face to face. All the banter, the teasing, the sense of connection that has grown between you, they want to bring it into the real world.

The library is quiet, save for the occasional rustling of pages and the soft murmurs of the students studying in isolated corners. It was a typical afternoon in Hogwarts, the kind where the lights filter through the large windows and cast long shadows. The familiar scent of books and dust soothe your nerves enough to keep you from hanging your head low. You didn’t want to miss your stranger. You walk between the shelves, the weight of the textbook feeling heavier than it usually does.

You pause for a moment, looking around the library. You weren’t sure who you were looking for, and that made you feel a little silly. Another detail should have been disclosed to make this easier – but you were here now. That’s what mattered. Anxiety settles in your chest as you scan every soul in your vicinity.

You swear on your life that you felt an electrical shock when you made eye contact with him.

Well, you weren’t 100 percent certain it was him – but something about those eyes of his made your head feel lighter somehow. The connection was instantaneous. As you approach the table, your heart beats in tandem with your hurried steps.

“Right,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, “so we’re off to burn the book, then go for drinks, yes?”

You blink at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. But then, as your brain computes the twinkle in his eyes and curve of his lips, you can’t help but laugh.

“Burn the book?” you ask.

“Only the bits where I feel like my soul is being drained,” he replies, now smiling wider. “You know, the usual alchemy stuff—‘the eternal balance of elements’ and ‘the metaphysical connection between human spirit and…’ well, whatever they go on about.”

He waves his hand dismissively, as though the words are already forgotten.

The tension in your shoulders eases. Maybe you were expecting a more awkward exchange. After all, you spent nearly a month swapping books and notes without ever knowing who he was. And now here he sat – in the flesh—someone whose personality had captivated you in the margins of a book.

“That sounds like a perfectly reasonable idea.” You smile to match his. “Will you be crying out Incendio? Shall I? Both of us at the same time?”

“Two’s better than one, I suppose. I’m Remus. Lupin.”

You tell him your name.

Sitting across from him, a quiet thud comes from the book as you drop it onto the table. There is a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable – more like the pause between two people who had known each other longer than the two of you have. You glance down at the book, the one that had sparked all these bizarre, random, and unexpectedly enjoyable conversations.

“Burning it might be a bit dramatic,” he admits, tapping the side of his finger on the edge of the table. “But I think we could do better than just analyzing it. We could always talk about something else.”

You cock your head, intrigued. “Like what?”

“Like…” He pauses. “Anything that doesn’t involve alchemy specifically. We’ve already done enough of that.”

You lean back in your chair. “What else do you have in mind?”

“Well,” he begins, shifting forward in his seat, “we could always talk about how you’re planning on surviving the rest of the term. Because, trust me, I’m not sure alchemy will be the thing that gets you through.”

“Survival,” you repeat, “that’s dramatic.”

“Ah, but it’s fitting, isn’t it? Given the state of our coursework.”

The two of you shared a laugh, and for a while, the world beyond the table felt distant.

You weren’t sure what to say, so you decide to change the subject, asking, “So, what now? You’ve been quite the mystery for weeks.”

“Now?” His voice is quieter. “Now, we figure out how much trouble we’re really in for. Marginalia on a textbook not owned by either of us is still a form of vandalism, so…”

You raise an eyebrow, about to respond with a sharp retort when he holds up a hand, cutting you off.

“Only kidding.” He smirks. “But really, you’ve been a great distraction. I suppose we ought to talk about something else before we get caught talking about it.”

The two of you share another glance, the silence stretching out comfortably between you again. You want to ask more—who he was, what he was really like—but the words didn’t quite come out. Instead, you simply smile back at him.

“I guess we’ll have to wait for our next round of punishment,” you say, your voice lighter than you expected. “But in the meantime, drinks?”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #marauders #hp marauders #marauder fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #x reader #reader insert #x female reader #x fem!reader #female reader

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the-oblivious-writer · 2 months ago

Text

Let the Light In |8|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Eight: Old Temptations

Summary: After hiding yourself away for weeks, Anika and Henry get you to return to the living. While you're at the party they bring you to, you run into Tara before a third-party runs into your fists.

Warning(s): Swearing, fighting - whoop whoop!! that's the sound, social interactions, and drinking (underage)

Notes: I made at least ten drafts, combined them, adjusted, and here is the final product. This is more of an R focused chapter, so you'll start to see more of the internal struggles she goes through along with a special guest start. As always, I hope you enjoy

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The incandescent lights of Henry's apartment building buzz overhead as you follow him and Anika up the concrete stairs. Your boots echo against each step, creating a hollow rhythm that matches your reluctant heartbeat. You've been dreading this party all week, but your friends had worn you down with their relentless enthusiasm and pointed comments about your "hermit tendencies."

"I still can't believe you actually agreed to come," Henry says over his shoulder, his keys jingling as he searches for the right one. "Usually getting you out after exams is like trying to coax a cat into taking a bath."

"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf," you mutter, knowing full well it's a lie. The only reason you'd agreed was because they'd caught you in a moment of weakness—specifically, when you were coming down from a three-day study binge and your defenses were too low to properly deflect their persistent pestering.

Anika snorts, adjusting her glittering top that catches the harsh hallway light. "Right. And I'm going to start watching silent films with you."

"Charlie Chaplin’s a classic," you defend, following them into Henry's apartment. The familiar scent of his signature sandalwood candles hits you immediately.

"Whatever you say, grandma," Henry teases, disappearing into his bedroom. You can hear him rummaging around, probably looking for whatever he plans to wear tonight.

You collapse onto his worn leather couch, the same one he'd rescued from a curb three years ago. Despite its questionable origins, it's the most comfortable piece of furniture you've ever encountered. Maybe if you sink deep enough into it, they'll forget you're here and leave without you.

Anika perches on the arm of the couch, already touching up her makeup in a compact mirror. "You know," she starts, and you recognize that tone—it's the one she uses when she's about to say something she thinks you won't like. "Tara might be there tonight."

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. "And why would I care about that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Anika draws out the words, applying another coat of mascara with practiced precision. "Maybe because you've been moping around ever since your little disappearing act?"

"I haven't been moping," you protest, but even you can hear how weak it sounds. "I've been studying. There's a difference."

"Right," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. The past few weeks have been a blur of textbooks, coffee, and a blend of mathematical formulas and historical documentations. You'd thrown yourself into exam preparation with perhaps more vigor than strictly necessary, but that was just your way of dealing with stress.

It definitely had nothing to do with how you'd ignored her texts afterward.

Dork (3:47 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I can't make it tonight

Tara (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) oh. lemme knw when u can reschedule

Dork (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Tara, don't do that

Tara (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) dont wat????

Dork (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I know what 'oh' means

Tara (3:50 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) well then eblighten me cuz idk what ur ymmaring abt

Dork (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Enlighten/*yammering, and never mind

Tara (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) 🤓 is u fr

Dork (3:52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Excuse me?

Tara (3: 52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) i have to explain??? but i thougt u were all knowing!

Dork (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Thought. I know you know how to spell, you're just reckless with a keyboard

Tara (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) my question is when did i ask

Dork (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) That's an improvement

Tara (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) stfup.

Henry emerges from his bedroom, now wearing a fitted crop-top that every guy wore in the 80’s. "Are we talking about the Tara situation?"

"There is no 'Tara situation,'" you insist, making air quotes with your fingers. "Can we please just go to this party so I can suffer through it and get back to my peaceful, drama-free existence?"

"Drama-free?" Henry laughs, grabbing his keys. "Is that what we're calling your one-person production of 'Hamlet' these last eighteen years?"

You bite your thumb at him, but there's no real heat behind it. These are your best friends, after all, and you know their teasing comes from a place of love. Even if they're being particularly annoying about it tonight.

The drive to the party is a blur of street lights and the sound of Abbey Road. You're behind the wheel of your beloved '70 Ford Maverick, a car that Henry constantly ridicules. Anika claims the passenger seat, still fussing with her makeup, while Henry sprawls in the back, giving you directions that are more confusing than helpful.

"No, no, turn left at the next—wait, I meant right. My other left."

"Your other left?" you deadpan, making the turn anyway. "How many lefts do you have?"

"Don't sass the navigator," he replies primly. "Oh, there it is! The house with all the cars out front."

You pull up to the curb about half a block away, already feeling your anxiety spike at the sight of the crowded frat house. Music pulses from within, so loud you can feel it in your chest even from here. People mill about on the front lawn, red cups in hand, their laughter carrying through the night air.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this?" you ask, killing the engine but making no move to get out of the car.

Anika turns to you, her expression softening slightly. "Because Henry threatened to sing the entire soundtrack of 'Cats' outside your bedroom door if you didn't come."

"That was a low blow," you mutter, finally unbuckling your seatbelt. "You know how much I hate that musical."

"Desperate times," Henry says cheerfully, already out of the car and bouncing on his heels with excitement. "Come on, let's go find out what kinds of terrible decisions we can make tonight!"

You follow your friends up the walkway, trying to ignore the way your palms are already sweating. The last party you'd attended had been... well, it had been a week before your self-imposed exile. The night Tara had looked at you with those impossibly dark eyes and asked if you wanted to get some air, and you'd panicked and made up an excuse about needing to check on your nonexistent fish.

The front door is already open, music and voices spilling out into the night. As soon as you cross the threshold, you're hit with a wall of sensory input that makes your head spin. The air is thick with artificial fog from a machine hidden somewhere in the corner, mixed with the distinctive scent of cheap beer and various perfumes and colognes. Multi-colored lights pulse in time with the music, turning everything into a strobing dreamscape and your nightmare.

Henry guides you through the crowd with a gentle hand on your back, navigating the sea of bodies with practiced ease. You catch glimpses of familiar faces as you pass. They all blur together in the dim light, becoming a kaleidoscope of features that makes your head swim.

You end up at yet another worn leather couch that's seen better days, probably around the same era as your car. Henry gestures for you to sit, and you do, grateful for something solid beneath you. The cushions seem to want to swallow you whole, and for once, you don't fight it.

"I'll get us drinks!" Henry shouts over the music, already backing away into the crowd. "Don't move!"

Anika lingers for a moment, looking torn between staying with you and pursuing whatever—or whoever—has caught her attention across the room. You wave her off with a weak smile. "Go. I'll be fine right here, becoming one with the furniture."

She hesitates another second before grinning. "Try to have some fun, okay? And text me if you need an escape plan." Then she's gone, disappearing into the crowd with the grace of Mindy, someone who actually enjoys these sorts of gatherings.

Left alone, you let yourself sink deeper into the couch, watching the party unfold around you. A group of girls near the makeshift dance floor are attempting some sort of choreographed routine, though the alcohol in their systems is making it more comedic than coordinated. Two guys are engaged in what appears to be an intense debate about pizza toppings, their gestures becoming more animated with each passing second.

The bass line of whatever song is playing thrums through your body, making your bones vibrate in a way that's not entirely unpleasant. You find yourself timing your breathing to it, using it as an anchor in the chaos. This isn't so bad, you think. You can handle this. It's just a few hours, and then you can go home and binge-watch your comfort shows until the sun comes up.

"Y/L/N special!" Henry's voice breaks through your thoughts as he returns, thrusting a red solo cup into your hands. The liquid inside is an alarming shade of orange that definitely doesn't occur in nature.

You eye it suspiciously. "What exactly makes it a ‘Y/L/N special'?"

"The fact that it's specifically designed for the same people who despise candy unless it's 99% cacao," he explains, dropping onto the couch beside you with his own drink—something amber-colored that you assume is actually beer.

"That's... oddly thoughtful," you admit, taking a tentative sip. It tastes like water that’s had lemons and limes soak in it for months, the kick makes your tongue tingle. "And dangerous."

"Just pace yourself," he advises, watching as more people filter into the already crowded space. "Oh hey, isn't that Charlotte?"

You follow his gaze to see Charlotte, the person you ended things with through a text message. You try to hide behind the red plastic in your hand as you sip, but you nearly spill your bitter bread water all over yourself when she notices you. You can tell it caught her off guard; her eyes slightly widened and she took an uncomfortably long pause mid-sentence. This pause caused her friends to look over which only made things even more awkward—at least for you. After shooting daggers at you and one of them flipping you off, they linked elbows with Charlotte and took her to a different room.

You know you deserved it.

Henry sucked his teeth. “Ouch. Casanova strikes again,” he chuckled with amusement.

“Ugh,” you express in response to the name for you before downing the last of the liquid in your cup. “I’m out. I’m gonna get one more.”

One drink turns into two, two turns into three, and somewhere during your debate with Henry over which Ninja Turtle’s the best one, you’re interrupted by a pair of familiar dark brown eyes meeting yours. Your attention always seemed to gravitate towards Tara Carpenter.

You momentarily pause your expression of admiration for Leonardo, peeking over Henry’s shoulder to give Tara a downwards smile paired with a finger wave. She rolls her eyes and returns your finger wave in a mocking gesture. After Henry realizes what’s grabbed your attention, he makes an excuse to walk away.

You're nursing your fifth orange drink when she materializes beside you, seemingly out of thin air. "Seriously?" The word drips with exasperation. "You're actually hiding behind Henry?"

"I'm not hiding," you protest, pulling yourself up to what you hope is a dignified height. "I'm strategically positioning myself for optimal social avoidance."

Tara snorts—an inelegant sound that somehow makes her more endearing. "Is that what we're calling it?"

The space between you crackles with a tension that's part irritation, part something else entirely.

"I could ask you the same thing," you counter with a crack in your voice. Tara notices this and slightly raises an eyebrow while giving you a once-over. "Pretty sure you've been standing in the exact same spot for the last twenty minutes."

Her eyes narrow. "I'm observing."

"Stalking," you correct automatically.

"Strategically positioning myself," she throws your earlier words back at you, and there's a glint in her eye that makes your breath catch.

For a moment, you felt uncharacteristically at ease in such a setting—when you catch a fragment of a conversation that makes your blood run cold.

“—Carpenter's got a mouth on her that could��"

The words slice through your alcohol-induced haze like a knife. Your head whips around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash, searching for the source of the comment. Two guys are leaning against the wall near the stairs, one of them making crude gestures as he continues to make vile comments about Tara.

The pleasant warmth in your system transforms instantly into liquid fire. You recognize one of them—Marcus Wheeler from your Calculus class, the one who always makes inappropriate comments during lectures and thinks he's God's gift to mathematics. The other is unfamiliar, but the way he's laughing and encouraging Marcus makes your skin crawl.

Your muscles tense. Tara notices immediately. "Don't," she warns, a single word packed with more meaning than should be possible.

But you're already moving, your body acting before your brain can fully process the decision.

Your fist connects with his jaw before you even realize you've thrown the punch. There's a satisfying crack that you feel more than hear, followed by a burst of pain across your knuckles that you're too angry to properly register. The pain sends a rush through you, pushes you, tempts you for more.

Marcus staggers back, both surprised and hurt, but recovers quickly. He lunges for you, but your muscle memory kicks in. You sidestep, using his momentum against him, and somehow you end up on top of him, getting in another solid hit before strong hands pull you away.

The world comes rushing back all at once. The music has stopped, replaced by the murmur of shocked voices and the ringing in your ears. Everyone is staring at you, their faces a blur of surprise and judgment. Marcus is on the ground, blood trickling from his split lip, and presumably broken nose, looking at you with a mixture of rage, disbelief, and fear.

Your chest feels too tight, like someone's wrapped steel bands around your ribcage and is slowly tightening them. The weight of what you've just done crashes over you like a wave, threatening to pull you under. You need to get out—now.

You shoulder your way through the crowd, ignoring Henry calling your name, ignoring the whispers that follow in your wake. Someone tries to grab your arm, but you shake them off, focused solely on reaching the door. The cool night air hits your face like a slap when you finally burst outside, but you keep walking, your hands shaking as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

The crisp winter air hits you like a slap when you stumble outside, your breath forming small clouds in the freezing night.

“Wait!”

When did she get here?

"Let me see," Tara's voice cuts through your alcohol-induced haze, her hand reaching for yours with a familiarity that makes your head spin—or maybe you've had one too many of those orange drinks.

You thrust your hand toward her dramatically, wincing as the movement sends a spike of pain through your bruised knuckles.

"I totally got that incel good," you slur, a giggle bubbling up from somewhere deep and slightly unhinged. The ice beneath your feet seems to shimmer with your triumph.

Tara's fingers hover just above your hand, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from her skin. "You're going to need ice for that," she says, her tone caught between exasperation and something else—something softer.

"Ice, huh?" You look down at the ground, the irony not lost on you.

With exaggerated precision, you bend down and scoop up a handful of snow, pressing it against your knuckles. The cold bites, but it's a welcome contrast to the burning anger and alcohol still coursing through your system.

"This works, right?" You look up at her, your eyes wide and slightly unfocused. The world tilts slightly, but Tara remains steady—an anchor in your spinning vision.

Something flickers in her eyes—amusement, maybe. "You're something else," she mutters, but there's no real bite to the words.

Emboldened by alcohol and adrenaline, you lean in closer. The words tumble out before you can stop them. "So… I never did get an answer to that proposal."

Tara goes very still. A smile begins to form, tentative and fragile as first light.

She chuckles at your remark before shaking her head and scoffing to herself. "Sometimes I just don't get you," she says with a smile still etched on her face, but there's more complexity in those words than simple dismissal as she stares back into your eyes.

Confusion must show on your face because she looks away, the streetlight catching the curve of her cheek, the set of her jaw. You didn’t know what else to say so you just said the first thing that came to mind.

“Merry birthday, Tar,” you said.

She’s taken aback by this. She didn’t know what to say, yet still opened her mouth to respond. Maybe something would come to her, but before anything did—

"There you are!" Anika's voice cuts through the moment like a knife. Your car pulls up to the curb, engine running warm against the freezing air. "We need to get out of here before that guy calls the cops."

The moment dissolves. Tara takes a step back, creating distance that feels more emotional than physical. You're left standing there, snow melting between your fingers, the taste of unresolved everything burning at the back of your throat.

As you climb into the passenger seat, you catch one last glimpse of her in the side mirror—a silhouette, perfectly still and impossibly distant.

—

The drive home is mostly silent, broken only by the occasional sigh from Anika and the gentle humming of your car's engine. Your knuckles throb in time with your heartbeat, a steady reminder of your momentary loss of control. The adrenaline is wearing off now, replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and alcohol-induced wooziness that makes you slouch lower in your seat.

"You know," Anika finally says as she pulls into your shared apartment complex, "when I said you needed to be more social, starting another fight wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

You grunt in response, too busy focusing on the way the world is tilting slightly to form actual words. The drinks are hitting harder now that the excitement is over, making everything feel soft around the edges.

"Use your words," she chides, killing the engine.

"Words are for people who don't punch assholes at parties," you mumble, fumbling with your seatbelt. The simple mechanism seems impossibly complex right now.

Anika reaches over to help you, her movements gentle despite her exasperated tone. "Come on, Rocky Balboa. Let's get you inside."

Getting up the stairs to your second-floor apartment proves to be an adventure. You insist you can do it yourself, but after the third time you miss a step, Anika wraps an arm around your waist and practically drags you up.

"I can walk," you protest, even as you lean heavily against her.

"Sure you can. Just like you can make rational decisions at parties, right?"

You attempt to glare at her, but the effect is somewhat ruined when you stumble over your own feet. "He deserved it."

"Oh, I'm not arguing that point," Anika says, fishing her keys out of her purse while still supporting most of your weight. "Marcus Wheeler is definitely in the running for Biggest Douchebag of the Year. But maybe next time we could handle it without violence? You know, like adults?"

"Adulting is overrated," you declare as she manages to get the door open. "If I was a kid, I could just pull Tara's pigtails or something."

Anika steers you toward the kitchen, depositing you none too gently into one of the mismatched chairs around your small table. "Okay, first of all, that's not the approach to crushing on someone that you think it is. Second, stay put while I get the first aid kit."

You slump forward, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the table. "Not crushing," you mumble into the wood. "Just... emotionally compromised."

"Right," Anika calls from the bathroom, where you can hear her rummaging through cabinets. "And I'm just 'casually interested' in my hot girlfriend."

"That's different," you argue, lifting your head slightly. "You two are together. You’re attached to the hip—you don’t hide from each other."

"Ha! So you admit you were hiding!"

You let your head thunk back down onto the table. "I admit nothing. I was studying. Very intensely. In locations where certain people were statistically unlikely to appear."

Anika returns with the first aid kit and a bag of frozen peas, setting both on the table. "Sit up, you disaster. Let me see your hand."

You comply with a dramatic sigh, straightening in your chair and holding out your injured hand. Your knuckles are already starting to bruise, spots of purple blooming across the skin. There are a few small cuts, probably from where you caught Marcus's teeth.

"This might sting," Anika warns before dabbing at the cuts with an alcohol wipe. You hiss through your teeth but don't pull away. "So," she continues, her tone deceptively casual, "want to talk about what really happened back there?"

"Not particularly," you mutter, watching as she carefully cleans each cut. "Can we just chalk it up to temporary insanity and move on?"

"You punched a guy for talking shit about Tara." She applies antibiotic ointment with practiced efficiency. "That's not temporary insanity. That's feelings."

You try to pull your hand away, but she holds firm. "It's not— I just— He was being gross!"

"Mhmm." She wraps your knuckles in gauze with precise movements. "And the fact that it was about Tara specifically had nothing to do with your reaction?"

"I would have done the same for anyone," you insist, even though you both know it's a lie. "It's about basic human decency."

"Right. Basic human decency. That's why you've been moping around our apartment for two weeks, taking different routes, and muttering under your breath when you think I can't hear you."

Before you can form a suitably indignant response, your phone buzzes. Henry's face appears on the screen, caught mid-laugh at some long-ago hangout.

You put the call on speaker, feeling too exhausted to hold the phone. Henry's excited voice crackles through, bursting with energy.

"Holy shit! Are you okay? That was the most badass thing I've ever seen in my life!"

"I'm fine," you mutter, wincing as Anika presses a bag of frozen peas against your bruised knuckles. "Ow! Except for my so-called best friend trying to give me frostbite."

Anika's tone is no-nonsense. "Keep the ice on, or your hand will swell up like a balloon."

Henry can barely contain his excitement. "You should have seen Marcus's face after you left. He was completely shaken. I don't think anyone's ever stood up to him like that before."

You groan, tilting your head back. "Great. Now I'll be known as the crazy chick who starts fights at parties. That'll look amazing on my resume."

"Are you kidding? You're going to be a legend!" Henry starts, then suddenly there's a scuffle in the background.

"Am I on speaker?" you ask, suspicion rising in your voice.

"No!" Henry says simultaneously with another voice declaring, "Yes!"

You recognize the second voice immediately. "Henry James Martinez," you say, using his full name—knowing how much he hates it—"Are you and Tony back together?"

"No!" Henry protests. "His place flooded, and he needed a place to stay!"

"Sure thing, Hef," you chuckle, catching Anika's amused smile.

Tony's cheerful voice joins the conversation. "Hey, heard you knocked some douche on his ass for talking shit about your girlfriend. Nicely done."

"She's not my girlfriend," you respond quickly.

Henry can't resist. "Define girlfriend."

You're ready with a comeback. "Define sharing a living space with—"

"Uh oh, bad connection," Henry interrupts, and suddenly the line goes dead. Anika bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna get you some aspirin,” Anika offered, patting your shoulder as she passed. “But just so you know that whole ‘emotionally compromised’ thing? Yeah, that’s basically the definition of crushing.”

You make an incoherent noise of protest into the table.

"Oh, and by the way," Anika calls from the kitchen, "you're totally teaching me that right hook tomorrow. After your hangover wears off, of course."

You lift your head just enough to deadpan at her.

"Love you too, champ. Now take your aspirin and go to bed before you fall asleep on the table. Again."

Not long after she went to her room, you stumble into the bathroom, hand throbbing and head spinning—the former a reminder of the night’s events. The light is harsh against your alcohol-fogged brain. The tile floor is cold beneath your bare feet as you stumble to the sink, turning on the water and splashing your face.

When you look up, he's there.

Your Uncle's bloody corpse stands behind you in the reflection, that familiar crooked smile that's always been more predatory than comforting. His appearance is exactly as you remember from old photographs—that slightly manic glint in his eye, the way he holds himself like violence is always just beneath the surface.

"Killer punch," he says, leaning against the bathroom wall. No greeting, no preamble. Just direct observation.

You don't jump but roll your eyes. "Go away," you mutter, gripping the sink's edge.

He chuckles—a sound that's more bark than laugh. "I saw myself in you tonight. That rage? That precise moment of calculated violence? Pure genetics that chose you."

"I'm nothing like you," you snap, turning to face him directly. The bathroom suddenly feels smaller.

He takes a step closer. "Oh, but you are. That moment when you heard those guys talking about your girl? That split second before the punch? That wasn't just anger. That was hunting instinct."

You close your eyes, trying to block him out. "I'm not a killer. I'm not you."

"Not yet," he says, and there's something almost proud in his voice. "But you've got the potential. I saw how you moved. How you calculated. How you knew exactly where to hit to cause maximum impact."

"My dad’s a professional pig," you counter. "It’s not like I attended murder school."

His laugh is sharp, brittle. "Call it what you want. But we both know there's something inside you. Something sharp. Something waiting."

The argument feels familiar—like every nightmare, every family gathering where his memory haunted the edges of conversation, their fear of the parallels you both held. You're tired of it. Tired of him.

"I'm going to bed," you declare, pushing past his spectral form.

He doesn't disappear immediately. Instead, his voice follows you. "We're not so different, you and me."

You pause at the doorway, not turning around, as your hand tightly grips the edges of the doorframe. "We're nothing alike."

The silence that follows is answer enough.

As you crawl back into bed, the room feels normal again—just another night, just another internal argument with a ghost who refuses to stay buried.

But somewhere in the darkness, you can still feel him watching. Waiting.

-----------

A/N:

gobble, gobble

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega #let the light in au

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solar4seekstron · 2 months ago

Text

Before and So Forth Chapter Six: Megatronus

Transformers One!Megatronus x Cybertronian!GN!Reader

Solars Indie Series

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight

Introduction Indie Series

Contents: 16+

TW/Tags: Pretty normal chapter, more drama with the harem, Vector knows something is up, Megatronus goes into boyfriend mode, Reader is growing distant from Starscream and Soundwave that’s why reader is acting the way they do with the two, this chapter is really just to build up the next and the 8th chapter, the ending was a pain to figure out my god. That should be all.

You couldn’t sleep that night. Both full of excitement and fear. Sentinels words still looming over you.

But soon it will be the last day of your courtship. Even though that means that your relationship might change with the other bots…Primus why couldn’t you be born as a minicon and not fall in love with anyone?

When the lights from your window hits your optics. You realize you’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours.

And so you sat up, grabbing some energon, and making your way to the tower. You knew you had training with Megatronus today. And then meet up for another meeting with Starscreams team.

You were dreading it honestly.

As soon as you got to the tower, soon opening the front door after the guards accepted you in. You were surprised to to Solus and Vector Prime speaking amongst theirselves as a few guards stand by.

You started to worry. Why would the primes be near the entrance like this?

You descided to take a different path down the hall.

You cant deal with the primes right now. As you continue to walk you’d soon feel a larger cervo on your shoulder.

You stopped.

Turning your helm to see its vector prime. You soon spoke. Surprised he stopped you as he had a smile. “M-my Prime.”

”Young Y/N. Do you mind if I have a chat with you. Alone at my training quarters?”

You tried to hold back a gulp as you slowly nod. “Not at all My Prime.” You responded flawlessly as his grin only grew.

You’d follow him to his training quarters. Wondering what he cold be needing you for.

You both soon made it to the room. He opened the door and allowed you in first as he held open the door.

Once inside, he closed the door and you could hear the locks behind you. You turned around and he just stared down at you.

Pulling out his swords.

Your guard was already up. But now it’s spiraling to a high. You backed up. Your cervos already on the handles of your swords as you looked at him.

”Now now. I just wish to practice your sword training.” He starts to walk tot eh side. About to walk circles around you.

“I’m honestly ashamed I didn’t see a proper as well as a sword fighter alongside me and very few others.”

He’d continue as you watch him. Your cervos remaining on the handle of your swords as he kept speakin. Probably trying to catch you off guard.

“Ever since the start of this week. My dear brother Megatron has been..Distracted. I thought it could be Solus not making up her damn mind about her feelings with Megatron and a few other primes….But now I see why.”

He stopped behind you. His swords on both sides of you. You glanced at one of them. Seeing your own reflection as well as him looking down at you.

”Tell me.” His other sword was now under your chin. Making you look up a bit as the other went to your stomach. Going to your lower stomach. You stood still as he contnued to speak.

”If I were to add you to m team. My training sessions instead. Would Megatron not miss you so much? I’ve seen your records. But. I’m not that too impressed with that…scar.” His sword by your helm now closer to the side of the scar. Gently gracing it with the side of the sword.

Very slowly you pulled your swords forward a little as he spoke once more.

”If you can somehow defeat me. Then I wont remove you. I just cant start having the strongest primes in our rank be distracted now. Should we?…….So…what will it be?”

You were fas to move. Pulling out both swords and moving your helm and body just right from his swords.

Slashing at his swords and kicking at his lower stomach. You then had to land on your cervos and jump back to your pedes.

Grabbing your swords off the ground.

Soon in your battle stance as you stared at him. He then stood up fast. He looked almost surprised as he stared down at you. You having one sword infront of you and the other behind you.

Vector then spinned his swords a couple times before moving forward for the first attack. You were fast to block his attack with your swords. You both staring at each other as you kept your grip.

“Already with one of your Primes? Guess I invoked you well little one.”

You two kept at it. You mostly dodging his advances of cutting you while you were able to put in a few good cuts.

At one point you threw your swords over him. Using your strength to grab his shoulders with your cervos. Moving your body above his then kicking him back by his chest. Landing on your pedes and picking your swords up in a fast motion. Back in your battle stance as you hear him grunt.

”A fast aren’t ya.” He looked back. You kept still. Waiting to see what he’ll do next as he picks up his sword.

You were almost out of breath. You both at this for a while as he didn’t seem to be struggling too much. But before he can do anything.

The two of you then heard the doors on the other side open. Guess he forgot to lock those.

Megatronus soon came in. You can tell even with his mask on that he was angry as he stared at the prime. You stood there. Your arms to your sides still holding your sword. Vector doing the same as he stared at Megatronus then spoke.

“You think you can try to take away one of my best soldiers without my knowledge?!”

He made his way to Vector. Passing you as you just watched. Megatronus getting into Vectors face as he spoke.

“Did Solus put you up to this?”

Vector just stared at his. Clenching the handles of his swords as you slowly put you swords back in their handle in the background.

”What has she poisoned you with to make you go after them? Tell me!”

Vector stayed quiet for a moment before casually spinning his swords.

Then putting them back in his holders. “Brother. You are distracted. I was simply just testing the distraction. I must say they are a strong worrior. So what else can it be?”

He starts walking towards you. You took a step back for a moment. Megatronus noticed and stepped between you both. Vector speaking once more.

”Oh. I see that’s how it is brother. For sham. But I suppose it makes sense.”

He walks around Megatronus. Back to you before placing his cervo on your shoulder once more. “Solus didn’t send me. But I’m sure her being worried of your “Distraction” wasn’t a coincidence. Be more careful you two. Because who knows how long this’ll last.”

He mad his way out of the room. Leaving both you and Megatronus alone. The room stays quiet. You looked down before looking back at Megatronus. Who’s cervos were clenched as he stared at the door. Before looking down at you.

Your frame soon facing him as you stared up at him. “Megatronus?”

He lets out a breath before kneeling down before you. Placing her larger cervo on your lower back and takes off his mask after setting down his spear.

His mask then coming off as his white optics look down at you. You’ll never get tired of looking at his optics. He’d then look at the door before looking back at you. He then finally spoke.

”Are you alright?” He asked. You slowly nodded before looking at the door. You’d the speak. “We should…head to training now. Right?”

He’d not That is until he gets a comm by Zeta Prime. Appearently he needs to speak with him along with the other primes. Megatronus then spoke to the comm, turning away a bit .

“I’ll be right there.”

He looks back at you. You reached a cervo to rest on his cheek. “Are you alright?”

He turns his helm and gently kisses the palm of your cervo before speaking. “My apologies sweetsaprk. I’m not sure why but I’ll look into it. It would appear that our secret wont be one of a secret for much longer. I suppose that can help with the last of our courtship.”

You let out a soft sigh and looked down. “But what if-“

He stopped you with a soft kiss. Before pulling away and speaks. “Until then. I’ll comm you. Training will have to be canceled and we’ll-“

This time he was stopped when you kisses him. Gently pulling and holding his cheeks gently. The kiss soothing and passionate. You both closing your optics as you both let out soft moans. His cervo still on your lower back. He was the one to pull away before speaking.

”Until then, Sweetsaprk.”

With that he stood up and put on his mask. And made his way out of the room.

You stayed in there for another moment…Well. You had other..”Interesting” mornings this week before this one. Which is strange now that you really think about it.

From there you made your way to the other door and unlocked it. Surprised to see Starscream on the other side. A frown on his face with optic ridges furrowe.

His cervos on his hips as he stared you down. You only looked up at him with wide optics.

”Me and You..are going. To. Have. A. Chat.”

Soon he grabbed your arm and dragged you with him. He started dragging you to his own meeting you and places you in a chair. Holding both of your arms.

Practically man handling you. You started to panick as he pulled a seat and sat in front of you. Crossing his arms as his moves a leg over the other crossing them.

He just stared down at you for a moment before speaking. “I should’ve known this was happening.”

You gulped as he continued.

“Behind everyone’s back. Behind mine! After the promise I made to you! When were you going to tell me hm? When were you going to tell me? WHEN?!”

He sat forward at the last part.

Causing you to lean back a bit. You thought. Maybe he doesn’t know the full story?

Ok just don’t overreact. This can be anything.

“Um….What did I not tell you?” Starscream looked almost like he was huffing before his optics growing a brighter red and let out a small growl.

Standing up fully and slamming his cervos on the arms of your seat as he spoke. His voice a bit louder.

”About you and your special relationship with that Prime!” He keeps staring down at you. You keep looking at him worried. He then lets out a growl. “With Zeta Prime!”

For a moment your face relaxed. Oh-

Then out of no where you started to laugh. You weren’t expecting him to say him of all primes. Starscream was still at that positio. His cervos on the arms as he leaned over you. His intake open a little as he looked at you.

His optics dim as he shows a confused expression.

You keeep laughing. You speaking inbetween. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You think me and Vector Prime?” You chuckled.

“What cause we both use swords.

Starscreams dermas had a frown as he stared at you. You’d then wipe away a tear of joy before moving under his arms as he just watched you. then standing fully straight when you got closer to the door as you spoke.

”You really thought I’d be going around with him.

You’re terrible at eavesdropping Starscream. Oh and I’m still mad at you by the way. So.” You are about to touch the button to open the door until Starscream grabbed your cervo and pulled it closer to his chest.

”Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. What where you and him speaking about?”

You’d let out an annoyed sigh as you tried to pull your cervo back. “That’s non of your business Starscream. He just needed to speak to me about my form. That’s all I’m allowed to speak about.”

You said casually to taunt him. You were able to finally pull you cervo away and walk out Starscream watching you as you walked away.

You rolled your optics as you whispered to yourself as you stomp away.

“Unbelievable.”

———————————————————————————

Later you were in the lunch room. reading a data pad about the latest events of the Quintissons. As well as a report by Rumble who has been on a few advantures.

That surprised you since you still can’t go anywhere thanks to your last mission and the scar on your cheek.

Primus it doesn’t even feel like it’s been a few days although it feels like weeks instead.

You drank some energon as you kept reading. Hearing the door open but not paying much mind. That’s when you heard someone sitting next to you. It was Frenzy. He then spoke as you heard Rumble behind you grabbing some energon. “Are you mad at Soundwave? What he do?”

You just sigh and placed the data pad down as you respond.”I am Frenzy but that’s because he wasn’t thinking straight. That’s all.”

He was silent for a moment before speaking. “It’s because he wants to frag you huh?” You choked a bit on your energon before looking back at him. He lets out a chuckle as rumble did with energon. The two starting to eat as you looked at them.

You’re not sure what to say. Returning to drinking your energon.

“He had a crush on you ever since we started working for the high guard you know. Give him a chance and just listen maybe? He’s been pretty sad since.”

You listened to him carefully. You’d sigh and stand up. “I need some air.”

”We don’t breath like organics.” The two would say.frenzy grabbing your cervo pulling you back to eat with them once more. You’d groan and sit back down.

Eating with the two as Rumble starts talking about his recent adventures.

Unknown to you Shockwave was standing at the door with a cup of energon. Walking in and sitting next to you. Rumble and Frenzy in their own conversation.

Not noticing him.

Shockwave sat there an started conversation with you. It lasting for a while. Your meeting with Starscream for another while. And it was nice…Being with them.

———————————————————————————

A few hours have went by. Still no comm by Megatronus. Shockwave had to leave to continue with his work and the cassette twin already left to Soundwave. Once alone you stood up and made your way to your meeting in Starscreams meeting room.

That went as good as you can…expect it.

Youre pretty sure Soundwave was staring you down from across the table and Starscream will glare at you with every chance. At least they’re good at not making it obvious.

You mostly just looked over data pads as you listened to Starscream yap about his plan. Knowing it wont be easy for you to go anyway.

Even though your scar is pretty healed up.

But what was the real kicker was when Soundwave kicked you at the leg. Telling you to stay. You looking at him with cervos clenched on the table as everyone else left soon out the door. Happy the 4 hour meeting was over.

And so…”Why wont you talk to us?!” Soundwave angrily asked. You responde.

”Soundwave it’s been a day. And my reasons are my own. Not yours.” Soundwave let out a growl before standing out of his seat.

His cervos against the table while Starscream stood at the head of the table.

”I am not doing this with the two of you.” You said as you stood up. “I am a grown bot and I will descide.” You say the last word a bit louder as you looked at Starscream.

Who just crossed his arms. “Maybe when this war ends. If it ever does! Now if you both will excuse me! I have to go.” Soundwave stood up and watched you before making his way to you.

But before he could grab your arm you were able to get the door to slam in his face.

You continue to walk down the hall. Primus what is up with the mechs today. You walked past a few guards. A few of them waving to you. You waving back.

But out of no where. You finally got a comm from Megatronus.

You made it to a more private room close by and closed the door. Answering the private comm. You spoke with a bit of a shaky voice.

“Hello?”

”Y/N meet me in my sleeping quarters…Tonight is the night.”

Not me giggling and kicking my feet under my desk as I type this out. I hope y’all liked this everything in here was to help out with building up the next two chapters. Also I decided on the last chapter I’ll create an alternate ending where the primes live. Lots of you have been asking for reader to live happily ever after with daddy prime.

Sorry that the ending is so weak it was killing me all day on how to end it. But I hope the rest before what somewhat enjoyable. Y’all can let me know in the comments lol. Sorry again but I hope you guys enjoyed!!!!

As always a repost is appreciated and I hope you guys have a good rest of your day!!!!

#x reader #transformers #transformers x reader #transformers one #transformers one x reader #megatronus x reader #tf megatronus #TF Before and So Forth

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cosmiclily · 15 days ago

Text

chapter four: bad decisions

wc: 2.4k

cw: mdni, suggestive, cussing.

You wake up with a pounding headache and a sour taste lingering on your tongue. Your body feels heavy, and when you try to stretch, something—or rather, someone—solid stops you. Panic sets in instantly.

God, what did I do? Did I go home with someone? Did I get kidnapped? What is going on?

Your heart races as you take in your surroundings. Relief floods you when you realize you're in your hotel room. The familiar sight of your clothes haphazardly tossed across the floor reassures you that at least you're in the right place. But the warmth next to you makes it clear you're not alone.

Slowly, you turn, dread pooling in your stomach as you brace yourself to see who—or what—is in bed with you.

A mop of black hair catches your eye.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Your brain short-circuits as you stare. You don’t know whether to feel relieved that it’s someone you know—or horrified for the exact same reason.

What the fuck is Vi doing in my bed?

And then it hits you.

Why am I naked?!

You pull the covers up to your chest, your breathing shallow as you try to piece together what happened last night. Images flash through your mind—shots with Jinx and Ekko, the dance floor, the blonde woman... Vi’s piercing gaze.

Vi stirs beside you, mumbling something incoherent as she shifts, her hand brushing against your leg. You freeze, your heart thudding so loud it feels like it might wake her up.

What the hell did I do?

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on the images from the previous night, but everything is a blur. All you get are flashes—Vi and you on the dance floor, the feel of her hand on your waist, the two of you laughing in the back of a taxi, her lips crashing into yours, the elevator ride where things got heated, her grip tightening as her hand slid lower, lower, lower into your skirt.

Was that real? Or just a dream?

Before you can unravel your fragmented memories, a knock on the door jolts you out of your spiraling thoughts. Panic flares in your chest as you scramble to wrap the blanket tightly around your body.

You tiptoe to the door, peeking through the peephole, and your stomach sinks. It’s Archie. He doesn’t look very pleased.

Of course. Perfect timing.

Taking a deep breath, you crack the door open just enough to poke your head out. “Good morning, Archie!” you whisper in your best attempt at sounding chipper, though your voice cracks halfway through. “Um, this isn’t a great moment. I’m... I’m really sorry. I’ll catch up with you soon, okay? Please don’t be mad!”

Before Archie can get a word in, you ramble through your apology and slam the door shut, leaning against it as your heart races.

From the other side of the door, you hear a muffled, “What the bloody hell—?” followed by the sound of his retreating footsteps.

You exhale, relieved he didn’t press the issue, but when you turn around, you realize Vi is now awake, sitting up in bed with a lazy smirk on her face.

“Smooth,” she says, her voice low and gravelly from sleep. “Real smooth.”

You groan, pressing your palms against your temples. “What the fuck happened last night, Violet?”

“You know as much as I do, princess,” she replies, picking up her shirt from the floor. “For all I know, you could have taken advantage of me. I don’t remember shit.”

"Stop with the jokes, this is serious. I can only remember things clearly up until that stupid purple shot Jinx gave us. Do you think your sister could have drugged us?" You ramble, walking in circles in your room, your mind racing a million miles per hour, the pounding headache making it impossible to focus.

"Wow, too many words, too soon," she says, massaging her temples. "But I don't think she drugged us. She’s a little crazy, yeah, but not a criminal. You know her better than that."

"Yeah, yeah. God, the one time I decide to let loose, I end up sleeping with you." You let out a frustrated sigh, running your hands over your face, trying to wrap your mind around everything.

"You weren't complaining last night, that’s all I have to say." Vi says with a mischievous grin before casually walking toward the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

"Oh, so you remember it, you little shit." You bang your fist lightly on the door, your voice rising in both disbelief and annoyance. You hear her laughing from the other side.

"Relax, princess," she calls back, her laughter muffled. "You’re just mad ‘cause it was fun."

You press your ear to the door, shaking your head, your chest tightening with a mix of confusion, embarrassment, and something else—something you can’t quite name. The whole situation feels like an overwhelming blur, but there’s no denying the way it all seems to linger, just beyond the edge of your memory. And God, did it feel good.

──────────────────────

The van looked like a funeral—Jinx and Ekko were sharing earbuds, Vi had a massive blue neck pillow and sunglasses on, and you looked like a zombie. Archie climbed into the van with a disappointed look on his face, his eyes scanning the group before he let out a fake cough to get your attention.

“I wanted to do this formally, with time and all that, over breakfast, but it seemed like you all had other plans,” he said, his voice gradually becoming more agitated. As he spoke, his accent thickened with each word, the tension rising in his posture. You could hear Jinx stifling her laughter from across the van, and it only made things worse.

“This small briefing will have to do,” he continued, clearly trying to regain control of the situation. "After the show yesterday, some producers called me, and we're discussing a label contract, and a single."

You blinked a few times, still trying to wake up, but the words didn’t immediately sink in. A label contract? A single? You rubbed your temples, the pounding headache from last night threatening to come back full force.

“So... you’re telling me we’re getting a record deal?” Vi mumbled, her voice muffled by the neck pillow, still clearly not fully awake.

“There are a couple of labels interested in you,” Archie replied, his tone more serious now. “So we’ll talk about this properly when we’re back home. But yes. So, you better get your pens ready and use your explosive emotions to work.” He said the last part while looking directly at Vi, his expression pointed.

Vi grunted in response, but otherwise, didn’t offer much. The drive to the airport was uneventful, the hum of the tires on the road providing a constant background as your mind started to wander. Many ideas popped into your head—some excited, others hesitant—but through it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were on the edge of something big.

You allowed yourself to dream a little, imagining the potential of the label deal, the single that could launch everything you’d ever wanted. But just as quickly, your thoughts kept drifting back to last night. You drank water, hoping it might ease the lingering effects of the night before, and slowly, the memories started coming back—bit by bit.

You remembered how, after the shot, Violet pulled you onto the dance floor. The look on her face that you couldn’t decipher long gone, taking place for one that was a mix of something intense and wild. Then, as the music played, you talked, and after a particularly heated song, you kissed her. It was the best kiss you’d ever received—urgent, electrifying, and full of something unspoken. In the background, you could hear Jinx’s laughter.

“At least she’s not thinking about the one who shouldn’t be named,” Jinx teased between giggles.

After that, it was all a blur of heat and excitement. You were the one who asked Vi if she wanted to come back to the hotel. You initiated the makeout session in the backseat of the taxi—poor taxi driver, you thought, hoping you’d left him a generous tip for having to endure that. And when you reached the hotel, you were the one who made the first move, sliding your hands where they probably shouldn’t have been in the elevator.

You leaned your head back against the seat, your stomach twisting into knots as the weight of everything finally hit you.

What are we going to do about last night?

You really needed to talk to Violet. You had to. But at the same time, you weren’t sure what to say or how to approach it without everything feeling like a mess. Was it just another reckless night? Or something more?

You weren’t interested in any type of relationship, especially not with someone who had just come out of a long-term one. Vi was still getting over Caitlyn, and you had seen the way she still looked at the mention of her—torn between letting go and holding on. The last thing you wanted was to be someone’s rebound, or worse, complicate things further. You had your own emotional baggage to deal with, and you didn’t need to add another layer to it.

──────────────────────

You made sure to share a seat on the plane with Vi, it was a short flight but it was enough time to talk about what last night had meant.

“So… should we talk about last night or what?” You whisper to her, so no one else would hear.

She looked at you over her sunglasses. “What is there to talk about? We fucked, what’s the big deal?”

Your cheeks flushed and you weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or rage. “The big deal is that this” you say pointing between the two of you “can become very complicated, very fast, and we have a career on the line.”

“Listen, princess, if it’s that complicated for you, we can pretend it never happened, you don’t talk about it, i don’t talk about it and what’s done is done. I don’t think Ekko nor Jinx remember that we left together, and if they do they won’t mention it.”

Vi’s nonchalant response sent a wave of irritation through you, but there was something else, too—disappointment, maybe? You weren’t even sure why it stung so much. Her ability to brush things off so easily made you question whether last night meant anything to her at all.

Leaning in closer, you lowered your voice. “You don’t get it, Vi. It’s not just about us. It’s about the band, the dynamic, the fact that if this gets messy, it could ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

She sighed, finally pushing her sunglasses onto her head and meeting your gaze. Her piercing eyes carried an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “Okay, fine. I get it. You’re worried. But, honestly? Nothing’s gonna get messy unless you make it messy. You’re the one overthinking this.”

You felt your jaw clench. “Overthinking? I’m trying to be an adult here, Vi. I’m not saying last night wasn’t… fun, but—”

She cut you off with a smirk that both infuriated and unnerved you. “Fun. Sure, we’ll call it that.”

Your glare sharpened, the frustration bubbling over. “Can you be serious for one second? I’m trying to have a real conversation here.”

Vi leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms as her smirk faded. Her voice was softer this time, more measured. “Alright. If you want to talk about it, then let’s talk. Last night was... unexpected, yeah. But it doesn’t have to mean anything unless we decide it does. If you want to chalk it up to a drunken mistake, fine. I won’t hold it against you.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Vi,” you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, “I don’t think it was a mistake. I don’t… regret it.” Her eyes widened slightly, and she tilted her head as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. “But I also know we can’t afford to let this become a problem. The band, the label—there’s too much at stake.”

Vi was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she let out a dry chuckle, running a hand through her hair. “You’re such a perfectionist, you know that? Always worrying about the ‘big picture.’ Sometimes, you just gotta live a little.”

“Living a little is what got us into this mess,” you shot back, though your voice had lost its edge.

“Fine,” she said, her tone light but carrying a weight that wasn’t lost on you. “We’ll keep it professional. I promise.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the pit forming in your stomach. Something about the way she said it didn’t sit right, as if her words carried an unspoken challenge.

The rest of the flight passed in strained silence, though Vi’s presence next to you was impossible to ignore. Every accidental brush of her arm against yours sent a ripple through your entire body. You tried to distract yourself with thoughts of the future—the meeting with the label, the potential single, the career you’d spent years chasing. But no matter how hard you tried to push forward, your mind kept circling back to her.

The memories hit you in waves, sharp and vivid. Vi’s arm brushed yours, and suddenly you were back in the elevator, her hands gripping your arms as you kissed your way down her neck. The low, guttural sound she made when you found her pulse point echoed in your mind, impossible to shake. You heard her sigh in frustration as she struggled with a packet of peanuts, and your brain betrayed you with the memory of her other frustrated sounds—breathless and needy, muffled against your skin as she —

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you desperately tried to stay grounded. You were going insane. How were you supposed to keep this professional when every single part of her was burned into your mind? The way she looked at you last night, the feel of her hands on your skin, the taste of her lips—it was all too much.

The truth was unavoidable. You were completely, hopelessly in trouble. And if Vi noticed your internal struggle, she didn’t show it. She just sat there, casually munching on her peanuts, completely at ease while you felt like you were unraveling.

Being professional was already proving to be far more difficult than you had anticipated.

──────────────────────

masterlist - chapter five

notes: my birthday was yesterday, officially 22!! anyways, here is a new chapter, there isn’t anything explicit (but it will come!!!) but it’s a kickstart to stir things 😋

taglist: @saturnhas82moons @baylegend6 @oidloid @vaebear @wicked-laugh

#vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane #vi arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #lily writes

137 notes · View notes

enhastars · 24 days ago

Text

THE RED ROOM જ⁀➴ CHAPTER TWO

AT THE RESTAURANT, OCT 13TH

Y/N hadn’t expected to see so many people in line, waiting to dine in for breakfast when she arrived at the restaurant the next morning. She had barely slept the night before, her nerves keeping her awake, and even now her palms were slick with sweat. She wiped them hastily on her dress shirt before walking past the waiting crowd, a growing sense of existential dread tightening in her stomach. With how out of it she’d been last night, she hadn’t considered that her new coworkers might not like her. What if they tried to get her fired?

No, that was ridiculous. This was her first job, after all—surely they’d take pity on her.

Most of the people in the lobby bustling around seemed like ordinary travelers, much like herself. Suitcases clustered near the glass revolving doors, and sunburned children darted between harried parents. Y/N had arrived surprisingly early, a small victory considering she was running on four hours of sleep and two shots of espresso. The wealthy guests probably attended evening events; no one here seemed particularly out of the ordinary.

She shuddered at the thought of serving those intimidating people, though she wasn’t planning to be the center of attention—like a host might be.

Before she could step into the dining area, a stranger stopped her and smiled.

"Hey! You must be the new starter?"

Y/N blinked, momentarily startled by the voice cutting through her thoughts. The man standing before her had a kind smile, the sort that seemed to radiate warmth. It caught her off guard, making her wonder if she was just imagining the friendliness. Maybe it was her nerves playing tricks on her again.

His neatly parted black hair gleamed under the kitchen's fluorescent lights, and his brown eyes had a soft, almost feline-like quality. She felt her pulse quicken—how was everyone here so intimidatingly put together?

"That’s me," Y/N replied, willing her voice to stay steady. She forced a small smile, hoping it hid how overwhelmed she felt.

“Nice to meet you. It’s been a while since we got a new addition to the crew—especially a girl.”

The man’s voice was light yet confident, as if he was used to welcoming newcomers like her. Y/N’s gaze flicked to the polished name tag pinned neatly to his shirt: Yang. Family name, she noted.

“Thank you, Mr. Yang,” she replied, forcing her voice to steady despite the faint waver she could hear.

For a second, his expression froze in mild surprise, as though he wasn’t accustomed to such formality. Then his lips quirked into an amused grin, and he rubbed his forehead with his palm.

“Just Jungwon is fine,” he said with a short laugh. “We’re probably around the same age anyway.”

Jungwon extended his hand, and Y/N hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it. His grip was firm, his fingers rough and calloused—an undeniable testament to long hours spent in a demanding industry. Despite his easy demeanor, the handshake reminded her that this man wasn’t someone to underestimate.

“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. It’s really early,” he added with a slightly sheepish tilt of his head.

Y/N managed a small smile as he handed her the menu he’d been holding. She almost stumbled under its weight; it was larger than she’d anticipated, bound with a thick black fabric that was soft but sturdy. Gold letters gleamed under the overhead lights, spelling out God's Menu in elegant script. The name piqued her curiosity, but she tucked the thought away for later.

“Come on, let’s introduce you to the rest of the crew,” Jungwon said, motioning for her to follow. He adjusted a gold-encrusted belt over his apron with a practiced motion before heading toward the dining area.

As Y/N trailed after him, she found herself taking in the grandeur of her surroundings. The dining room was more opulent than anything she’d ever seen—like something pulled straight from a period drama. Ornate chandeliers hung from the soaring ceilings, their golden light casting a warm glow across the room. Maroon curtains framed every window, their thick folds cascading down to the floor like velvet waterfalls. Towering black marble columns lined the space, their glossy surfaces so polished they reflected the chandeliers’ light.

She trailed her fingers along the edge of a nearby table as they passed, the linen smooth and cool beneath her touch. Across the room, a stage loomed in the distance, its polished wood floor gleaming under subtle spotlights. She could almost imagine it coming alive during an evening performance, filled with laughter or music.

It was breathtaking—every detail deliberate yet effortless.

Y/N’s stomach fluttered as she adjusted the menu in her hands, trying to steady her breathing. How could she possibly fit in here?

“Sunoo, for the last time, I’m not doing that!”

The sudden shout jolted Y/N from her thoughts. She flinched, the clang of metal ringing out a moment later. Her eyes darted toward Jungwon, who didn’t so much as bat an eye. He pushed open a set of heavy steel doors leading into the kitchen.

“Listen, I’m just spitballing here!” a voice whined as they stepped inside.

Y/N blinked, her eyes widening at the chaos unfolding before her. A blonde man—presumably Sunoo—was practically dancing out of the way of a ladle hurtling through the air. The weapon’s sender stood across the kitchen island: a man with crimson-colored hair and piercing eyes. Even from a distance, his sharp gaze made her want to shrink into herself.

The two men were dressed in aprons, but each was unique—Sunoo’s was embroidered with intricate floral patterns, while the other’s bore minimalist geometric shapes. As Y/N glanced around, she noticed no two uniforms looked alike. It was a small detail, but it only added to the surreal atmosphere of the place.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jungwon demanded, exasperation heavy in his tone.

“Wonnie, Heeseung’s being an asshole!” Sunoo called out, his voice dripping with mock indignation.

“Can you tell this son of a bitch to mind his own business?” Heeseung retorted, rolling his eyes.

Sunoo gasped, his expression the picture of betrayal, before reaching for a stray chopstick to retaliate.

“Woah, woah, calm down,” Jungwon interrupted, snatching the chopstick out of Sunoo’s hand before it could escalate further. “You guys are making this place look like a zoo in front of the poor new girl.”

At Jungown’s words, both Sunoo and Heeseung froze mid-motion, their eyes snapping toward Y/N. They looked at her incredulously, as if they hadn't seen a woman in years.

Her stomach churned under their stares. She clutched the menu a little tighter, suddenly feeling like the spotlight was burning too brightly on her.

“This is all Heeseung’s fault!” Sunoo exclaimed, his grin returning as he strode toward her. The warmth in his expression was almost blinding, and Y/N swore for a moment she was staring into the sun itself. Did everyone here have such radiant smiles?

“Y/N, right? The boss told me about you,” Sunoo said.

His voice was lighter than she’d expected, catching her off guard. Freckles dusted his face, and dimples appeared as he smiled. There was an effortless charm about him that made Y/N’s nerves simmer down, if only slightly.

“Don’t listen to him; he’s the real devil,” Heeseung cut in, his smirk sharp and teasing.

Y/N offered a polite laugh, though her gaze stayed locked on Sunoo, unwilling to meet Heeseung’s eyes. Something about his presence made her skin prickle, like a predator sizing up its prey.

“What's her position?” Sunoo asked, tilting his head toward Jungwon.

“No idea. Boss didn’t tell me.” He shrugged, wiping a cleaver clean.

“General manager, huh? Real thorough,” Sunoo teased, earning yet another tired glare from Jungwon.

Narrowing his eyes, he started twirling a knife in his fingers with a precision that was both impressive and mildly intimidating. For a moment, Y/N thought he might actually throw it. Instead, Sunoo blew him a raspberry, hopping away toward the ovens with the carefree energy of a child.

“He’s like a child,” Y/N muttered under her breath, intending it only for herself.

Heeseung, however, caught it. His sharp, slanted eyes eyes locked onto hers with unsettling accuracy.

“He’s immature, sure,” Heeseung said, pulling on a pair of plastic gloves with deliberate slowness, “but he’s got a pure soul.” He leaned back against the counter behind him, crossing one leg over the other in a way that seemed too casual to be uncalculated. “That’s his best quality. Don’t think too lowly of him.”

Heeseung’s gaze remained fixed on her, drilling into her as if he were daring her to disagree. Y/N swallowed hard, offering a small nod before looking anywhere but at him. A few minutes ago, Heeseung had been arguing with Sunoo; now he sounded almost protective. The sudden shift in mood was disorienting.

“Dude, leave her alone. You’re scaring her,” Jungwon said with a roll of his eyes, his arms crossed in an authoritative, almost sassy stance.

“Nonsense,” Heeseung replied smoothly, slipping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders before she could react. Her entire body stiffened at the unexpected contact. “We’re already friends, aren’t we?”

Y/N blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded, but managed a noncommittal hum of agreement. This guy was so strange. Almost as strange as Park Sunghoon from last night.

“Yeah, totally,” she mumbled, grimacing when Heeseung gave her back a hearty pat, seemingly satisfied.

“I’m not sure what position you’ll fill,” Heeseung said, stepping back and adjusting his gloves. “But I’m the Executive Chef here. What I say, goes.”

Y/N gave a small nod. Truthfully, she had no idea what position she was supposed to take either. She’d applied on a whim and somehow ended up here. What would Sunghoon assign her to do? She tried not to think about it, but “janitor” seemed like the most realistic option.

“Jungwon over here is the general manager, which means he always has a stick up his ass,” Heeseung added with a smirk.

Y/N had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Despite his unnerving demeanor, Heeseung was undeniably funny.

“That’s enough,” Jungwon said with an exaggerated sigh, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward, betraying his amusement.

“Yeah, Jungwon, you really need to get laid!” Sunoo’s voice rang out from across the kitchen, loud and unapologetic.

Y/N couldn’t hold it in this time—she laughed, a genuine, bright sound that echoed in the chaotic kitchen. It caught everyone’s attention. Sunoo, Heeseung, and Jungwon all turned to her, their surprise evident.

Jungwon recovered first, pointing a finger at Sunoo. “I’m so going to get you for that,” he threatened, though his tone lacked any real malice.

Sunoo simply grinned, forming a heart with his fingers before skipping off toward the ovens again.

“You have a cute laugh,” Heeseung said abruptly, ruffling Y/N’s hair gently as if she were a kid.

“Thanks,” she murmured, looking away as her cheeks flushed. She didn’t know why heat rushed to her face at the comment, but when a good-looking guy compliments you, what else are you supposed to do?

“Not as cute as Jake’s, though. But still.” He continued, a soft smile growing on his face.

The moment the name “Jake” left Heeseung’s lips, Jungwon and Sunoo groaned simultaneously.

“You and Jake again? Just fucking date already,” Jungwon grumbled.

“I’m sorry, what K-drama episode is this?” Sunoo asked, deadpan.

Heeseung scoffed, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. “You’re just jealous someone actually likes me.”

Jungwon and Sunoo gasped in unison, spinning toward him with exaggerated expressions of mock offense.

Y/N stifled a giggle, marveling at how easily their banter shifted between tense and ridiculous. The dynamic in the kitchen was chaotic, but it felt oddly warm– inviting, even.

She opened her mouth to ask who this ‘Jake’ was when the kitchen doors slammed open.

All heads turned instinctively toward the sound.

Now, Y/n hadn’t been attracted to any man ever since experiencing a very messy breakup with her ex– yet all those years of celibacy had flew out the window the moment she saw who just sauntered in. He had long, luscious locks of black hair and the plumpest lips he’d ever seen; even on a girl. The man looked like he hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep in years but it managed to make him look even more attractive. His figure was lean, but you could see through his see-through blouse how toned his biceps were. She couldn’t help but stare.

There’s nothing wrong with thinking your coworker is attractive, Y/n. She consoled herself.

“You’re late,” Heeseung said flatly, his tone laced with just enough disapproval to sound believable. He straightened from where he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

Riki strode in without a trace of apology, his expression a mix of irritation and defiance. He dropped his crossbody Prada bag onto the floor as casually as if it were a grocery tote.

Y/N blinked, unable to hide her disbelief. He just put a Prada bag on the floor. Not even she would do that, and she’d grown up in a pretty well-off family.

“Sorry, your majesty,” Riki quipped, smirking as he pulled a black bandana from his pocket and tied it around his head to push his bangs out of his face. The gesture was quick and practiced, his fingers moving deftly. Y/N noticed how his confidence exuded throughout the room, and she quickly looked away with a blush on her cheeks.

“Riki, you’re on dish duty tonight. Jung-Hoon’s still sick,” Jungwon announced, tossing him a stained washcloth and gesturing toward the sink with a tilt of his chin.

“Are you serious?” Riki groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “I swear he’s just saying that to get out of work.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sunoo chimed in, laughing as he patted Riki’s shoulder in mock sympathy. “Rules are rules.”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a grin. She was beginning to think she might enjoy this strange, lively environment.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the minutes turned into an hour, the kitchen transformed into a full-fledged operation. Waiters and servers bustled in and out, balancing trays of empty plates or carefully scrawling order notes onto slips of paper. Sunoo, one of the fastest and most efficient among them, barely paused to catch his breath as he dropped another set of orders onto the counter near the chefs. The cooks moved like clockwork, passing sauces and side dishes to sous-chefs, who quickly returned them plated and garnished.

Y/N couldn’t help but be captivated by the precision. The staff worked in such perfect sync, their movements calculated yet fluid. And then there was her—awkwardly lingering at the edges of the chaos, feeling more like an outsider with each passing minute.

“Hey, what is this girl doing here?”

The shout cut through the noise, and Y/N felt her stomach drop as a few heads turned in her direction.

She was frozen in place, caught off guard, but before she could answer, Riki’s voice piped up from near the bathrooms.

“Who, David hyung?” Riki was adjusting a tie in a small wall-mounted mirror, his tone casual. His hair had been tied back with a hair tie, of all things, and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if he actually intended to leave it that way.

She hesitated, awkwardly raising her hand in a half-hearted wave. She’d been standing near Heeseung moments ago, but he had wandered off to argue with a waitress.

“Oh,” Riki said, his tone brightening when he finally noticed her. “So you must be the new hire. Wait here, I’ll find Sunghoon-hyung for you.”

Y/N nodded, though disappointment flickered faintly in her chest. She’d been hoping to introduce herself properly, but everyone just seemed too busy.

“Nishimura here, has anyone seen Mr. Park yet?” Riki’s voice came through a walkie-talkie clipped to his ear as he pushed his way out of the kitchen doors. And just like that, he was gone again.

Y/N tried to keep herself out of everyone’s way, retreating to the quieter area near the cold storage. Curiosity tugged at her, though, and she couldn’t resist peeking into the walk-in fridge. She was curious– too much for her own good, her mother would tell him, so she felt an urge to go inside. It’s not like there's much in there anyway, but she wanted to explore every part of this place to familiarize herself. After all, she did plan on working here for a while.

While nobody was looking (which no one was in the first place), she walked inside the ventilation room which didn’t have a door. The temperature dropped sharply as she stepped inside, her breath puffing in small clouds. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with imported fruits, bread, vegetables, and neatly labeled containers. She noted the gleaming steel doors on either side of the room, their surfaces polished enough to reflect her face. Her breath came out in small puffs, hot smoke emitting from his her.

Her fingers brushed against one of the handles, but something in her stomach twisted—an instinctive unease she couldn’t quite place. Get yourself together. It’s just a freezer, she told herself, exhaling slowly.

She stepped closer, her hand hovering over the keypad next to the door. It required a code to unlock. Y/N sighed, letting her arm fall back to her side. No use poking around where she didn’t belong.

“What are you doing here?”

The low, cutting voice came from directly behind her, so close she felt the heat of their breath.

Y/N froze, a startled gasp slipping from her lips. Her heart jumped to her throat as she spun around.

Speak of the devil.

Park Sunghoon stood there, his expression hard and unyielding, his dark eyes sharp enough to pierce through her. His brows were furrowed, and his clenched jaw only added to the intensity of his glare. She started trembling, an uneasy feeling washing over her as she felt her limbs go numb.

“I asked you a question.” His face was contorted with rage, hostile gaze boring into her eyes. and Y/n swore she had never felt more terrified in her life. She was paralyzed to the spot, the menacing aura holding her in a tightening grip.

“I— I didn’t mean to—” Y/N stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

His hand slammed against the door behind her, just inches from her head. The metallic clang echoed in the small room, and she flinched instinctively. Y/n took two steps backward, recoiling herself as much as she could. Sunghoon mimicked this, taking two steps forward until their faces were inches apart.

Her mind was whirling, confusion and fear etched on her face. She didn’t know what provoked this type of reaction, as the same playful Sunghoon from last night seemed to have dissapated. Y/n did not like this new version at all.

“Get out,” he spat, his voice cold and venomous.

“What?” Y/N blinked, unsure if she’d heard him correctly.

“I said, get out. Now.”

The command snapped her out of her daze. She slipped under his arm and bolted for the door, her pulse pounding as she emerged back into the bustling kitchen.

“Never come here again, you understand?” Sunghoon’s voice followed her, sharp and unrelenting.

She didn’t turn around, couldn’t turn around. Her legs carried her forward on autopilot, her body reeling from the encounter.

That was a close one, Sunghoon thought to himself, his sharp gaze lingering on the door Y/N had fled through moments ago. He hadn’t planned on firing her—not for something as trivial as this. Other people had made the same mistake before, and Y/N was far too important for his future plans to let go.

If I go through with it, that is, he reminded himself, the thought laced with calculated restraint. There were still details to finalize, conversations to have with his affiliates.

He exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable as he turned back toward the steel door. His fingers moved with practiced ease, punching in the security code. The small beep echoed faintly in the stillness of the room. The heavy door clicked open, and he slipped inside, the cold air biting against his skin. Without hesitation, he reached for the keypad on the interior wall and locked the door behind him, ensuring no one else could follow.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Y/N’s feet didn’t stop moving until she was safely out of the cold storage area and back into the bustling kitchen. The warmth of the space wrapped around her like a shield, but her heart was still hammering against her ribs. She pressed a hand to her chest, willing herself to calm down.

She scanned the room, searching for something—anything—to ground her. Her gaze landed on Riki, who had just returned, casually sliding into the room with a clipboard in hand. He glanced up, immediately noticing the strained look on her face.

“So I couldn’t find Sunghoon, but you can work with Sunoo as a—Hey, are you okay?”

His teasing tone disappeared, replaced by genuine concern. Riki tilted his head, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied her.

Y/N tried to respond, but her throat felt tight, and her voice caught before she could form words.

“Y/N?” His tone softened, and he took a cautious step closer. The sudden shift in his demeanor, from playful to protective, nearly unraveled her completely.

“I’m fine,” she managed to say, though her voice cracked slightly. She blinked rapidly, forcing the tears threatening to spill to retreat. She hated feeling like this—so vulnerable, so exposed.

Riki frowned, not buying her answer. Without saying anything, he stepped forward and wrapped her in a short, loose hug. It was quick, just enough to let her feel the comfort of another person’s presence.

Y/N froze for a moment, startled by the gesture. Then she let herself relax, if only slightly. She already had the craziest past 24 hours, so a hug was really what she needed right now– even if its from a total stranger she had just met. Her childhood butler would kill himself if he knew what she was doing, the hilarious thought making her feel slightly better.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

He pulled back, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “Look, I don’t know what happened, and I know we just met, but we’re technically family now.” His voice was quiet, almost careful, as if he didn’t want to overwhelm her further. “If something’s wrong, you come to me, okay?”

Y/N hesitated, unsure whether to trust him. He seemed sincere, but then again, so had Sunghoon when they first met. Still, she nodded.

“Good,” Riki said with a simple smile, as if that settled everything. He straightened up just as Sunoo walked by, arms full of freshly folded linens.

“Riki, they need you out front,” Sunoo called, not bothering to stop as he breezed past them.

Riki sighed dramatically, giving Y/N one last look. “I’ll be back. Don’t let Sunoo boss you around too much.”

“Hey!” Sunoo called from across the room, his tone indignant.

Riki grinned, raising his hands in mock surrender as he headed for the doors.

Sunoo turned to Y/N once Riki was gone, his easygoing smile immediately putting her at ease. “Well, since you’re stuck with me for now, let’s keep it simple for your first day.” He handed a notepad and pen to Y/n, who took it with grace.

“Just watch what I do, and if you have any questions, ask away.”

“Thanks, Sunoo,” Y/N said softly, grateful for his straightforwardness.

He smiled wider and led her out to the dining area, where the atmosphere was entirely different from the chaos of the kitchen. Guests sat at elegantly set tables, the low hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware filling the air. The chandeliers overhead cast a warm, golden light, and the scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the rich aroma of sauces and grilled meats.

Y/N followed Sunoo closely, observing as he navigated the room with practiced ease. He moved quickly but never appeared rushed, greeting guests with a polite smile and taking orders with precision.

“You have to be exact,” Sunoo explained as he scribbled a note onto his pad. “A single mistake, and the chefs will make you regret it.”

Y/N nodded, hurriedly writing down his advice. She couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he handled everything, even when a guest became visibly impatient.

The next hour passed in a blur of activity. Y/N trailed after Sunoo like a shadow, trying to absorb everything she could. Despite her initial nerves, she found herself growing fascinated by the rhythm of it all—the way everyone had a role to play, how every detail mattered. She also liked the blonde’s company, as his extroverted personality made her feel at ease.

By the time they reached their fifth table, Y/N was starting to feel more comfortable. That is, until a petite girl wearing a black mask approached her, her dark eyes sharp and focused.

“Mr. Park told me to give you this,” the girl said simply, handing over a small post-it note.

Y/N’s heart sank the moment she heard his name. Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded the note.

Meet me in my office by 2:30. No company. – President Sunghoon

Her stomach churned, a familiar dread creeping up her spine.

“Is everything okay?” Sunoo asked, noticing the way her face had paled.

Y/N forced a nod, quickly folding the note and slipping it into her pocket. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just... an orientation thing, I think.”

Sunoo didn’t seem entirely convinced but didn’t press further. “If you say so.”

Y/N tried to focus on the task at hand, but her mind kept circling back to the note. She didn’t know what the man wanted, but she doubted it was anything good.

How fun.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

author note: ahhh what is he gonna say?? 👀 also im sorry if the character descriptions are weird, i was trying to figure out which member fit which role best (i switched heeseung and jay last minute bc heejake <3 and 02z supremacy). thank you for all the love!! hope you enjoyed! not beta read! (we die like men), wc: 4.4k

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taglist: @rebeccaaaaaaaa, @strxwbloody, @shuichi-sama , @pshbites

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babymetaldoll · 5 months ago

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Are you mine? - Chapter Three: "She's a silver lining"

Word count: 5.253 words Warnings: This is so fluffy it might be illegal. Reader's discretion is advised. Summary: Baby Reid Nº1 is here, and both Spencer and reader are ready, but not really. A/N: I know no woman would ever be worthy of making Spencer a father, but that man deserves to be a dad.

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(Y/N)’s point of view

When we found out we were having a little girl, Spencer lost his mind. I know he would have been happy if the doctor had said it was a boy, but a baby girl was just what he had always dreamed about. A little princess to spoil and teach everything.

We decided to name her Raven Marie Reid, and ever since that day, my husband talked to our daughter every second he could. He encouraged us to hear more classical music to help her brain develop, he read her bedtime stories and even asked about her day.

- “I’m telling you, chipmunk, Raven knows I’m talking to her”- Spencer pointed out as we walked into the bullpen- “She kicks and moves when I say her name.”

- “I know, honey bunny. She is still inside me, kicking my ribs and squeezing my bladder most of the time.”- I replied and shook my head, smiling. I couldn’t deal with his proud smile at my words.

- “Reids! you are here! I’ve got news”- Penelope nearly tackled us as soon as she saw us, and didn’t even give us time to reach our desk.

- “We have to take the fit test.”- she announced quickly.

- “We?”- Spencer asked, confused.

- “Me too?”- I questioned, scared of the answer. I was already 38 weeks into the pregnancy and I could barely move. I wasn’t allowed to travel anymore, so I had to help the team from my desk whenever they were out of town.

- “Of course not, munchkin. Just me and your husband.”- Garcia explained tapping on my arm.

- “But why? We have enough case hours to cover a fit test.”- Spencer argued, confused.

- “I just got the mail. So, I guess we should train a little.”- Garcia shrugged and started walking with us to our desk.

- “I can help.”- I suggested - “I was very good at my fit test, and I can give you some tips.”

- “Can we talk with Hotch and get out of this?” - Spencer suggested- “I mean, it’s a fit test. Honestly, we don’t need this.”

- “Well, we are having a baby, and you are gonna have to play with her, so maybe getting some exercise done could be good for you.”- I suggested, but Spencer looked at me like I had cursed him- “What?”

- “You know I’m not good at sports.”

- “You are amazing in the field and you know it.”- I rubbed his shoulder and smiled- “But you have to get used to running now that we are having to have a kid to follow around.”

- “My princess is not gonna make me run around, right Raven?”- Spencer asked and rubbed my tummy. Our daughter moved inside my belly and sat directly on my bladder.

- “Great, I have to pee again. Thank you, honey bunny.”

The following morning, Spencer and I got up extra early to meet Penelope on the training track in Quantico. My husband looked the cutest in his red shorts and mismatched socks. I planned a simple circuit for them to warm up and watched them running as I sat on a bench and ate part of the orange slices I had brought to them. I tried to imagine how it would be when Raven went to school, would she like sports? Would she join the track team? Soccer? softball? my mind wandered to all the amazing things our baby girl would do. Anything she dreamed of, I would encourage her to pursue.

Spoiler alert: Raven is on the swimming team, and she loves it. We go to her competitions with homemade banners and Spencer made sure our house had a pool, so she can practice whenever she wants.

- “Come on honey bunny!!”- I yelled as Spencer made it to the finish line, a few seconds after García, in what I could call a dreadful performance running. I stopped the timer and shook my head as I made my way over. Spencer and Penelope were panting, and trying to elongate their weary muscles.

- “Why does it have to be such a fast mile?”- Garcia argued, trying to catch her breath- “Have you ever even had to run a mile in the field?”

- “No.”- Spencer answered, panting. I handed them a Gatorade and tried to cheer them up.

- “Come on! you are doing better! You’ve got this!”

- “I'm not even in the field.”- Penelope kept arguing - “I sit at a computer on my perfect posterior, like all day.”

- “I know, Pen. But it’s the rule. Apparently, everybody has to take the fit test this year.”- I tried to explain, but my friend decided to keep rambling.

- “Well, at least we didn’t ask Derek.”- Garcia was thinking out loud - “It's bad enough some bureaucrat is making us take this stupid test. The last thing we need is Mr. Universe talking smack the whole time.”

- “But he knows about all this stuff.”- Spencer argued her point of view - “He can probably, like, teach us some tricks, help us train.”

- “Your wife is doing that already, Reid.”- Garcia pointed out the obvious- “Besides, Derek takes it way too seriously. I worked out with him once.”

- “You work out?”- my husband asked surprised, and Pen just nodded, still trying to catch her breath. - “That's cool. I don't.”

- “We can tell, hon.”- I whispered as I rubbed his back.

- “I train in a non-traditional manner and never again with him.”- Garcia explained. - “He was all, "There you go, baby girl. Move it or lose it. This ain't your high-tech room. My grandmama can move better than that."- I chuckled at her impersonation of Morgan as my husband tried to excuse him somehow.

- “He can be enthusiastic at times.”- Spencer was so nice, we all know Derek was a drill sergeant training. I loved training with him, he always forced me to give 110%, but of course, neither my husband nor Garcia enjoyed it.

- “That's a way of saying it.”- I giggled and looked at the clock - “Now come on! Give me a couple more laps.”

- “Do we have to?”- Spence asked me with sweet puppy eyes, looking adorable and exhausted.

- “Yes, you do. Come on! You’ve got this.”

Lucky for Spencer and Penelope, Hotch texted us to tell us we had a case, which only meant training was over.

It also meant I had to stay with Garcia as my husband left the city to catch a serial killer. I knew it was our job and there was nothing I could do about it, but it made me uneasy to think about what would happen to Raven and me if anything went to happen to Spencer on the field. It was a fact: I was afraid of our mortality now that we were about to be parents. That is one fear I haven’t stopped feeling, and it’s one of the main reasons why today we are leaving the BAU.

During that case, Spencer got hit. It wasn’t serious, just a punch on the face, and Morgan teased him saying they might have ruined his pretty face a little. However, I didn’t laugh at all. I wasn’t calm or even rational at that point. You lose it when you get a phone call from your boss saying your husband is at the hospital, and you can’t go ‘cos you are 635 miles away and unable to get on a plane ‘cos you are 38 weeks pregnant. It doesn’t matter if it’s just a punch in the face.

I was beyond furious with him and Hotch. Mad at Spencer for putting himself in danger out there, and with Hotch, for putting him there in the first place.

I yelled so much while the team was on their way back, Garcia was afraid I was going to deliver the baby in her office. But I knew I had to get it off my system before dealing with Hotch, ‘cos I didn’t want to get fired for attempting to murder my boss.

- “What the fuck was Spencer thinking?!”- I yelled as I paced in Penelope’s office, trying to breathe. - “He never gets in any physical fight with an unsub! Ever! When was the last time he got hurt during a case? Tell me, Pen!?”- and my friend stared at me, not knowing the answer.

- “I’m… well…”

- “It was over five years ago, we weren’t even dating yet. He got fucking anthrax!! and he almost died! I can’t go through that again, we are gonna have a baby. Do you think I could raise a baby alone? I fucking can’t! There is no way on earth I can do this alone! Spencer can’t do this to me!”

- “(Y/N), please breathe. He just got punched on the face, that’s it.”- Garcia tried to reason with me, and failed.

- “Just punched on the face? Do you know how dangerous that is? It means he was fighting the unsub! One false movement and things south!”

- “But it didn’t happen, please, munchkin, calm down, you are gonna give me a stroke.”

- “I’m not gonna calm down until my husband is here, safe and sound!”

My wishes came true later that evening after I had made a major effort to calm myself down and not look like the hormonal and slightly crazy woman I was that day.

- “I’m ok, I swear”- Spencer said as soon as he stepped out of the elevator and found me waiting for him.- “I’m sorry, ma cherie.”

I sighed, taking in his perfume, the smell of his neck, and the warmth of his arms around me. Spencer kissed the top of my head and didn’t move for a few minutes until he was sure I was calmed. Somehow, having him there made me forget about how mad I had been earlier that day.

- “Are you sure you are ok?”- I whispered and looked at his face, he had a cut on the eyebrow and a bruise on the cheekbone.

- “Nothing that some kisses can’t fix.”- he said with a sweet smile.

- “You would have been proud, pretty girl.”- Derek pointed out, walking past us along with the rest of the team. - “Reid tacked the unsub like a pro.”

- “I did.”- my husband nodded. - “Working out is paying off.”

- “So, do you think you could stay here until the baby is born?”- I asked and Spencer just smiled.

- “Hotch and I already talked. I won’t move from my desk until Raven is here.”- I beamed, relieved, and let out a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding.

- “Thank you, honey bunny.”

- “Anything for you, ma cherie.”

- “I’m glad I don’t have to yell at Hotch anymore.”- my husband frowned, confused.

- “Why would you…”

- “Never mind, honey bunny.”

Spencer’s point of view

There are so many things I will never forget, and not just because I have an eidetic memory. One of my favorites is the day Raven was born. That was the day I became a father, and by far, one of the happiest moments of my life.

(Y/N) had started feeling contractions after dinner. We were on the couch watching Dr. Who and eating ice cream when they began. They were soft and irregular, so we didn’t move, and instead, we did what the doctor had instructed, and started timing the contractions.

After a while, (Y/N) decided a bath was a good idea ‘cos it might help her relax before bed, so I filled the tub and helped her in. We didn’t call anyone but our midwife, who told us we were doing the right thing and suggested we get as much sleep as possible. So we went to bed. I held my wife and placed a hand on his belly.

I felt like I hadn’t slept for more than five minutes when my wife’s voice woke me up at five thirty am.

- “Honey.”- she whispered, shaking my arm carefully.

- “Everything ok?! Are you in pain?! Do you need the doctor?”- I nearly jumped and stared at her, she seemed scared, though she tried to remain calm.

- “My water broke.”

And that was when my brain turned off.

I stared at (Y/N), slowly panicking, and stood by her side, analyzing everything. Yes, our mattress was probably ruined but that wasn’t the biggest issue at that minute.

- “Spencer?”- my wife called out my name, probably reading how I was losing it at that minute.

- “Yes, cherie, I’m here. I just… need a second.”

- “We have to go to the hospital.”- her voice was a whisper, and she didn’t say another word. A contraction hit her and I could read the pain all over her face. That was when it clicked me, there was no time to overthink, I had to be there for her. In a second I was fully dressed and helping her walk to the door.

- “The bag is in the car, I’ve got my cell… and yours.”- she kept panting as she enumerated everything we needed.

- “We’ll call your parents from the car”- I said as I grabbed the keys and opened the front door.

- “Wait!”- (Y/N) stayed still and held her belly with both hands. I saw her doing her breathing exercises, going through what looked like a very painful contraction. I placed my hand on hers and stared at her, doing her best to do everything we were taught we had to do.

- “I am so proud of you.”- I whispered and kissed her temple. - “You are doing so well, ma cherie.”

- “In case later I yell and say things I don’t mean, I love you.”- she replied and I chuckled. - “You know I might do that if it gets too painful.”

- “I know you will.”- I replied and kissed her lips - “Ready to walk to the car?”- (Y/N) nodded and started moving slowly. I closed the door and held her arm, helping her all the way over.

I rushed into the hospital with my wife, who was trying her best to hide her pain from me, so I wouldn’t freak out. But I was freaking out anyway. Of course, I was. I was running in my head all the possible scenarios that could go wrong in the following hours and I was terrified.

- “My wife is having our baby, her water broke.”- that was all I could say as soon as we reached the front desk. A nurse put (Y/N) in a wheelchair and guided her to a room in less than a minute to examine her. I gave our info and followed her, trying to remain calm.

- “How are you feeling, Mrs. Reid?”- she asked (Y/N).

- “I’m ok, I guess. I keep trying to think this isn’t the most painful thing ever ‘cos I know it’s gonna get worse.”- and my wife even joked, she is a champ.

- “We’ll make sure you feel the least pain possible. Now, let’s put you in bed and see how long until we meet your baby. Do you know what you are having?”

- “A girl.”- (Y/N) replied as I helped her move into the bed. I felt like there was nothing I could do at that minute, so I just stared at her being the most amazing woman ever.

- “Did you pick a name yet?”

- “Yes, Raven Marie.”-

- “That’s a lovely name! Now, let’s see how you are doing.”

The nurse was very nice. She asked my wife a million questions I heard (Y/N) answer patiently, checked her vitals, assessed her contractions, and checked her cervical dilatation. During that entire time, I couldn’t say a word, I was shocked. It was happening, my wife was going to make me a dad, and I was terrified. Not that I didn’t want to be a father, I was just scared anything might go wrong. And if everything went well, and the baby ended up hating me ‘cos I was the worst father on earth? I didn’t know how to be a good dad, I didn’t have one most of my life.

- “Honey, honey”- (Y/N) held my hand and took me from my thoughts.

- “Are you ok?”- I asked right away and she smiled.- “What can I get you?”

- “Nothing, but are you ok? You are pale and I can see you are losing it, and this hasn’t even started yet.”- I nodded and felt her squeezing my hand. - “It’s gonna be ok, so please don’t overthink it, ok?”- I nodded and leaned in to kiss her forehead, but she moved and crushed her lips against mine, making me smile.

- “Come on! She is still pregnant! Wait a little before knocking her up again.”- Frank said as he walked in absolutely unannounced, holding a paper bag filled with snacks, books, and magazines.

- “How the fuck did you know we were here?”- that was the first thing my wife questioned, and then the nurse showed up to take him out.

- “Your mom called us all, everybody is on their way, I just got here early.”

- “Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to wait outside.”- the nurse said and pointed to the door.

- “Don’t worry, guys. I’m gonna be camping out there, I’m on the welcome committee. Anything you need, I’m here.”- Frank moved quickly, kissed (Y/N)’s forehead, and smiled. - “You are gonna kick ass, nugget!”

We are lucky to have the best friends on earth.

(Y/N)’s parents, Lu, and Mikey were in the waiting room with Frank in less than half an hour. They all had stopped by to see my wife and wish her luck. Hotch and Garcia got there next and hugged me tight.

- “How is my munchkin? Can I see her?”- Pen asked right away.

- “She is with the doctor, everything is fine. She is still a few hours away from pushing, but everything is going well. They are evaluating if they are giving her the epidural now.”- I explained and Pen nodded.

- “JJ said she won’t come ‘cos she has a cold and it could be dangerous for (Y/N) and the baby, but asked me to send pictures later.”- I just nodded and looked around the room. Everyone I loved was there to support us.

- “Did you bring her ice?”- Hotch asked and I showed him the cup I was holding.

- “On my way to get more ice right now.”

- “And how are you?”- my unit chief asked the million-dollar question, so I just sighed.

- “I can’t stand hospitals, there’s something about the lighting…”- Hotch raised an eyebrow and stared at me knowing that was not what bothered me. - “I’m just worried, I can’t stop thinking anything might go wrong.”- it was easiest to confess my darkest fear at that moment because I needed some sort of contention.

- “It’s normal, Reid. You want to be sure she and the baby are going to be ok.”- Hotch put a hand on my shoulder and smiled at me. - “You are doing a great job here.”

- “Thank you.”- it was somehow reassuring to hear Hotch saying that. I felt silly but it somehow took a weight from my chest.

- “Son.”- Chief (Y/L/N) walked towards, shook Hotch’s hand, and welcomed Garcia. - “Have you eaten anything?”- he didn’t actually wait for my reply, my father-in-law handed me a sandwich and a coffee. - “Eat this, I’ll bring my princess the ice. You need a little break.”- he tapped on my back and Sofia patted on an empty chair next to her and I moved towards her slowly.

- “Did you call your mom yet, honey?”- she asked me as I chewed the sandwich and shook my head. - “Do you want me to call her?”

- “It’s still too early in Las Vegas. And I don’t want her to get anxious. I’ll call her when Raven is here with us.”- I explained and sipped my coffee. Extra cream and extra sugar. I hummed happily and Sofia smiled.

- “Did I get your order right?”- she asked me and I nodded, surprised. - “I’m glad. I made you the sandwich you said you liked last time we had brunch. A bacon omelet goat cheese sandwich.”- she pointed out proudly.- “I remembered how much you liked it.”

- “Thank you, Sofia.” - she leaned over and kissed my forehead.

- “I love you, son. I am so excited you and my baby are about to be parents.”

I blushed as I heard her words, feeling my heart filled with love. Around us, Frank, Lu, Garcia, and Mikey talked about all the plans they had for my baby girl. Hotch was talking with Derek, who had just walked in with Alex.

- “Now eat your food,"- Sofia added.- "I’ll put an eye on my baby.”

I am still amazed by the warm feeling that having a family gives me. Not just my wife and kids, but our entire extended family, in-laws, and friends. I never thought I could ever have this. I know I say it a lot, but it’s very hard for me to believe this is my life.

(Y/N)’s point of view

Things I couldn’t stop thinking about the first time I had a baby: how Spencer always said studies showed women forgot about pain as soon as they held their babies. I needed to get to that point as fast as possible because no matter how many drugs they gave me, I felt like I was tearing apart.

- “Come on Mrs. Reid!”- the doctor said, from between my legs. - “I can see her head! just a few more pushes!!”

- “I can’t, I’m too tired!”- I argued and felt like breaking into tears, ‘cos I was moody and tired and most of all, scared ‘till the death of what was going on. A human was coming out of my body, I wasn’t ready to be a mom. I was terrified of messing it up.

- “Come on, ma cherie.”- Spencer had held my hand through the whole process, and though he had delivered a baby himself, for the first time ever, he didn’t give directions or corrected anyone. I guessed he was too scared to mess up and trusted the medical staff.

- “I’m sorry hon, I can’t do this.”- I mumbled and felt my baby punching her way out of my body. I had a strong contraction and instead of talking, all I could do was scream in pain.

- “Yes, you can do this, (Y/N). Come on! Just push, our baby is almost here. Just push, ok?”- Spencer begged as I did as told and gave my biggest effort.

- “Almost!! Just one more!!!”- the doctor said. Spencer held my hand tighter and nodded, in support. I don’t know how I did it, but somehow, I managed to push one more time and suddenly, I heard a baby cry.

- “Oh my god”- Spencer gasped and stayed still, staring at the baby with tears in his eyes. The doctor stood up and placed a red crying baby on my chest, and suddenly, Spencer was right. I felt no pain whatsoever. Nothing. All I could do was stare in awe and, of course, cry, how that little baby on my chest was in fact, my little baby.

- “Hi Raven.”- I whispered and touched her back carefully, with shaky hands. - “Hi, I’m your mom, and me and your dad love you very much.”- I chuckled and sniffed as Spencer moved closer and kissed my forehead.

- “She is perfect.”- he whispered and stared at her in admiration and pure love. The nurse gave him a pair of scissors and instructed him how to cut the umbilical cord. I tried to stop crying, but it was nearly impossible. I was a mom. My husband was a dad. We were parents.

Spencer and I had a kid. That was the thought I couldn’t process. The guy I had a crush on for what seemed to be my entire life, my best friend, the smartest guy on earth, and I, had made a baby. I managed to look away from Raven for a second and watched him staring at us, sobbing.

- “I love you so much.”- I whispered and he smiled at me. He leaned in and kissed my lips carefully, and then kissed our baby girl.

- “I love you too, so much. I am so proud of you, ma cherie.”

It was all sweet and fun until that point. But no one ever prepared me for what happened when we took Raven home. Yes, we were ready (or so we thought), but let me tell you this: dealing with a newborn after a week of no sleep is way worse than any unsub's interrogation I had ever dealt with. Way worse.

I felt I was losing my sanity after the first eight days with Raven at home. She didn’t sleep for longer than an hour, which meant neither did we. Breastfeeding wasn’t magical, it was uncomfortable and sometimes even painful, which made me feel like the worst mother on earth. During that first week, I did my best to remain calm and rational. But after eight days of no sleeping, pain due to delivery, swollen breasts, and the irrevocable agony of thinking I was the worst mother on earth, I locked myself in the kitchen and cried my eyes out as I waited for the pot to boil.

Spencer was with Raven in our room, walking around 'cause it was the best way to keep her asleep for more than half an hour. I didn’t want him to know I was crying 'cause I felt useless and pathetic. A voice inside my head kept telling me any other woman would do better than me. Any other woman would be a better mother for Raven and a better wife for Spencer.

I’m not proud to tell you how I felt, I swear. But at that moment, I was overwhelmed.

So I waited for the water to boil and cried as much as I could. Then I put myself together, grabbed a cup, and prepared a cup of hot lavender tea for myself. I also grabbed a bag of marshmallows and ate half of it in less than a minute. Then, I took a deep breath and headed back to our bedroom, where Spencer was still walking our baby. He looked exhausted but kept staring at Raven with the sweetest look in his eyes. It made me feel guilty because he was doing just great and I was a failure. And what was worse: I couldn’t stop thinking JJ was a better BAU mom than I was. She was my only comparison, and as far as I was concerned, she kicked ass. And there I was, failing.

- “She is asleep.”- Spencer whispered and I walked to him, to make sure Raven was well. - “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ve got her.”

- “No, I don’t wanna leave you alone with all the work.” - I argued, knowing it was useless to resist.

- “Every book says that when the baby is asleep, the mother should try to get some rest. Now please, get in bed and nap a little. I’ll be right here with Raven, ok?”

- “But…”

- “Chipmunk, I have to return to work in a few days, please get as much rest as you can while I am still here. I don’t wanna be at work feeling guilty I didn’t do enough to help you.”

- “You’ve done everything, honey.”- I whispered and looked down at my shaking hands. I was still filled with sadness and regret. Feelings I didn’t know how to handle.

- “What are you talking about? You brought her to this world, you feed her, you take care of her. You’ve done more than enough.”- he kissed the top of my head and I just sighed, defeated. - “Get some sleep, ma cherie.”

I was lucky enough to have a large support group. My mom would visit us daily and help us with Raven while we did house chores and napped. Lu, Frank, and Mikey brought us groceries during the first couple of weeks, so we didn’t have to leave the house. Hotch gave us all the free days he could get. But eventually, after a month and a half, my husband had to return to work, and I was all alone at our apartment with Raven.

- “How is my beautiful granddaughter?”- Diana asked as soon as I opened the door. She was visiting after her trip to the Grand Canyon, and my mom had invited her to stay over with her. My mother-in-law was doing so well with her new medication, and she wanted to enjoy as much time with Raven as possible.

- “And Spencer?”- Diana asked, looking around the apartment.

- “He is back to work, starting today.”- I explained and tried not to show how much I hated the idea of him chasing psychopaths and traveling all over the states. Spencer said he would ask Hotch to stay in town, at least for a few weeks, and help the team from headquarters. I wanted him to take a sabbatical from the BAU and teach in Georgetown for a semester. We could live like that, get used to having a baby, and watch her grow. But Hotch needed Spencer, and he said he also needed me back as soon as I was ready.

- “And how many weeks do you have left before going back to work?”- Mrs. Reid asked the dreadful questions as she walked around the apartment holding Raven in her arms.

- “Three more weeks.”

- “And do you want to go back to the FBI?”- Diana was on fire that day, asking everything I didn’t want to think about.

- “I miss my work, but I don’t want to be apart from Raven. I know mom will take care of her when I’m at work, and I don’t wanna travel for the next couple of months. But still, I’m not that excited about coming back to work.”- I explained. However, I left out the most important part: I was terrified of anything happening to us. Getting injured and being in danger was the biggest issue working at the BAU, but before having a kid, I had never felt as afraid as I was then.

- “Why don’t you relax honey?”- my mom asked, probably reading the pain on my face. - “Leave this little princess with us, and have a nice warm bath. How does that sound?”

- “And a nap”- Mrs Reid suggested - “Sleep as much as you want, darling. None of us will feel bad if you need to rest. God knows I needed naps when Spencer was a baby. He was adorable, but the first couple of weeks I was exhausted the entire time. Once I fell asleep sitting at the table, having breakfast.”- I smiled at them and nodded. They were both right. I needed a break before pumping, feeding, and changing diapers again.

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#spencer reid #criminal minds #babymetaldoll writes #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #Spencer reid x fem!bau!reader #Criminal minds fix it

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bird-in-the-space · 4 months ago

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Echoes of the Unknown

You participate in your last summer at Lynx Wood Summer Camp. You dread the future that awaits you at the end of the summer, but luckily, you have your best friend, Emily, to soothe your worries.

Warnings: angsty thoughts, mentions of a difficult family life, reader being rather moody, strange sounds, and comfort.

Chapter 1

--------------------------------

The summer had come to a quick start. The sun was out, it was dead hot, the birds sang in the trees and the bugs flew around either without destination or making their life’s mission to bother as many people as possible in the summer camp Lynx Wood, a place you once loved and grew to hate when you grew older since your parents always forced you to go there so they would not have to deal with you, or that’s what you believed at least. They once promised you all would do something together in the next summer but nothing happened, instead, they just sent you to the same summer camp over and over again. This time would be your last since you have turned eighteen. After this, you will make sure you will never return here, even if you become old and cripple.

“Earth back to (Name)!” someone’s hand waved in front of your face. You snapped back to reality and looked at your best friend of six years, Emily Walkerson.

“The welcoming ceremony is about to start soon. Do you want to get it over with or go get our stuff at the bunk beds?” she asked. “Since we’re eighteen we’re not technically required to join the entrance ceremony,” she added.

“Let’s get it over with. You know, how Mr. Robin will get if we don't follow the schedule,” you replied tiredly.

“Yeah, you're right. I still can’t believe this is gonna be our last year here. We had so much fun during summer breaks here. It feels like it was just yesterday when we first came here. Time flies fast,” she said with her positive attitude. She loved the place where she had made more friends than you. You knew some people, but they were more like acquaintances than friends.

“I wouldn’t say all of them were fun,” you uttered as you two followed the other people to the theater area where the entrance ceremony should be held.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. We are going to graduate and then we don’t ever have to come back here,” Emily tried to sound comforting. “Your parent then have no right to send you here without your will,”

“It’s not just that. But my mom expects me to start living on my own like a full-grown adult, or she might kick me out. I don’t even have another place ready and I don’t even know how to pay taxes,” you threw your shoulders in exaggeration.

“It will be fine. Your dad said he was gonna help you, right?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, that's the only comfort,” you mumbled, remembering the argument you had with your mother before you left for Lynx Wood.

“Cheer up. It’s only two months. Let's spend it with fun and clear heads. Then we can brood about the future later. Sounds good?” Emily nudged you.

“Whatever…” you groaned as you two joined the entrance ceremony.

The entrance ceremony went as it always did. The camp counselor welcomed the new and old faces, explaining the rules, events, and stuff till your ears fell deaf to the rest and your mind went elsewhere. You were then finally allowed to leave and meet up with your camp leaders.

You and Emily met with old friends and settled in your new bunk beds in the camp houses. You were given new shirts as you were now the seniors of the camp and would be joining some activities you were not really excited about. It was hard to feel the excitement. You had done them several times and after your argument with your mother, you were not in the best mood to enjoy the summer.

You met with an old face, Amanda, and her friends. She was the pretty girl of the camp while sometimes she could be nice and tolerable, other times, she could be pretty annoying. You preferred to stay clear of her.

The day luckily went fast. You did some dull activities together and finally settled down with your usual routine of spending time at the campfire with Mr. Robin, your camp leader since you were fourteen.

The fire was crackling in the bonfire. The night was chilly despite it being summer. Some stars twinkled and you could hear some crickets.

A loud boom reached your ears. You looked toward the mountains and frowned. All day you had been hearing strange booming sounds coming from there. This was the fourth time you heard it for the day.

You looked toward your camp leader. “Mr. Robin. Is there some kind of construction happening in the mountains? I have been hearing sounds coming from there all day?” you questioned, pointing toward the mountains. He and the other members of your group looked toward the mountains.

“I have been hearing them too. Maybe a new road is being built there, or maybe the mine there has finally been reopened for business,” Mr. Robin said thoughtfully.

“Didn’t that mine get shut down due to the unstable conditions?” Emily asked, eating from a bag of candy she had brought to the camp.

“It did. It had been shut down for three decades now,” Mr. Robin nodded.

“Or maybe the ghosts there have been awakened and now want to get out,” Amanda grinned as others looked toward her.

“Not funny,” you frowned.

“What? Do you feel scared?” she teased.

“I would if you were someone who could be taken seriously,” you said and others giggled.

“Now, I’m curious though. I never looked into the abandoned mine’s history. What happened that caused it to go abandoned?” Emily questioned and you nearly cursed her curiosity.

“Okay. The story goes like this…” Amanda started and everyone paid attention to her. “One day, when the miners were mining something. An accident happened. Four miners fell into the depths of the caves and were never found. It was said that there were blue crystals and giants made out of metal that took them and trapped them beneath the earth,” she explained and everyone whoaded at the story.

You only rolled your eyes at her.

“Blue crystals and giants made out of metal? I wonder where those came from?” Emily stated.

“It was said one of the rescuers claimed to have seen giant metal beings for a brief moment while trying to find the miners. The miners weren’t found and that rescuer was sent to a mental institution. The mine itself was then shut down due to its unstable structure,” Mr. Robin finished.

“One thing that rescuer claimed was that those metal giants were aliens,” He grinned and most of you chuckled at his expression. Aliens? Really?

“Alright, lynxes. Clean up and get to bed. We have a long day tomorrow,” he stated.

You all cleaned up after yourself, then went to your camp houses.

You tumbled around your bed, unable to find sleep. The camp house was dark, save for the moonlight that came from the window. Your mind was bothered by the argument with your parents and all the other things that followed. You were scared. Your mother wanted to kick you out and your father said nothing. Did you mean that little to them? How do they expect you to survive on your own if you have only finished high school?

No matter how much you disliked this camp. You felt more fear about leaving it.

Tears fell from your eyes as your mind was silently tormented by these thoughts and how alone you felt.

“Hey, (Name)” Emily’s voice snapped you back.

You quickly dry your eyes when you see Emily and that she is awake.

“Is everything okay?” she asked with a worried tone.

“I’m fine,” you said.

“Obviously not. You are crying,” she said. “Tell me… what’s going on? Is it about your family again?”

“I’m scared…” you sighed.

“My mother wants to kick me out and my father doesn’t even care. They don’t even give me time to figure out how to live on my own,” you confessed. “I’m gonna end up living as a street dog by the end of this camp,” you dreaded the thought.

“It’s going to be fine,” Emily comforted.

“And if that does happen then you can come live with me? My mother doesn’t mind and my folks like you,” she smiled.

“Really? But wouldn’t I just be an extra mouth,” you asked, nearly baffled by her suggestion.

“Not at all. And knowing you, you will most likely automatically take half of the housework to compensate even if you don’t have to,” she giggled.

“You might seem aloof with a resting bitch face, but you are a really sweet person,” she smiled. Your face warmed at the praise. You didn’t feel deserving of it.

“You are way more approachable than I am,” you stated.

“You just need to learn how to lower your guard once in a while, but who knows you will eventually find the people you belong with,” Emily assured.

“Thanks, Em. I don’t know what I would have done without you,” you looked at her softly.

“Definitely lost. You need to upgrade your social skills,” she smiled.

You smiled in return, the silent noises in your mind finally vanishing into calmness.

You both then heard a loud bang sound coming from outside.

“Did you hear that?” you asked.

“I did…those road makers are really blowing through those rocks,” she mentioned.

“Anyway, try to get some sleep,” she turned her back toward you.

“Goodnight,” she said.

“Goodnight,” you replied.

You stared through the window toward the mountains, thinking about the sounds and Amanda’s story about those lost miners and alien metal giants. You shook your head. It was just a story from the long past. You closed your eyes and finally found the strength to fall asleep.

#transformers x reader #transformers prime x reader #tfp x reader #transformers prime #tfp #x cybertronian reader #echoes of the unknown #various x reader #oc x reader

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bitkahuna · 22 days ago

Text

“Ponce.”

“That’s me.” Harry sighed, tying his bandana. He was far too tired for anything clever.

“Care so much for your pretty hair?”

“You think it’s pretty?” He grinned. “Rich coming from the boy with manicured hands and perfume.”

“It’s called being civilized, Potter. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

Harry let out a lazy chuckle. Their back and forth was becoming more and more familiar in a way he never expected. It was fun. Mean, sure. They bullied each other. But something about it was also sort of familiar. It was comfortable.

But it took a turn when Draco finally looked over at him and saw his low eyelids and the dark bags under his eyes. The flickering light from the dungeon classroom’s torches cast eerie shadows on Harry's face, giving him an almost spectral appearance. “You look ghastly.” He frowned. “Not too much different from usual, but dreadful nonetheless.” His voice was an odd mix of concern and his usual snide.

Harry was slumped on the table, resting on his elbows. "Just waiting." He muttered, rubbing his eyes and letting out a yawn.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Waiting?" The word picked at him more than it should. But he wasn’t an idiot and he knew Harry wasn’t either. Right now, despite any budding attraction between them, he had the Boy Who Lived, sworn enemy of Voldemort, sleep-deprived and talking. "And that merits ruining your already questionable appearance?"

"Just needs not to be screwed up.”

Harry's response was vague and tired. Draco, just like his father would, sensed an opportunity. But unlike his father, he had neither the subtly nor grace to pull off a manipulation like that against someone who spent half his summer learning from Knockturn Alley. Still, seizing the opportunity to dig deeper, Draco leaned closer, his icy greyish-blue eyes narrowing under the flicker of torchlight.

"Come now, Potter." Draco murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "What are you waiting for?"

Harry, even in his exhausted state, could almost laugh at Draco’s clumsy attempt at manipulation. The Slytherin’s tactics were transparent, more desperation than any real cunning. Though, he sort of liked hearing Draco lower his voice like that. That didn’t stop him from palming the jasper necklace under his shirt, just in case he was accidentally causing it. He wasn’t. But he still half-smiled, eyes hooded with fatigue as he responded, "Lots of things, Malfoy. I’ve seen you practicing on the Quidditch pitch. Merlin knows I’m worried you might actually start getting good.” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he relaxed, pausing to make it seem as though his next reply was a decidedly revealed truth. “It’s the Triwizard Tournament. Can’t figure out what the third task is … I don’t think any of us are getting close.”

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly, a flicker of doubt flashing across his face. He leaned back and crossed his arms as well, trying to mask his own eagerness with disinterest. "Oh, the Tournament." He drawled lazily, twirling his wand between his fingers. "How dreadfully boring that has become. Watching you lot scramble around like headless chickens."

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty obsessed with Diggory for a while there, following him around like a lost puppy, going doe-eyed whenever you talked about him.” While Harry wasn’t saying anything incorrect, he couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy in his voice. Of course, he was fucking jealous.

Draco let out a laugh. “Diggory?” He asked with a wide grin. The main reason he was so delighted was because his plan the entire time had been to make Harry jealous by supporting Diggory. But he never thought it worked, so he stopped. Now, here he was, seeing the fruits of his labor. “He’s charming, but be realistic! He’s lowborn at best. I could never be with someone like him.”

Harry blinked, feeling more awake now than he had in days. He could take the obvious route of going against blood supremacy. But Harry found a much more interesting angle when he thought about it.

-----

#drarry #drarry fanfic #harry x draco #draco x harry #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry/draco #draco malfoy #drarry excerpt #fanfiction #fanfic

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jasntodds · 8 months ago

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Penance [2]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 8,134

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of angst, some fluff, mentions of death, mentions of injuries, some canon violence

Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I hope you guys like this chapter!! It's just the beginning of what's to come!! lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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By the time the next day rolls around, Jason still doesn’t know Dick has asked you to help out. He thinks it’s just him which does have him wondering why Dick didn't ask you. It seems a bit odd given your whole friendship with Tim anyway but he chalks it up to maybe you being busy. Molly mentioned you were working on a case that kept you pretty busy. Maybe you've just been preoccupied with that to actually help. Jason isn’t sure and he isn’t entirely sure why it matters. It doesn’t. It shouldn't.

Jason gets ready to go find Tim. Dick sent him the time Tim should be arriving in Gotham with the specific instructions Dick gave Tim. Jason thinks about how if only Tim knew how lucky he was that Jason is going to be there. Tim has almost no training at all and Dick has basically thrown him to the wolves, or so Tim will think. And Jason can’t help but even feel a little excited over this whole thing. The last time he saw Tim, he was lying on the ground dying. Because of him. This is how he can start to repay Tim for the damage he caused him and his family. It is the least he could possibly do. Tim might not like him after, but he will be prepared and he will be a good Robin. Jason will make sure of it.

Jason heads out to find Tim, daunting his Red Hood gear and helmet. The drive isn’t too far from his safe house but it is raining tonight, on and off. Yesterday was nice, warm and no rain. It’s a bit of a depressing contrast between the two days. The street lights reflect off the wet pavement and Jason isn’t entirely sure what he’s going to do when he gets there. All he knows is Tim will probably need help and he’ll just take it from there. It’s not exactly how he wants to approach any situation but he’s not sure what Tim will even be doing.

Jason pulls up to a building across the street from an alley where some, surely, illegal deal of sorts is going down. Apparently, Tim is supposed to be here eventually so Jason parks the bike in the dark of his alley before he uses a grappling hook to get to the roof of the building just so he can see better. And then he waits.

Meanwhile, you’ve made your place on the roof overlooking the alley with the van, knowing this is where Tim will be. And you can’t help but feel excited to see him. You miss him a lot even if it is a little hard to be happy it’s under the circumstances of Robin. There’s also the bit of dread and excitement over seeing Jason, working with Jason.

Seeing him means there’s going to have to be some sort of conversation over the two of you being unable to pick up a phone and call each other. There’s going to be some sort of conversation about everything that happened. It’s going to bring back all of the pain all over again. Will you even be able to pick up where you left off? Or will you fall into an awkward dance where you both just fumble over each other until Tim leaves? Or will it be worse? But, seeing him, being around him, always felt the most like home and you really hope he’s okay and happy. You’re excited just to see how he’s doing.

You’re laying on your stomach to take cover while you watch over the ledge but your fingers tap wildly against the pavement at the thought. It’s the hope this goes okay, that he doesn’t hate you. That Tim is happy to see you both. That Tim doesn’t get killed in the first five minutes of being Robin. Excitement, dread, and anxiety flood your system. Why did you agree to this?

Commotion starts from below you and you see Tim on the top of a car while the goons are loading their van. Even in the low light, you can tell the suit is a little different than Jason’s and Dick’s. The cape definitely is with its jagged edges and it’s longer. It fits him actually. You stand on the edge of the roof, grappling hook in hand and knife in the other, ready to slide down the second things get out of hand.

Tim handles himself okay at first but then they outnumber him and they’re faster than he is and better. You know Tim has had a few training sessions but by the looks of it, they could not have been very long or helpful. Things start looking pretty bad for him so you use the grappling hook to lower yourself down but before your feet even hit solid ground, shots ring through the alley, taking out one of the men and then the other. Just as your feet hit the ground, you nail the last one with a knife, turning to face down the alley with your arms crossed. And there he is, walking confidently with a gun in hand.

Of course, he beat you to it.

Jason’s eyes widen behind his helmet. He did not expect to see you tonight. Kind of like last night, seeing you throws him off. It’s a bit jarring somehow. Gotham might be a big city but you travel in the same circles, it was bound to happen. Just…two nights in a row seems…odd.

“I had that covered.” You state through your mask.

Jason can taste his heartbeat in his throat as he keeps closing the distance between you. Your mask always muffled your voice a little but it’s still his favorite sound. He can feel his cheeks burning and a smile desperate to cross his lips. Jason bites it back, trying to keep his composure.

“Where the fuck did you even come from?” Jason quips back.

He is eternally grateful for the helmet. You wre always best at reading him. You could read every expression that ever washed over his face no matter how subtle it was. It was as if you could read each other's minds half the time and he is so glad you can't see him. His eyes are scanning you over, noticing nothing too new in the suit. It still fits you just as it always did, perfectly fitted in the all right places. His eyes go back up to your face, the hood is pulled onto your head. He catches the yellowing around one of your eyes and he almost asks what happened before he swallows it down. It's not entirely his place to ask at the moment but he thinks you're still just as beautiful today as you were the first time he saw you and the last time he saw you.

You point to the roof. “Clearly. And you?” You question, keeping your voice flat and curious, trying to conceal your own nerves.

Jason points a thumb over his shoulder. “Clearly.” He echoes as he stands next to you.

It all clicks then, this was definitely a setup by Dick. Of all fucking people, Dick Grayson is doing this shit? Jason swears up and down this is getting ridiculous. Bruce, Molly, Gar, Dick? They are all trying to get you two to communicate and…maybe they have a point even if Jason never wants to admit it. Not when two of those people are Bruce and Dick. But, he can’t focus on that or how this is sending his head into a tailspin.

He needs to help Tim which means he can’t let his feelings for you get in the way even if ignoring them is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. He has to act normal and like being next to you doesn’t make him want to explode. He needs to keep his cool, keep the smile from ripping apart his lips because even if this is a setup and he should be mad, he misses you so fucking much it physically pains him. He can’t find himself to be mad because you’ll never abandon Tim so even if you don’t speak to Jason while you help him, at least he gets to see you as you. Like old times even if it doesn’t last and for that, Jason is happy.

Jason reaches behind his head, releasing the helmet before he takes it off and you swear you swallowed your heart. He looks so good. “Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Jason calls, eyes locked on Tim and you think you’ve melted at the sound of his voice.

His voice is somehow better than you remember it. A little calloused, a little rough, but not too deep. It always fit him so well and you’ve never been so thankful to have a mask that covers the lower half of your mouth because your lips are curling into the most uncontrollable smile. Every piece of reservation you had about seeing him completely flies out of the window.

Jason Todd has always had his type of gravitation pull like a planet lost in the universe and you’ve just been sucked right back into it.

You miss him so fucking much.

Tim looks down to his chest, right at the R symbol before he looks back to Jason. “I’m Robin.” Tim states as if Jason should have known.

The subtle hint of a smile comes over Jason’s lips seeing someone else in the Robin suit. It’s weird because it almost feels…hurtful. It hurts a little seeing someone else in a position where he was, not in a jealous way but in a way that he is reminded that was him. He was Robin and he fucked up and now he’s not. It hurts in the way he’s reminded of it being ripped away from his bloody hands. The suit is different, Jason clocks almost every difference in the first few seconds but it is similar. Jason was beaten to death in something similar with the same mantle. There’s almost this part of him that even worries about it. Robin didn’t work for Dick. He didn’t die as Robin but it didn’t work for him. Jason was killed. Where’s that going to leave Tim?

On the other hand though, there is something about someone else taking up Robin that feels good. Jason died but Robin didn’t. Robin never had to die with Jason and he shouldn’t. The people need a Robin and he doesn’t really know Tim but you do and Gar does. He trusts you both and Tim looks thrilled to be here. It’s a mix but there is something kind of nice seeing the resurrection of Robin.

“Hey.” You chime as you walk closer to him.

Tim’s smile splits his face. “Hey, how’d you know I’d be here?”

“Molly tracked you the second a Robin showed up. Knew it was you.” You laugh softly before you pull him into a gentle hug. “You should have told me.” You say as you pull away, your hands coming to his shoulders as you look over the suit, noticing all the difference between this one and Jason’s.

“Yeah, I thought I could handle this.” Tim chuckles sheepishly, realizing he was a little in over his head tonight but not lacking in any of his confidence to do this job.

“Clearly, you were wrong.” Jason closes the distance between you. “You’re lucky we showed up when we did.” Jason stands right beside you as you drop your hands from his shoulders, maybe you looking over the suit makes Jason want to chew his tongue out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I got that.” Tim nods his head. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” The smile reaches your eyes as you beam back at Tim.

Jason’s eyes narrow at you slightly. You seem awfully happy. He knows Tim is your friend but you just seem overly happy or maybe he’s in his own head about it. He just remembers that day picking you up from Titans Tower and it was…similar. It’s like he’s getting stabbed in the chest and the base of his throat knowing you were not happy to see him tonight. The very thought of your feelings disappearing makes him feel like his rib cage might collapse on itself. So, he pushes it away as far as he possibly can and bites back his own words, trying to just be relieved you look happy instead of pissed off Dick set you up. He’s just thankful you haven’t run away. Yet.

“What’re you doing here anyways?” Jason asks with the nod of his head at Tim.

“Dick sent me.” Tim starts before explaining this whole fake plan thing Dick sent him on while you and Jason pretend to act as if you have no clue what he’s talking about.

Jason nods his head. “Well, it's getting pretty late. I got a place. Come on.” Jason jerks his head down the alley before he starts walking, not even waiting for a response.

“Wait, really?” Tim asks with hope.

“Before I change my mind.” Jason states, his back fully towards you and Tim before he puts the helmet on.

Tim’s eyes are wide with excitement. He gets to work the Red Hood?! He knows it’s Jason but he was the second Robin and he doesn’t even know much about him. Gar and you talk about him and he met him a few times but this is totally different. Red Hood is going to help him with this?

“You can ride me with. I’ve got an extra helmet. I figured you’d need a ride.” You put a hand on his shoulder before nodding towards Jason. “My bike’s not far.”

The three of you make your way to Jason’s bike that’s closer and then to yours before you and Tim follow Jason to his safe house. It’s the one you took him to when Crane kidnapped him. You stare up at the building for a few seconds, feeling something a bit bitter in the back of your throat over it. Jason can move on, you hope with everything in you that he is, but as someone who cares about him, it's your job to be bitter and pissed about everything Crane did to him forever.

Tim and you follow Jason into the building, now the three of you in your street clothes after taking a detour to change. You've almost had your eyes practically glued to Jason ever since. And it’s taking everything in Jason to focus on the task at hand and not stare at you with a million questions.

The hallway is messy. There’s stuff on the floor everywhere and even though Jason is walking ahead of you, you can’t help but narrow your eyes at him. Surely, he has time to pick up the floor instead of kicking things to the side as he walks by. Jason is always so meticulous with things he likes but he just can’t help the mess in a hallway or his room for some reason.

“Venta?” Jason asks, keeping his steady pace ahead of you and Tim.

“Yeah.” Tim starts. “He lives down on Harbor.”

“Never heard of ‘em.” Jason states, walking through the hallway where he has a laptop set up before he starts typing away at something.

“Dick says he’s got information on the Organization.” Tim explains as he stands beside Jason, resting his arm on the open counter space.

“He sent you to get intel on the Organization?” You ask.

“Yeah.” Tim says casually, but almost like he wants to be offended you'd question it but then he looks between you and Jason. “Maybe we could team on this.” Tim suggests. “The three of us.”

Jason looks to him, struggling not to glance at you before he turns around and starts walking away swiftly. “I don’t team anymore.” Jason says as the laptop makes a noise, you peaking over at it as Tim trails after Jason.

Security system, and a nice one, too. It looks at least similar to the one used at Wayne Manor and in the Batcave. There seems to be some sort of cloaking system to shield his location from anyone who might be looking for him. You've heard he’s made several big-name enemies in Gotham already which is not surprising. Gotham’s newest crime lord is going to take some heat. Of course, he's protecting himself. You're actually relieved by the system. Maybe the security system lets Jason get some sort of sleep.

“Security activated.” The computer sounds through the speakers above the three of you.

“You don’t understand.” Tim defends while you move to catch up with them. “Brother Blood put my boyfriend in a coma.” Tim watches as Jason climbs the stairs before he quickly follows suit, you right behind him.

Jason knows he has to play this off, even if Tim is going to nag him all night. If Jason immediately jumps to help him, Tim won't learn a damn thing and he'll probably figure it out. Jason has heard all about Tim's intelligence and detective skills. If Tim is going to be Robin, Jason's not going to make it easy.

“How long you been doing this Robin thing?” Jason asks.

“Um…” Tim stutters as him and you enter one of the rooms with Jason, Jason still several feet ahead of you. There’s workout equipment, monitors, a fridge. It looks like this is where he trains and keeps his eyes on Gotham. “Not long.” Tim says.

“A couple weeks?” Jason asks as he looks over his monitors on the far end of the room.

“Not quite.” Tim states, looking around the room.

“A week?” Jason asks.

“Last night was my first night.” Tim admits, almost sounding defeated.

You nearly cackle. “Sorry, what?” You spit back as Jason turns around. The two of you exchange a look of surprise and confusion. Dick did not say Tim had no training.

"Yeah..." Tim looks between you and Jason, unsure where you're going to take this conversation. He hopes it'll get you both on his side. He could use the help.

“Oh, the suit did look fresh off the rack.” Jason states. This is going to take a lot of time and effort. “If I were you, I’d get out of Gotham. Take some reps in like Tucson or some shit.” Jason states as he leans his lower back against the table with the monitors, his hands holding the edge of the table.

“Shit’s been quite a bit messy lately and the Bat’s outa town.” You explain as you cross your arms over your chest.

“Dick sent me here to find Venta.” Tim nearly cuts you both off.

“Your funeral.” Jason shakes his head. “You can crash here if you don’t have plans.” Jason gestures a hand out, offering his place for Tim. “I mean, there’s eggs, beer, cheese.” Jason gestures quickly to the fridge sitting on the wall facing Jason on the opposite side of the room.

“That is a lovely diet, Jason.” You mutter back, earning you a bit of a glare from Jason.

It's not exactly like Jason to not have some sort of variety. Generally, he eats pretty healthy in order to maintain the muscle and physical fitness to do this whole thing but eggs and cheese aren't exactly the healthiest thing, especially with the addition of beer. You know he's been busy with Red Hood, helping Barbara. But, you wonder if this is one of those things Molly and Gar are worried about. You make a mental note of it to ask later.

“Been busy.” Jason quips back, almost gauging how you’ll respond.

“I can see that.” Your eyes widen as your hands gesture around.

“Thanks.” Tim interrupts you, unsure if this will be an argument or some weird banter thing you two do. Tim sets the case with the suit against the wall and that’s when he sees a clear board with a cipher on it that looks like Jason’s been trying to crack. “You working on something?” Tim gestures towards it as he starts walking towards it.

“No. I’m paying the fucking cable bills.” Jason quips back.

“Need some help?” Tim asks, his hands in his pockets as he looks over the cipher.

“Since you’re being nosy,” Jason starts before he walks over to Tim, you joining on the opposite side. “Shimmer’s been pulling off high-end heists all over Gotham.” Jason explains. “Sending ciphers as clues.”

Tim looks over the cipher a bit more and he’s got it. He reaches over for the eraser next to the board and starts erasing some of the code Jason has cracked.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jason questions.

“You got your A right but your coding’s off.” Tim explains making you stifle a laugh.

“Fuck you.” Jason defends as he watches Tim.

“It’s a Fibonacci Sequence.” Tim states. “Each number is the sum of two numbers that precedes it.” Tim explains. Jason and you take a step back to watch Tim work. “K-L-E-I-D-S-C-O-P-E.” Tim spells it out, writing each letter. Tim takes a step back, a proud smile on his face while the three of you look over the word.

“Kaleidoscope.” Jason states. “Oh, shit.” Jason starts, rushing over to this phone sitting not the table beside the board.

“I just had fresh eyes.” Tim states, still looking at the board.

“Right, nothing to do with being a genius or anything.” You quip back.

“Hey, Babs.” Jason says with the phone now pressed to his ear. “Uh, Kaleidoscope Auction House. That’s the target for Shimmer’s next hit.” Jason explains before he pauses, looking back at Tim for just a second. “And I’ll take my usual percentage.” Jason says before he hangs up the phone. “So, you are really smart.” Jason states.

“Told you.” You mutter.

“It’s nothing, really.” Tim brushes it off.

“Right.” Jason nods his head. “So, what’s your plan anyways? Stick around Gotham until you find this guy?” Jason asks before he walks over to the fridge, you pull up a seat by the monitors.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Tim shrugs. “I asked around tonight but no one seems to know what I’m talking about.”

Jason nods his head, beer now in hand before he opens it. “Want one?” Jason asks. "Water, Gatorade?" Jason offers before his eyes go back to you. "I have other shit."

You roll your eyes, pathetically putting your hands up in defense, keeping your mouth shut this time. For once, you can't quite tell if your subtle jabs are actual jabs or if it's what you usually do. At this point, you're too afraid to ask because either answer sounds a bit too much.

“No, thanks.” Tim states.

Jason pulls a blue Gatorade from the fridge before crossing the room and offering it to you. It wasn't even a thought Jason had because you've always been someone who will not accept an offer of a drink and then drink his. It was more of a reflex to grab the Gatorade for you. A gentle smile pulls at your lips as you take it softly from him, careful not to let your hand brush his.

“Asking the wrong people probably.” Jason answers as he leans against the table in the space right beside you. “Or they don’t you seriously.” Jason uncaps his beer with the remark.

“Second one.” You state as you uncap your bottle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tim looks back at the both of you.

“You got your ass kicked tonight.” You state. “I got a feeling you aren’t very good at being intimidating.” You shrug your shoulder casually before you take a drink.

“Hey,” Tim gestures toward you. “I figured out all of you guys and got you to cave about it. I’m pretty good, I think.”

“You’re my friend and I felt bad for lying.” You chortle before you take a sip. "I was at no point ever intimated by you."

“If she didn’t want you to know, she never would have led you to believe otherwise.” Jason takes his own drink knowing damn well you could have, at the very least, hid your own identity from Tim if you really wanted to.

“Still, one of them would have told me! I’m Robin.” Tim tries to defend himself, his voice almost defensive until it finally hits enthusiastic with the mention of 'Robin'.

The way he says it makes you burst out laughing. The amount of times you've heard the words 'I'm Robin' with so much pride and enthusiasm makes it funny. It’s the innocence and confidence Robin brings. Tim isn’t as…cheerful, enthusiastic about it as Jason was. Tim has seen the horrors already but…there is something familiar about it that makes you laugh. You hope he's able to keep that.

Jason thinks he’s melted into the ground with your laugh. The hard part of this whole thing is not going to be training Tim. That’ll be easy. The hardest part is going to pretend like it isn’t killing him to act like this is all fine with him and you. It is killing him not to poke fun at you or ask about everything. This is going to be torture.

“That what I sounded like?” Jason asks quietly.

“Kind of.” You nod your head at him, a soft and beaming smile directed right at him.

“What?” Tim questions.

“Nothing.” You brush it off. “Okay, look, why don’t you stay here with Jason for tonight and I’ll come by tomorrow. We’ll go look together.”

“You do teams?” Tim quips.

“No.” You shake your head, knowing that is a bald-faced lie. “But you’re my friend and I help my friends.”

“Okay, yeah, cool.” Tim smiles widely. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” You nod softly before clearing your throat. “I’m gonna head out then. Uh…” You pause for a second before you get to your feet. “Molly is probably waiting for me so I’ll just text you what time to be ready.” You offer Jason a nervous nod and closed-mouth smile.

You make your way to Tim, giving him a quick hug before you head for the door. Jason almost lets you. But, seeing you and feeling this way? It’s not what he wants. He doesn’t want you to be here just because Dick asked you. He doesn’t want you to be here just for Tim. He can’t just pretend this is all fine.

“I’ll, uh, walk you out.” Jason pushes off the table, earning you to turn around, raising a brow at him.

“Uh...yeah, yeah, okay.” You nod slowly. “Thanks.”

“Don’t touch anything.” Jason warns Tim before catching up to you.

You and Jason walk side-by-side out of the room and your stomach is swirling, turning into a goo. You're nearly vibrating from nervousness being around him again. And he looks so good. He looks healthy. The last time you saw him, he was covered in scrapes and bruises but there aren’t any on his face. You know there have to be some under his clothes but his face looks good and his cheeks aren’t as hollowed as they were before. His hair is fluffy just as it always was. He looks good.

Jason glances at you and Jason Todd is not one to get nervous but he is so nervous right now he’s stuffing his hands in his pockets just because his hands are sweating too much. It’s you and he has no reason to be nervous but his heart is thundering in his chest and he wants to smile ear-to-ear. Everything is different but it almost doesn’t feel that way. His heart is beating for you right now just as it did from day one to day 100. It only ever beats for you.

The two of you reach the door, standing and facing each other. There should be sort of 'see you later' exchange that happens but neither of you entirely know how to do that. Not with each other. You were friends, then friends with benefits, then together, and now you're exes. A handshake still feels far too professional given the intimacy that stands between you and the horrors you've endured together. A wave feels fucking pathetic. And a hug seems a bit out of the question.

It's not even like either of you want to do this whole 'see you later' thing. You both have endless questions and if tonight ends, tomorrow will begin and it might be different again. Jason doesn't want to risk anything in this. So, instead of fumbling his way through a goodbye that would haunt him in his sleep for the next ten years, he starts conversation just to stall you a little.

“What’d you do?” Jason jerks his head, pointing towards the bruise on your eye and he almost touches it. He has to force his hands to stay in his pockets.

“Oh, uh,” You smile softly, touching the yellow with your fingertips. “Molly, actually.”

“No fucking way.” Jason chuckles.

“Yeah, uh, been training her a bit.” Your brows furrow just for a second before you lick your lips. “She asked just to be prepared walking home or some shit. Um…and uh, obviously, you taught her a thing or two. But, she actually fell and I got an elbow to the face.”

Jason lets out a booming laugh and you forget how to breathe. It sounds just as lovely as it did before. Booming and loud, thunder shaking your rib cage free of all its pain.

“It was an accident?”

“Yeah.” You nod quickly. “Fucking painful one. This shit is two weeks out. My eye was swollen shut for like two days!”

Jason keeps laughing and his nose scrunches. You swear he’s still the cutest person to ever walk the earth. How could anyone not be in love with him?

“Sorry, you alright?” Jason asks, but the smile is still ripping across his face as he licks his lips.

“I am fine, thank you.” You nod your head, a soft smile on display. “You, uh, you look good, Jay.”

The nickname sends his head into a spiral. He can’t believe after everything you’ve done to each other and the time that’s passed, you can still make him feel this way. You make him feel like everything is gonna be alright somehow. And he makes you so happy. Something so simple and it’s just joy.

“Thanks.” Jason nods his head. “So do you.” His eyes soften with the ease of his words.

“Thank you.” You pull in a breath.

There’s a silence that falls over you and something hits you both. This is a request from Dick. It wasn’t supposed to be a reunion for you. It just happened to work out that way. Jason still did all of that and you still hurt him and betrayed him. Neither one of you had the courage to call the other. It took Tim coming here needing help. Something about that really hurts. Your minds take over even as happy as you are to see each other, to feel the love blossom through your chests. But, you look at each other and wonder how you could ever ask for forgiveness, especially with each other looking so good. So, you don’t. You punish yourselves.

“Molly’s helping me, by the way.” You blurt out on purpose, knowing it’ll piss him off.

You aren't trying to hurt him, you're just pissing him off. Jason will snap and fire back and you think you'll deserve it. Jason Todd has been very good at pushing everyone away and you've been very good at running. But, you know Jason expects you to run. If he ever wanted to forgive you for some reason, he'll know exactly what to do. So, you take a page out of his book and push. It'll catch him off guard, piss him off, and it'll be what you deserve anyway. You push.

Jason shakes his head, eyes widening. “What the fuck does that mean?” He snaps, searching your face for any indication this is some sort of joke.

“She helps me as Bluejay.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Why the fuck would you let her do that?!” Jason nearly demands as he crosses his arms.

Molly is his friend, too. He knew something was going on but he didn’t think Molly was actually helping. At this point, he's pretty sure the two of you have lost your damn minds. Molly didn't even agree with Batman and Robin and now she's helping? All people do in this path is get hurt or worse. Jason isn't going to give it up and he'd never ask anyone to. But, why the fuck would you let Molly help you? If he knows you at all, he knows you shouldn't be happy about it.

“She asked.” You keep your voice nonchalant, knowing that'll irritate him even more.

“Oh, so fuck it, right? She asked and you’re just gonna let her? And what the fuck are you gonna do when someone figures it out, huh?” Jason seethes as he tosses his right arm to the side.

“Oh, but it’s fine for Tim, right?” You question back as you blink at Jason. He doesn't seem to have a single issue with Tim, just Molly which is some of the ammo you were looking to get out of this.

“He wouldn’t leave any of you guys alone!” Jason defends, his hands shooting out to his sides. Molly and Gar have said they're worried bout you and while he's getting pissed off, he's also growing worried. Starting an argument with him is very uncharacteristic. “Molly isn’t a fighter! You’re putting her in harm’s way!” Jason shakes his head before clocking the Tim remark entirely. “I don’t have a fucking say on if Tim’s Robin, by the way. He’s your fucking friend, too! The fuck are you mad at me for?”

“But you were the previous Robin!” You snap back and you aren’t even sure why you do it. You don't want Robin to be the topic of the argument because that isn't fair. You just can't help it, your mouth is moving faster than your guilt and reason. “You’re not bothered by it at all but I have Molly working on a computer and that’s not fine?” You spit back.

Ow.

If there's anything Jason knows about punishing himself, it's what pushing looks like. He's not entirely sure what is setting you off but there's something. You're hitting a low blow bringing Robin into it and while he doesn't want to fight, it hits an exposed nerve. Jason Todd has always hated feeling exposed.

Jason shakes his head with a bitter laugh. “You haven’t fucking talked to me in over a month but now you think you know how I fucking feel about a Robin?” Jason lets out a scoff. “And yeah because Molly doesn’t need to be in the fucking middle of some bullshit you won’t be able to handle. You’ll get hurt or some bullshit, go to her, and you’ll be tracked. You don’t have a security system, bet your locks are shit, what’re you gonna do, huh?”

“Yeah, well, phones work both ways, Jason.” You spit back, choosing to ignore the second half of the argument. He isn't wrong and you know it. “Molly wouldn’t leave me alone about it and ya know, in my experience, the more we let people not help when they are adamant, they do it anyway and then they die or get hurt.” You scoff back. “Seemed better this way.” Sam nearly mutters it bitterly.

Jason can feel his heart breaking again because this isn't about Molly. He knew it wasn't but it's still about him. He's thinking you're not over the fact that he died which you should not be. But, it almost feels like you're choosing to blame him for his own death and that's something he never thought you would do.

“The fuck is that supposed mean?” Jason asks, his voice rough and angered but he’s not yelling. That’s always the most hurtful form of Jason Todd.

Too far. Too far. Too far.

You never intended to hurt him. It's just...maybe there's a lot of unsaid things from both of you because you both were always so worried about fucking it up. What's left to fuck up now?

You backpedal anyway because it is not fair. It's not his fault. “Nothing.” You shake your head.

“No, tell me what you really mean.” Jason keeps his stance, his voice unwavering.

Jason sees it as you blaming him but that's not true. The way you see it, if people want to help, maybe they're better off to help. Jason and you were held captive and dropped from a Skyscraper because you wanted to help and Dick said no. Jason wanted to be Robin and help and Bruce ripped it away. Tim wanted to help but everyone said no. Anytime someone really wants to help, they do and then they get hurt or worse. Molly was going to try and help one way or another. This way, you can keep an eye on her. Though, you can't quite bring yourself to explain it all.

“You. Me. Tim. Dick. Gar. Rachel.” You explain. “All of us.”

“And we were fucking thrown into this shit. All of us.” Jason argues his side. “I sure as shit didn’t pick it--”

“But you would have!” You scream back because it all just hurts again. He's lying to himself if he doesn't think he wouldn't have picked Robin if it were a choice. “Don’t pretend like Robin was some burden thrown onto you because he wasn’t! You loved it. You still do. Bruce may have weaponized you but he offered it to you and you took it.”

He knows you're right. Of course, he would have picked it. It was the coolest and greatest thing to happen to him at the time. He was useful and he was enough. He was finally fucking good at something and he was finally good for something. It made him feel like he belonged somewhere even if it didn't last. Of course, he'd do it again. As hard as it is, as tortuous as the last few months have been, he doesn't think he'd do anything differently.

“Fine, what about you?” Jason quips back. “Dick gave you a fucking choice. I remember that.” Jason scoffs. “You’d take it all back? If you knew how this ended.”

“Of fucking course I would, Jason!” Your voice finally cracks. “Yeah, I’d never fucking ask you to help me and I never would have went after Deathstroke with you or Jerry or any of this shit. If I could go back, I’d undo it.” You pull in a shaky breath and lower your voice. “It hurts all the time. I’d undo it.” You give him a sad and defeated shrug.

It hurts to say it but a part of you, really thinks you'd undo it if given the chance. Maybe you would just tell Dick no. Maybe it wouldn't be like this today. But, there is a larger part of you thinking you wouldn't be able to undo it. A lot of good came out of you being a Titan. You found this family and maybe had you just said no, it wouldn't be like this. You've been able to save a lot of people since being back on Gotham and doesn't that make it all worth it? The greater good should win.

You're looking at Jason and you wouldn't undo that. A lot of good came out of you being a Titan. Finding a family and new friends, Molly, learning how to properly fend for yourself and knowing you don't have to. It's all good. And Jason. A lot of good came out of being a Titan and Jason is so intertwined in that, you'd never be able to undo it without undoing you two.

You would never be able to.

You don't want to and this whole argument was just so stupid.

Jason looks to the ground and he knows what you mean but so much of you is intertwined in doing this that undoing that, almost feels like undoing you two. He knows that's not what you mean and you're angry over something Jason isn't sure what. You've talked about it. It's just harder today. It doesn't stop it from hurting though.

“Why put that on Molly then?” Jason brings his voice back down.

“Because you’d do it all over again.” You say softly. “Because Dick would do it over again. And Bruce and Tim and Kory and…all of them without even thinking twice about it. I think even Gar would. Molly won’t regret it and you know that.” You strengthen your voice.

This is stupid. He’s supposed to be doing better here but he fights you anyway. The punishment to himself and you started it. But…it doesn’t feel good to be here again. He doesn’t want to be here. He has fought tooth and nail to be alone and now that he is, he doesn’t like it too much. It hurts to be here alone. It hurts to be here without you. Jason promised you he’d make it up to you one day and yeah maybe he could have called and you could have called. But, neither of you did. Jason tells the voices in his head to shut the fuck up and he bites back at them.

“Just…make sure she’s safe.” Jason swallows thickly, catching you off guard. Jason never backs down. “You’re probably right. Molly can be pretty persistent.” He backs down for himself and for you. He won't let you punish yourself this way. You never let him.

“Yeah…” You trail off, tugging the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands as guilt eats away at your bones. “I didn’t want her help.” You whisper, caving, too. It doesn’t matter what you think you deserve and don’t deserve. Jason doesn’t deserve someone to push him away if he’s trying. That’s not fair. “But…it doesn’t work telling people no so…I make sure she’s okay.” You nod your head. “She is only my eyes in the sky. No one even knows I have someone on the inside.”

“Good.” Jason nods his head. “Yeah…” Jason trails off, his stare going to the floor, the white streak hanging loosely over his forehead.

One of you has to bring it up. One of you has to bring up the time you’ve spent apart. One of you has to say something besides the unsaid words that are nearly strangling you both. It will always feel giddy with a sense of dread and awkwardness unless you do. You always apologize.

“I’m sorry for not calling.” Jason states, catching you off guard and it’s like he’s just stacked twenty more pounds of guilt onto your pile. A lump grows in your throat and not once did you ever actually blame him for not calling you. You think he shouldn’t in order to protect himself. “I just…got busy and I don’t know.” Jason shrugs his right shoulder. “Should have.”

“I-I’m sorry, too.” You nod your head. “I, uh…yeah, busy.” You nod your head, swallowing the lump in your throat and biting back tears.

He has nothing to be sorry for.

Jason’s heart sinks because there’s something wrong. There is always something in the way you stutter around him that gives it away. It got to the point where you almost never did. You almost never tugged your sleeves down. It’s more of a nervous tick than anything and now you're doing it again. You're too exposed around him again and Jason can’t help but feel it’s all his fault and it’s too late. The thing you had, that strength that ruins mountains, has just wilted away. He thinks it might be his biggest regret.

“I’m really sorry.” You say more clearly this time. "For, uh, f-for not calling and uh, arguing with you just now. I, uh...I-I don't know." You tug the collar of your hoodie down just a bit, feeling suffocated by the fabric but then Jason sees the silver of a necklace around your neck.

You still wear it?

You open your mouth to talk but Jason cuts you off.

“Is that the necklace I gave you?” He blurts out before he can even process it.

He needs to know.

You look down, seeing the chain stare back a you before you pull the pendant from your hoodie and Jason wants to combust.

“Yeah.” You state, the infinity charm staring back a you. “Uh…” A smile pulls at your lips. You never take it off even when it all feels hopeless because maybe, just maybe, it's not just the cliche of infinity of you but some sort of symbol of hope that you'll find your way back to each other one day. “I know we haven’t talked and this shit feels awkward and shit but uh, I don’t know.” You lick your lips. “Figured Molly would call if you something happened and then…you’d know.”

You're realizing how dumb this whole thing. Maybe you can’t have what you really want. Maybe that’s not how this is meant to be. But you know he checks up on you and you know he knows you do the exact same. It’s silly and ridiculous for you to tiptoe over each other as if you haven’t witnessed each other at your best and worst. You held his lifeless body in your hands. Jason saves your life. Being a part from each other…not worth it.

A smile pulls at his lips before it turns into a smirk. “Someone’s gotta be prepared with your habit of being kidnapped.” Maybe it gives him hope, too.

“Shut the fuck up.” You groan. “It’s been months.” You can't help the smile that crosses your lips.

“You’re due.” Jason quips back.

You let out a laugh, sending a chill down Jason's spine. “I am good on that thanks.”

Jason tilts his back, feeling the same as you. This whole thing is fucking stupid. He needs to swallow his pride and he just doesn’t want you to leave. Despite his habit of spiraling into self-deprecating thoughts, he knows there has to be something left between you. Since the very first day, there has been something there. So, maybe you try this friend thing again. Maybe it'll work out.

“This is fucking stupid, right?” Jason laughs. “Not talking and shit.” He clarifies.

“Yeah.” You nod with a laugh. “Molly and Gar and Tim and Dick have been telling me that.”

“Molly, Gar, and Dick.” Jason groans. “Fuck, even Bruce.”

You let out a laugh. “Okay, you know it’s bad when Bruce is over here giving you advice on this shit.”

“Right?” Jason lets out a scoff. “We good?” Jason asks with hopeful eyes.

“Always were, Jay.” You smile softly at him and in that moment, you make a silent promise to yourself that you don’t care about your heart but you will guard his with every knife you have. “Friends who actually talk and act like it this time?” You question.

“Yeah, need someone to nag me.” Jason sticks his hand out.

“Oh, well, if you insist. Clean this fucking place, it’s a mess!” You take his hand in yours, shaking it softly.

“Since we’re friends, you could help.” Jason quips back, looking at the hallway that resembles the aftermath of a tornado.

You take your hand back. “You could go fuck yourself.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jason grins back at you with furrowed brows.

Your brows raise with a splitting smile. “Ask your hand.”

Jason let out a chortle. “Fair.”

“Okay, seriously, I gotta get back. Molly will have too many questions if I stay any longer.” You nod your head, already mentally preparing for the amount of questions Molly will have and knowing none of them will actually pertain to Tim. “I’ll be back tomorrow, you gonna come?”

“Nah.” Jason shakes his head, figuring he'll let the two of you catch up by you showing him the ropes alone for a bit. “You guys go. Dick call you?”

“Mhm, you?” You pretend like you don’t know, mostly to keep the peace between the batboys.

“Yep.” Jason nods his head. “Setup?”

“Absolutely.” You laugh. "Dude still hasn't told Kory but he's setting us up."

"We have to repay the favor then, I guess." Jason offers you a wild and menacing grin.

"Oh, definitely." You nod quickly.

Jason shakes his head with a laugh. "Just gotta get Tim into shape first."

“We’ll get him ready in no time.” You beam back at him with the scrunch of your nose.

“We’ll start training when you guys get back tomorrow but follow my lead.” Jason offers, already ten steps ahead with a plan.

“Because Tim can’t know.” You finish.

“I got an idea.” Jason nods.

“You always have a plan.”

“Always.” The word babe almost slips from his lips.

“Okay, Jay.” Your cheeks burn, sensing it, too. “I will see you tomorrow.” You nod once before you turn on your heels and exit the building.

Jason watches you and his thinks he’s breathless. There’s something reminiscent of the first day he met you. Not entirely knowing much about you. He knows about you today but there’s a gap of time he’s missing. There are two actually because he doesn't know all of the details in the time he died. There are voids he’s missing and what’s changed about you because of them? It almost feels like that first day because his bones are vibrating with excitement and he can’t wait to see you again. It feels like it did then and he would love to keep chasing that feeling.

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itscoucouharry · 22 days ago

Text

Rewritten Scars- Ch. 3

Hey yall so I really wrote this series just for this part as it was written before the rest of the story was. Please enjoy!:)

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Chapter 3: Scar Tissue

You were wrapping up a presentation in the conference room with your team when the door opened, and Harry stepped in. His gaze swept the room, but when it landed on you, his expression hardened with determination.

“Can I borrow Y/N for a moment?” he asked, his voice calm but firm.

Your manager, who had been mid-sentence, blinked in surprise. “Of course, Mr. Styles.”

You bristled but plastered on a neutral expression as you followed Harry out of the room. He led you into his office—sleek and spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly, you were alone with him.

“What now?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Harry didn’t sit behind his desk or lean casually like he had the first time. Instead, he stood in front of you, his expression unreadable.

“I get it,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t want my apology. And honestly, I don’t blame you. But I need you to hear me out—for your sake, not mine.”

“For my sake?” You laughed bitterly. “This ought to be good.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as though he were weighing his next words carefully. “When I saw your name on the candidate list for this job, I almost didn’t call you back. Not because you weren’t qualified—you were the most qualified person we interviewed. But because I knew what I’d done to you. I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me, and I didn’t want to drag you into anything that might make you uncomfortable.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “But you did call me.”

“I did,” he admitted. “Because I thought… maybe this was my chance to make things right. Or at least try.”

His honesty took the wind out of your sails. You hated that it was harder to stay angry when he sounded so damn sincere. But you weren’t ready to let him off the hook just yet.

“Do you think you can just erase years of bullying because you feel bad now?” you demanded. “Do you have any idea how much damage you did to me?”

“I do,” he said quietly. “And that’s what I have to live with. I don’t expect you to forgive me, Y/N. I don’t even think I deserve it. But I do want you to know that I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve grown up. I’ve learned a lot about myself—and about the people I’ve hurt.”

His green eyes were steady, almost pleading, but he didn’t move closer. He stayed rooted in place, as if giving you space to decide how to respond.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, the anger you’d kept simmering all week bubbling to the surface. “Are you fucking serious right now, Harry? You think one heartfelt speech is going to fix years of torment? You think I’ll just clap you on the back and say, ‘Oh, it’s okay, Harry, we all make mistakes’? Fuck that.”

Harry flinched at your words, his face hardening, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you continued, your voice rising with every word. “You don’t fucking get it. I used to dread waking up in the morning because I knew I’d have to see your smug fucking face. I couldn’t walk down a hallway without feeling like shit because of you and your little gang of assholes. I couldn’t eat in the cafeteria without worrying about what new insult you’d throw my way in front of everyone. Do you have any idea what that does to a person? Do you even fucking care?”

“I do care,” he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by your own.

“Bullshit,” you snapped, stepping closer, your anger making you reckless. “If you cared so much, why the fuck did you do it? What was the point, huh? Did it make you feel big? Did tearing me down make you feel like a goddamn king?”

Harry’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “I was a stupid kid—”

“No!” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “You don’t get to hide behind that excuse. I was a kid too, Harry! And you ruined me. You made me hate myself. Do you know how fucking hard it was to pick up the pieces of what you shattered? To look in the mirror and not hear your voice in my head calling me a fat pig, or telling me I was worthless? Do you?”

He opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.

“Do you know what it’s like to go to therapy because some asshole in high school made you feel like you didn’t deserve to exist? Because that’s what I had to do. I spent years trying to unlearn the shit you drilled into my brain, and even now, it still lingers. So don’t stand there in your fancy office and tell me you care. Because if you cared back then, I wouldn’t be fucking scarred now.”

Harry’s face paled, his eyes wide with something that looked like genuine guilt. He took a deep breath, his voice shaking when he finally spoke. “Y/N… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—”

“Of course you didn’t,” you cut him off, your tone icy. “You didn’t care enough to notice. You were too busy playing the fucking hero in your own story while I was the villain you could mock. Well, guess what? I’m not that scared, humiliated kid anymore. And you don’t get to act like you’re the victim now because you suddenly feel guilty. You’re not the victim. I am.”

The room was heavy with silence as your words settled between you. Harry looked like he’d been punched in the gut, his shoulders slumping under the weight of your fury.

“I’m not here for you, Harry,” you said, your voice cold. “I’m here for this job, because I’ve worked my ass off to get here. Don’t think for a second that your apology erases what you did, because it doesn’t. And don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

You turned to leave, your hands trembling with adrenaline, but his voice stopped you.

“I know I can’t undo the damage I caused,” he said quietly. “But I swear, Y/N, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t regret taking this job. And I’ll spend every day proving that I’m not that person anymore.”

You froze, his words hanging in the air. Slowly, you turned to look at him, his face etched with an expression you’d never seen before: shame.

“Good,” you said finally, your voice hard. “Because you’ve got a hell of a lot to make up for.”

Without another word, you walked out of his office, slamming the door behind you. As you made your way back to your desk, your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing.

He thought he could apologize and move on. He thought it would be that simple.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easy. Not after everything he’d done.

#harry styles one shot #harry styles x plus size reader #plus size reader #liam payne x reader #niall horan imagine #one direction #harry styles #harry styles angst #fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #reader is plus sized #harry styles blurb #harry styles series

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 6 months ago

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☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Thirty-Seven

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Alcohol.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.4k

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"Are you sure he invited us?" you ask, giving your fiancé a very stern and scrutinous look. You were on your way to Kuraigana Island, Mihawk's place of residence, and you were wondering if the poor man even knew of Shanks' plans.

A smirk tugs at Shanks' lips. "Mihawk? He's aware of everything. Trust me, he's probably already preparing some sarcastic remark for when we arrive. Did I mention he has a very impressive wine cellar?"

You raise an eyebrow. "So our wedding will be entirely based on the fact that Mihawk has impeccable taste in wine?"

Shanks chuckles. "Not entirely. Mihawk's an old friend. It's good to catch up once in a while. He's also a captain which means he can officiate our wedding, treasure. Don't worry, everything will work out." With that Shanks leaves you at the stern, glowering at the idea of dropping unannounced.

Well, the Red Force will continue to sail smoothly towards the dark and foreboding Kuraigana Island in the distance regardless of your wish for proper decorum. As the Red Force draws near, you can see the silhouette of Mihawk's castle looms against the horizon, a stark contrast to the vibrant, bustling atmosphere of your pirate ship. Your heart races with anticipation and unease.

"Land ho!" Yasopp shouts from the crow's nest.

The Red Force slows down, its massive hull creaking as it approaches the dock at the abandoned harbor. You clutch the railing, peering into the thick fog that blankets Kuraigana Island. The place feels otherworldly, almost like a forgotten realm.

“Why is the whole island so dark and gloomy?” you ask, unable to hide the apprehension in your voice.

Benn Beckman steps beside you, his ever-present cigarette glowing dimly in the mist. “It wasn’t always like this,” he begins, his voice carrying a weight of history. “Years ago, this island was home to the Shikkearu Kingdom. It thrived until war and calamity reduced it to ruins.”

You look around, noticing how the desolation seems to seep into every crevice of the island. The air feels thick with memories of a lost era.

“Mihawk took up residence here after that,” Benn continues, nodding towards the looming castle. “He found solace in its isolation. Suits him well—no distractions, no interruptions.”

You glance at Shanks, who’s busy directing the crew as they secure the ship. This is were he wanted to marry you? A confusing idea but no doubt he had his reasons so you would trust him. He catches your eye and gives you a reassuring smile. Despite his nonchalant demeanor, you sense a deep respect for Mihawk and this desolate place.

“Don’t let appearances fool you,” Benn adds, sensing your unease. “Mihawk’s castle might look grim from out here, but inside it’s quite different—full of life and color. You should see that atrium.”

You nod slowly, trying to reconcile the island’s grim exterior with Benn’s description of Mihawk’s sanctuary. The contrast intrigues you, making you eager yet anxious to step onto solid ground.

As the gangplank is lowered, Shanks offers you his hand with a wink. “Ready to meet the ghost of Kuraigana, treasure?”

"If we don't lose ourselves in the fog," you speak, taking his hand and stepping onto the dock. The other men follow suit, Lucky Roux carrying a barrel you suspected contained alcohol, Gab and Limejuice lofting crates of food on their shoulders. Even monster had a bag slung across his body. "What are you planning? A seven day feast?" You continue, eyeing Yasopp who now carries a crate labeled 'explosives'. "And why do you need explosives?"

"A wedding, Lady Captain!" Yasopp booms in reply. You can only hope the explosives were for fireworks and not something actually exploding. However you had seen Gab stuffing extra knifes into his pack before leaving so knife throwing challenges are definitely on the table.

The castle looms ahead, its dark silhouette cutting through the mist like a jagged tooth. The closer you get, the more imposing it becomes. Yet, there's an undeniable beauty in its gothic architecture, a stark contrast to the vibrant life aboard the Red Force.

As you approach Mihawk's castle, the massive doors creak open. There he stands, Dracule Mihawk himself—tall, imposing, with those hawk-like eyes that seem to pierce right through you. You find that your eyes are drawn to the massive sword hanging on his back, the hilt bejeweled and shining.

"Mihawk!" Shanks calls out cheerfully.

Mihawk’s gaze shifts to Shanks and then to you. His expression is unreadable as he steps forward. "Shanks," he says slowly, the name laced with mild irritation. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

You shoot Shanks a dirty look which he promptly ignores, and Mihawk definitely catches.

Shanks grins broadly, entirely unfazed by Mihawk's demeanor, or your glare. "I need a captain."

"Whatever for," Mihawk sighs out. "Or have you lost your title?"

Shanks’ grin widens as he steps closer to Mihawk. “I need an officiant, my friend.”

Mihawk’s eyes narrow, his gaze flickering briefly to you and then back to Shanks. “You’re capable of officiating a wedding on your own, are you not?”

A chuckle escapes Shanks as he shakes his head. “I may be a captain, but even I can’t officiate my own wedding. It’s bad form. I need someone I trust to do the honors.”

Mihawk's gaze shifts to you, his eyes narrowing in curiosity and perhaps a hint of disdain. "And who is the brave soul foolish enough to marry you?"

You step forward, lifting your chin with the poise instilled in you since birth. "That would be me," you declare, your voice steady and clear. "Linaria Bonn, though I prefer to go by Aria now."

A flicker of recognition crosses Mihawk’s face, quickly replaced by an inscrutable expression. "The noblewoman who fled her arranged marriage," he states, not as a question but as a fact.

"Indeed," you reply, meeting his gaze head-on. "And now, I'm choosing my own path."

Mihawk studies you for a moment longer, then inclines his head slightly. "You must be quite brave—or perhaps just reckless."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "I’ve learned that bravery and recklessness often walk hand in hand."

Mihawk’s eyes flash with something akin to amusement. "Spoken like someone who has faced adversity and come out stronger." He glances at Shanks before returning his attention to you. "Very well. I will officiate this wedding—if only to see what kind of chaos it brings."

"Chaos follows Shanks wherever he goes," you respond with a touch of dry humor. "And I take it with my afternoon tea."

Mihawk’s piercing gaze lingers on you, his hawk-like eyes assessing every inch of your resolve. For a moment, the gloomy island around you fades, and it's just you and the warlord locked in a silent battle of wills. But you don’t flinch or look away. Instead, you hold his gaze, your chin lifted high and eyebrow arched.

A hint of a smile touches Mihawk’s lips, barely perceptible but unmistakable. "You have spirit," he finally says, his voice carrying a note of approval. "Perhaps more than I anticipated."

Before you can respond, Shanks steps in with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Did I mention Aria has an impeccable taste in wine?"

Mihawk's interest piques visibly. His eyebrows arch ever so slightly as he turns to Shanks. "Is that so?"

Shanks nods enthusiastically, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Indeed. She’s quite the connoisseur. It's been rather difficult finding wines she will actually dink."

Mihawk's gaze returns to you, curiosity mingling with respect. "Very well then," he says. "Let's put that claim to the test."

Mihawk offers his arm and without taking your eyes off his incredible hawk-like eyes, you step forwards and slid your hand through his arm. His embroidered jacket feels deceptively soft beneath your fingertips as Mihawk turns to lead you to the wine cellar.

As you walk away, Shanks' voice rings out behind you. "Oi, Mihawk! You better not seduce my future wife with the allure of your wine cellar!"

You can almost hear the smirk in Mihawk’s voice as he replies without turning around. "I assure you, Shanks, my intentions are purely professional."

"I never said mine were," you inject with a soft giggle, smirking to yourself as Shanks groans in exasperation. You glance back to see Shanks shaking his head with a grin, clearly trusting Mihawk despite his playful warning and your teasing words.

Benn slaps his shoulder. "Seems like Aria finally met her match," he says with a smirk.

Mihawk leads you through the castle, his stride steady and purposeful. The air inside feels cooler, a refreshing change from the outside humidity. As you descend into the wine cellar, the earthy scent of aged oak and fermented grapes envelops you. Rows upon rows of barrels and bottles line the stone walls, creating an ambiance that is both inviting and mysterious.

He gestures to a polished wooden table set with an array of crystal glasses. "Shall we begin?"

You nod, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of this unexpected adventure. Mihawk carefully selects a bottle from the nearest rack, its label aged and slightly faded.

"This," he says, holding it up for you to see, "is a vintage from the Muggy Kingdom's prime years. A deep red with notes of blackberry and leather."

He pours a small amount into your glass, the rich liquid catching the light as it swirls. You lift it to your nose, inhaling deeply. The aroma is intoxicating—earthy with a hint of spice.

You take a sip, letting the wine coat your tongue before swallowing. "It's bold," you observe, savoring the lingering taste. "The tannins are firm but not overpowering. There's an underlying sweetness that balances it out."

Mihawk nods appreciatively. "Precisely. The balance is key with this vintage." He pours himself a glass and takes a sip, his eyes closing briefly in contemplation.

He reaches for another bottle, this one with a more vibrant label. "Now, for something different—a white wine from Sabaody Archipelago."

As he pours the pale liquid into your glass, you notice its light, almost translucent color. You bring it to your lips and take a sip.

"It's crisp," you say thoughtfully. "With hints of citrus and green apple. The acidity is sharp but refreshing. A rather pleasing wine for a spring day I should think."

Mihawk smiles faintly. "An excellent observation." He takes his own sip, his eyes meeting yours over the rim of his glass.

The two of you continue like this, moving through various bottles and vintages as if time has no hold on this hidden cellar. Each wine brings its own story—a tale of land and climate, of skillful hands and patient aging.

"This one," Mihawk says, presenting a bottle with an intricate label depicting waves crashing against rocks, "is from Water 7. A complex red with layers of flavor—cherry, tobacco, a hint of Agua Laguna sea salt."

You taste it and nod in agreement. "It's like drinking the essence of the sea itself. How peculiar…"

The hours slip by unnoticed as you and Mihawk delve deeper into the wine cellar, your conversations echoing softly against the stone walls. Each bottle brings with it a new discovery, a fresh wave of flavors and stories that bind you in a shared passion for the art of winemaking.

“This one,” Mihawk announces, holding up a dusty bottle with reverence, “is from a small vineyard in Alabasta. Only a few dozen bottles were ever made.”

You gaze at the bottle with wide eyes, excitement bubbling within you. “Oh I do so wish to have a taste,” you say wistfully, barely able to contain your enthusiasm.

Mihawk’s eyes gleam with mischief as he uncorks the bottle and pours the deep, crimson liquid into your glass. The aroma is intoxicating, rich with the scent of dark berries and exotic spices. You take a sip, savoring the complex layers of flavor that unfold on your tongue.

“Exquisite,” you murmur, closing your eyes to fully appreciate the taste.

Mihawk nods in agreement. “Indeed. The winemaker was a true artist.”

The conversation flows as easily as the wine, each topic leading naturally into the next. You find yourself discussing the merits of various wine regions, debating which climate produces the best grapes.

"Alabasta's dry heat brings out such intensity in the grapes," Mihawk states firmly.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "But nothing compares to the cool breezes of Sabaody Archipelago. The balance it brings is unmatched."

The night wears on and more bottles are emptied, your inhibitions soon fade away. You feel a lightness in your head, a warm flush spreading through your body.

“I’ve always wondered,” you begin, giggling as you struggle to form your thoughts coherently, “is Rosé closer to white or red wine? I think Rosé is clearly closer to a white wine,” you declare, your words slightly slurred from the wine. “It’s lighter, more refreshing. It’s like a summer breeze in a glass.”

Mihawk, equally inebriated, narrows his hawk-like eyes at you. “That’s where you’re wrong. Rosé is much closer to red wine. The process involves leaving the skins on for a short time, which imparts color and some tannins.”

You shake your head vehemently, nearly spilling your wine. “But it’s not just about the color! The flavor profile is lighter, the body is more delicate. It doesn’t have the same heaviness as red wine.”

Mihawk leans closer, his eyes burning with intensity. “The skins, Aria. The skins are crucial. They give Rosé its character. Without them, it would be insipid, lacking depth.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a surge of stubbornness rise within you. “But what about the acidity? Rosé has a higher acidity, much like white wine. It’s crisp and vibrant, not rich and bold like a red.”

“Acidity isn’t everything,” Mihawk counters, his voice rising slightly. “The structure, the backbone of Rosé comes from the skins and the tannins. It shares more DNA with reds than whites.”

Your cheeks flush with frustration and wine. “Oh please, Mihawk! Just because it has some tannins doesn’t make it a red wine! It’s all about the experience—the lightness, the freshness!”

Before Mihawk can respond, Shanks steps into the cellar, blinking in surprise at the heated exchange before him.

“What in the world are you two arguing about?” Shanks asks with a bemused smile.

You turn to Shanks, gesturing wildly with your glass. “This stubborn man insists that Rosé is closer to red wine! Can you believe that?”

Mihawk crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze never leaving yours. “And she insists it’s closer to white wine,” he says with a huff.

Shanks looks between the two of you, clearly amused by your drunken debate. “Is this what happens when I leave you alone with Mihawk for a couple of hours?” He chuckles. “You get drunk and start arguing over technicalities?”

You nod vigorously, pointing an accusatory finger at Mihawk. “He just doesn’t understand!”

Shanks steps closer, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Alright, alright, I think it’s time for bed,” he says, reaching for your hand.

You pull away, shaking your head defiantly. “No! We still haven’t figured out if Rosé is closer to white or red wine!” Your voice rises in pitch as you glare at Mihawk, who simply raises an eyebrow in response.

Shanks rolls his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. “You can debate wine all you want tomorrow. Right now, you need sleep.”

“But Shanks—” you begin, only to have your wine glass gently pried from your fingers. You let out a small noise of protest and your hands paw at the glass now out of reach, but Shanks remains undeterred.

“Come on, treasure,” he says softly, pulling you to your feet. The room spins slightly as you stand, and you grip Shanks’ arm for support.

Mihawk watches the exchange with a bemused expression. “Good luck,” he says dryly to Shanks.

“Thanks,” Shanks replies with a chuckle. “I’ll need it.”

As Shanks guides you out of the cellar, you continue to grumble under your breath. “It’s not fair… We were just getting to the good part…”

“I promise you can continue your debate in the morning,” Shanks assures you, his tone gentle but firm.

You pout but allow him to lead you through the castle halls. The cool air helps clear your head slightly, but you’re still unsteady on your feet. Shanks’ presence beside you is a comforting anchor as he steers you towards the guest quarters.

When you reach the room designated for you, Shanks opens the door and nudges you inside. “In you go.”

You turn to face him, eyes narrowed in stubborn determination. “This isn’t over.”

Shanks laughs softly, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dream of ending it prematurely.” He leans down and plants a soft kiss on your forehead before guiding you towards the bed. "Sit, let's get you changed into your nightgown."

You sink onto the edge of the bed, your mind still swirling with the remnants of your wine-fueled debate. Shanks kneels before you, his one good arm working deftly to remove your shoes.

“You’re not as steady as you think,” he murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips.

You huff in response, crossing your arms over your chest. “I was perfectly steady until Mihawk started with his nonsense about Rosé being closer to red wine." You scoff at the idea.

Shanks’ touch is careful, almost reverent, as he sets each shoe aside. You watch him through the haze of wine, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. There's something undeniably comforting about his presence.

He stands and offers you a hand. "Up you go," he says softly.

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. The room sways slightly, but Shanks' steady grip keeps you standing. He begins to untie the strings of your dress, his fingers nimble despite the task being more suited for two hands.

You try to help, but your movements are clumsy and uncoordinated. Shanks chuckles softly. "Hold still, treasure," he murmurs. "Let me do this."

You nod and let your arms fall to your sides, trusting him completely. He is so endearingly attractive like this. The dress loosens and falls away, leaving you standing in your undergarments. Shanks unhooks your bra and pulls it from your arms as you blink.

He retrieves your nightgown from a nearby chair and slips it over your head, guiding your arms through the sleeves with practiced ease. The fabric is soft against your skin, and you sigh from happiness.

"All done," he says, stepping back to admire his handiwork. You smile up at him, feeling a sense of calm settle over you.

"Thank you," you whisper, swaying slightly on your feet.

Shanks catches you before you can stumble, his arm wrapping securely around your waist. "Easy there," he says with a grin. "Let's get you into bed."

You pull back from Shanks’ embrace, shaking your head stubbornly. "I don’t want to go to bed yet," you insist, your voice still tinged with the defiance fueled by wine and unresolved petty debates.

Shanks sighs softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Alright, how about we cuddle instead?" His tone is gentle, coaxing, as if he knows exactly how to navigate your stubbornness.

You pause, considering his offer. The idea of cuddling sounds incredibly appealing. Reluctantly, you nod.

Shanks’ smile widens as he guides you to the bed. "Come on then," he says, settling down and pulling you into his arms. You nestle against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. His lone arm wraps around you securely, holding you close.

The room is quiet except for the soft sounds of your breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets. You feel safe in Shanks’ embrace, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the swirling haze of wine and emotions.

He strokes your hair gently, his touch soothing. "Feeling better?" he asks softly.

You nod against his chest, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. "Yes," you murmur. "This is nice."

Shanks chuckles softly. "Thought it might be." He continues to stroke your hair, his fingers moving in slow, rhythmic patterns that lull you further into relaxation. Your eyelids grow heavier with each passing moment, the warmth and comfort of Shanks' embrace making it impossible to stay awake.

Date Published: 8/19/24

Last Edit: 8/19/24

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#shanks x reader #one piece shanks #shanks x you #red haired shanks #shanks #akagami no shanks

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askinkiskarma · 2 years ago

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Cruel Summer | Chapter III: Clean

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 6.6k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, friends-with-benefits, mutual pining, some Spider x Reader, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: You and Neteyam learn to navigate life without the other.

A/N: Hey besties, I’m sorry that this took so long, but I’ve honestly been struggling a little on this website, and it’s taken quite the toll on me. It’s been a weird week(?), in which although I’ve never received more followers and more notes etc., I’ve also never felt more alone, and more disconnected from the platform and the people in it. I think you will be able to tell in the chapter as well. When I was posting the Cardigan series, although I had a lot less followers, I felt like people genuinely enjoyed/connected to the story, and I just don’t really feel that way anymore, and I think I’m still learning to deal with it. Anyway, personal issues aside, I really hope you enjoy this chapter! I think it’s only going to be another couple chapters in this story. I might however make an alternate ending to it? I’ve also had some inspiration for Midnight Rain Part II, and thank you so much for being patient with me with that story, it took me a while to understand what I wanted to do with it, as I wasn’t planning on it having a second part initially. Ramble over, I promise.

enjoy besties ily xoxo

: ̗̀➛ listen to Clean here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

The drought was the very worst

When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst

It was months and months of back and forth

You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore

“Come on… open the door, please?”

Lo’ak’s voice was pleading and saddened, and so were Kiri’s soft sobs, but you pretended you couldn’t hear them, not their tone nor their words, because hearing them meant acknowledging it and you couldn’t. You couldn’t acknowledge them, or the previous few that tried. Not Jake, not Norm, not Neteyam. Definitely not Neteyam. You couldn’t open that door, because if you did, you would crumble at their feet, you would beg and scream and thrash, and you didn’t want to do any of those things. The anger you felt for all of them, each and every one of them was strong enough to drown any other emotion, any emotion other than overwhelming hurt and anguish that was threatening to tear you apart with each passing moment that these people were standing outside your door, every moment that passed in which they were still leaving, still leaving you behind, leaving you alone.

You were all alone. No matter how many years you have spent by their side, no matter how much Jake promised you were as much their kid as the rest of them, no matter how many hours and days and months and years you have spent stuck to Neteyam like glue, it was all in vain. It was all fake. You would never be a part of their family. All these years, you were just a family pet, that they would pass on to the next owners when the situation called for it. This thought was fuel enough for a new set of wailed cries that you tried to muffle with a hand over your mouth. It took a while, but eventually, they left you to your own devices, left you to deal with the mess they made, a mess you’ll never forgive them for. Never forgive him for.

At the dawn of a new day, the dreaded day, a new knock, more timid and timed bellowed, and the sound rang painfully in your ears.

“Kid… they’re leaving. They really want to say goodbye to you… they all do. Tuk is crying, she’s saying you’re mad at her. Just… just please come out, honey, ok?”

Tuk…

“Tuk can come in. But that’s it.” You hoped Norm couldn’t make out how hoarse and broken your voice sounded, and hope he couldn’t tell that you cried so much in one night that you blacked out from dehydration, only to be woken up by his announcement.Sure enough, a few minutes later, Tuk came in through the door you just unlocked. You tried to wash your face and look a little more presentable, but as you took one swift look in the mirror, you knew it was pointless. You just prayed Tuk wouldn’t notice.

“Come in, baby.” She ran into your arms and fastened her arms around your neck, and you were always shocked at how she was just as tall as you, and somehow even stronger.

“Sister! I thought I wouldn’t get the chance to say goodbye.” She was crying, you realised, as her hot tears spilled down your back, getting absorbed in your cotton top.

“Of course you would, baby. I am so sorry. I’m so sad that you’re going, so I needed some time, but I would never let you leave without telling you how much I’ll miss you, and that I love you so, so much. You’re the best little sister anyone could have ever asked for.” Her high-pitched cries tugged at your heart painfully, but you knew you had to be strong for her. She didn’t deserve any of it, any pain or hurt, anything other than pure bliss.

“I love you, too! I want you to come with. Why can’t you come with?”

You tried to ignore the way your entire body felt like it was being put through the meat grinder, and just focused on her, on her tears and her soft little hair that you caressed gently, and the way her head fit so well in the crook of your neck.

“Because I’m human, baby. And where you are going, they wouldn’t like me. I wouldn’t fit in. But baby, look at me.” You brushed the unruly braids out of her face and her tears from her cheeks, giving her the biggest smile you could muster. “This isn’t goodbye forever. I will see you again soon, and I can’t wait to hear all the adventures you’ve had and all the memories you’ve made. I’m so proud of you, you know? One day, you’ll outgrow me, and I’ll get to watch you be the most amazing warrior ever, just like your mummy is. And I’ll still be your biggest cheerleader, and I’ll watch from the bleachers, like in the movies, do you remember?”

She nods half-heartedly, but her face lights up a little, and you think the worst is over.

“Come, I’m sure everyone’s waiting. I will miss you, sweet girl. Be safe.”

You kissed her forehead and both of her cheeks, and with one last hug, she left.

They left. He left.

Hung my head as I lost the war

And the sky turned black like a perfect storm

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

“How does it feel?” Neteyam watched as you eyed his queue, that was leisurely hung over his shoulder, a glimmer of curiosity in your eyes. He’s noticed you doing that for a while now, and when you were kids, he’s let you touch it once or twice, but it’s been years now, and the situation was no longer applicable. You were no longer just a friend, not quite a mate, somewhere in between, something undefined and awkward, something you didn’t talk about unless absolutely necessary.

“How does what feel, Vol?”

“The Tsaheylu. Connecting to another animal, another Na’vi. How does it feel?”

“I thought you knew about from all your little books.” You rolled your eyes and huffed annoyedly.

“Yes, I do. I know the theory. I know you use it to connect to other beings, to Eywa, I know you can feel each other’s emotions. I know all of that. But how does it feel?”

Neteyam thought about it for a long time. How was he supposed to describe something that was so natural and so quintessential to his life, to his existence, to someone who would never be able to experience for themselves?

“Do you know how sometimes we look at each other and we kind of just have a whole conversation just with one look? Because we know each other so well now, that words are not really necessary? Vol… I know everything you think, and everything you feel. I know you so deep in my soul, it’s hard to separate my own feelings from yours, my own thoughts. You’ve become so essential to my being, it’s like you are a constant part of me.”

He suddenly felt very vulnerable and exposed at the confession, and felt like he overshared something that may have been better left unsaid.

“I mean, I-“

“I know what you mean.”

You sighed and got closer to him, and you moved until you were in his lap, in your own little bubble of safety and comfort. It was your favourite place in the world, you once told him.

“I know what you mean too well. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell where I stop and you start.”

He felt relieved at your words, relieved to know you understood and felt the same. That you got him.

“Well, there you go. That’s kinda how it feels like.”

“But, how does it feel like? When you mate with someone, does it amplify the sensations, does it… make it better? Make it so you never want someone else ever again?”

The saddened, desolate tone of your voice told Neteyam that you were moving into uncharted territory, that this conversation was taking a turn neither of you were ready or skilled enough to navigate safely. He didn’t know what was the right way to answer something like that. Because the truth was that yes, from his understanding, it did make it better. It made it more intense, more special, it made it everything. There was a reason Na’vi had sex with however many people they wanted, but only bonded with one. It was the bond that separated a sexual experience from a mating experience, from something you would only ever wanted to experience with just one special someone. But he couldn’t say that to you. Not when you didn’t have this ability and never will, not when he knew how much you wanted it, not when there was nothing neither of you could do about it. So he considered a different approach.

“Do you want to touch it?”

Neteyam’s never allowed anyone near his queue before. No Na’vi would. The kuru was for themselves, for their mates and for their mothers as infants. It was the most sensitive and intimate part of them, and so naturally, Neteyam was a little uneasy and nervous. But he trusted you. He loved you. He was in love with you, and would have given anything to mate with you, but maybe this will be enough.

He laughed softly at the way your eyes widened in shock. You understood the implication of what he was asking you, and that scared you both. But still, almost bashfully, you nodded, a soft warm loving smile taking over your features. You softly reached for it and brushed your hands over the length that was draped over his shoulder, a touch so soft, so minuscule that it was barely there, but Neteyam’s whole body shuddered, goosebumps instantly appearing throughout his whole body. You quickly removed your hand, and looked guilty as you spoke.

“I’m sorry. This was probably a bad ide-“

“Hey, stop.”

Neteyam couldn’t help his fingers as they reached out and stroked you face and jaw, making their way down your throat and collarbone. He smirked a little when you shivered under his touch.

“See? Did that feel bad?”

You smiled and shook your head gently.

“It doesn’t feel bad. It’s just… new. But I want you to do it, Vol. I want you to do it.”

A little unnerved, you resumed your inspection of his braid, grabbing at as gently as you could and bringing it up to eye level.

“The hair here is softer.” You mused, almost to yourself. “I love that.”

Slowly, you moved downstream, until eventually, you reached its end, and gasped slowly as the pink tendrils came into view, moving a lot more erratically and enthusiastically than they normally did.

“Why are they doing that?”

“Because of you, Vol.” he said through panted breaths. He was experiencing a range and intensity of emotions he never had before, never in his life. The things you were doing to him, that only you ever did to him, the feelings you evoked in his mind and body, were now intensified a thousand fold, and he was crumbling under their weight.

“It’s doing that because my body feels you. Feels what you’re doing, knows who you are.” He hesitated before speaking, but he needed to get it out, he had to get it out. “It’s doing that because it knows I’m close to someone it… it wants to mate with.”

You removed your hand from him almost like his queue burned you. Your face contorted in a frown and you were struggling to push tears back in your eyes.

“Oh. Well, unfortunately, that’s never going to be able to happen, so…” You removed yourself from his lap and started turning your back to him, but he caught you and held you in place. You were almost face to face like this, which Neteyam was happy about. He had to look into your eyes to get his point across. He had to look into your eyes to get the courage needed to say this.

“Ma Vol, it doesn’t matter.” You scoffed, and the small movement of your head spilled unwanted tears, that you quickly brushed away with your thumb.

“Hey, look at me. Please?” You did so hesitantly. His thumb was caressing your face, your jaw and lips.

“It doesn’t matter. Do you not understand, Vol?” He moved his hand to rest on your chest, above your heart. “I can feel you. I can feel everything you feel. I can feel feel it like I’m going through it. When you’re sad, I’m sad. When you’re happy or shy, or anxious or scared, when you are annoyed or excited, I feel it all. You see? It doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t you get it? It never mattered. Not with you.” A small moan escaped you at his words, that he knew you needed to hear, and he needed to speak out loud. He didn’t know what would happen, didn’t know if he should have, but as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, harsh and needy, he couldn’t find it in him to care.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

There was nothing left to do

When the butterflies turned to dust that covered my whole room

So I punched a hole in the roof

Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you

Neteyam woke up with a mean headache, and he felt almost hungover. He always did these days, pain seeping through every dimension of his life, of his body and mind. The dreams were unrelenting, and they stung each night, so many memories, so many moments he wished he could go back to, that he wished he could relive… that he wish he could forget. It’s been weeks, yet your final interaction still haunts him. How could it not? He didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. Nineteen years of friendship, of being each other’s safety net were swiftly thrown out the window in a split second, and Neteyam found it difficult to cope with the gap you and your presence left behind. There was so much that had to change for him, it felt like every day was a new life he never asked for and didn’t want, but was forced to live through regardless. A strange purgatory, one with warm breezes and crystal clear water and golden sandy beaches. Probably not the worst of purgatories, if Neteyam was honest with himself, but even Heaven could easily feel like Hell under the right circumstances.

“Ok kids, remember, no getting into trouble. Go meet Tsireya and Aonung and train. Pull your weight. Neteyam, once you’ve mastered the ilu, Tonowari said you can start learning how to tame the tsurak. Now let’s go show the Metkayina how the Omatikaya do things, alright, kids?”

“Yes, sir.”

Neteyam walked alongside his siblings to the meeting place they’ve been training every day for the past couple of weeks. As it turns out, the Metkayina can hold their breath underwater for up to 15 minutes, their bodies physically adapted to allow them to, and well… the Sullys couldn’t. So there was a lot of breathing training, on top of swimming lessons and ilu riding practice. Neteyam was frustrated to have to start anew, frustrated that he couldn’t fly every day, the way he has grown accustomed to for the past 6 years since completing his Iknimaya, frustrated that he went from being the future Olo’eyktan to a novice, to a nobody.

Despite everything, he tried. That was in his nature. He would always try, he would always give his best, and he would always make the best out of a bad situation, because that’s who he was. That’s who he had to be. The move left him broken and unmoored, with no purpose and no home, but Neteyam would still keep going, because his family depended on him, and that knowledge alone was enough to keep him afloat just a little while longer.

Neteyam couldn’t help be jealous of his little brother, who not only adapted, but he did so almost instantly. The new place felt immediately like home to the boy who has always felt alone and misunderstood, like a pariah and an outcast. It was the same here, yet somehow, the presence of the Olo’eyktan’s only daughter seem to lessen the blow and make him want to try harder than he ever has before. His breathing technique was better than all of theirs, except Kiri's, most likely due to the extra lessons he was getting every day from Tsireya. Neteyam was proud of Lo’ak, he really was. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of annoyance that once more, whilst Neteyam was plagued with insurmountable challenges and continuous sacrifices, Lo’ak once more got everything he’s wanted handed to him on a silver platter. He just wishes sometimes life could work out in his favour the same way, at least once. At least in one aspect. The one aspect.

The days were long and tedious, but every day something happened that he wished he could tell you about, that he wished you could experience. You loved water. He could just about imagine your face, your thoughts, your every expression, every sound you would make, every undulation of your voice. He could imagine taking you to the mangrove forest and finding a spot just for the two of you, your screams of pleasure drowned by the greenery and the sounds of exotic birds. He could see you taking your mask off despite his complaints, and kissing him, deeply and passionately, smiling as his tongue explored your body, as your hands explored his.

He missed you. He wondered if you missed him too, or if the hatred that probably fuelled your days prevented you from doing so.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

“I’ve missed you.”

You were a mess of tangled limbs on your bed, Neteyam’s warmth enveloping you like a cozy blanket, much more so than the one currently covering you both. His voice was thick and laced with languor, and so sweet, it was making your eyes flutter closed in bliss and soothing relaxation.

“I’ve missed you, too, Teyam.”

Neteyam’s large hand cupped your face, lifting it gently so he could meet your eyes, smiling softly as he did.

“Ma Vol… are you happy?”

Neteyam’s loaded question took you by surprise, and woke you from your near-sleep. You thought about it for a while, pondering the weight of the word. Happy. Were you happy? Happiness was such a strange, abstract concept to you. On one hand, yes, you were. So, so happy. In this moment, you were happy. In every moment you were in his arms, every moment he laughed at your silly jokes, or watched you intently as you spoke about your day, in every moment he was just who he was, your best friend, your confidant, your boyfriend and mate for all intents and purposes, except the one that mattered most. And there was the flip side, the ugly monster, that was ever-present and following you everywhere you went, marring even the most serene, the most beautiful, the happiest memories. The truth. The truth was the antithesis of happiness. Because the truth told you that one day, Neteyam would up and leave you, and when he did, your life as you have come to know it for 19 years will change. Because let’s be honest. Not only will you lose him as a lover, as an unofficial boyfriend, but you knew you would lose him as a friend. You knew that whoever it was that would be his mate would not approve of your friendship, and that, in time, even that will dwindle and fall apart, leaving you completely on your own.

Still, all of that was far away in the future in your mind, and telling Neteyam any of it meant admitting feelings you shouldn’t be harbouring to begin with, so you settled for a white lie. A harmless lie. A necessary lie.

“I am, Teyam.”

“Are you?”

“Right now, I am.”

“Good. Because so I am. I know it’s strange. I hate this place, you know. So many horrible things have come out of it, so much hurt and pain and death, but somehow, being here with you… this room, this bed. Somehow it feels like home. And I think it’s you. I think you’re my home.”

You tightened your grip on his body and didn’t say anything as you allowed yourself the respite of his words, and the hope of tomorrow.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

You woke up in pain, and crying, as you did most nights these days. You were slowly losing hope the nightmares would ever stop, that his face would ever be erased from your mind, both conscious and unconscious, tugging at every strand of sanity you had left, any shred of self-preservation still keeping you going. It’s been long enough that you thought the pain should have subsided by now. Long enough that maybe, just maybe, the world wouldn’t be as dark and gloomy anymore, that maybe while not the whole sun, but at least one ray of it could penetrate the ice that wrapped around your heart, slowly thawing it. But your world was still dark and filled with dim shadows and water that was slowly filling every chamber of your heart and lungs, slowly drowning you.

You got out of bed with a sigh and turned on the shower, water so hot it felt almost scalding on your skin, the only way you showered these days, the only way it was bearable, the only way. Because this way, in your mind, little by little, every inch of skin on your body he ever touched was slowly melting away, and in time, all the cells that died would be replaced with new ones, and in time, your body will be rid of his imprint and then, maybe then, you could finally be free.

You made your way to the dining area, determined to be a productive member of society at least to some extent today, determined to not spend yet another day in bed, replaying the same 10 songs that only made you sadder, or the same show that you have seen so many times you have memorised by heart. Most of the humans and Avatars were there, enjoying some breakfast prior to a long day ahead. There was yet another attacked planned today. Tarsem was a good leader. Strong and capable, unrelenting in his quest to impede as many of the human developments as he possibly could. He was not deterred by the Recoms and he had faith in Eywa’s ability and desire to protect her world and her people, and so far, he has been right. Even with Avatars, they have not been able to find the new Omatikaya base of operations, and you have even found some of them dead in the woods, mostly likely as a result of an attack by all the ikran that lived in the mountains.

“Morning, honey.” Max sent a wide smile your way, that you tried your best to reciprocate.

“Coffee?” The words were music to your ears. You’ve only tasted coffee a couple of times when you were young, before the provisions depleted, but now, with all the trains and helicopters that the Na’vi and Avatars managed to take down, the stronghold had plenty to spare once more.

“Yes, please.” Norm poured you the magic liquid and took a sip of it himself, sighing happily to himself.

“You know, it really does suck that the humans came back, but my God, this is definitely a silver lining.”

You chuckled a little.

“I doubt the Na’vi will see it that way, Norm.”

“No, but outside of coffee and burgers and all the other human things we’ve missed, Tarsem is incredible, kid! We have so many lab supplies, reagents and equipment that we are still trying to unpack, categorise and put together. It’s incredible all the stuff they brought with them. It’s almost like all the stuff we used to do on Earth, they’re trying to bring here. Who knows what we could do with all of it?”

“After breakfast, I can help you with it. This way we can go through it faster and figure it out?”

“That’d be great, kid.”

“Where’s Spider?”

“He’s training with the Olo’eyktan and his men. You know? Tarsem loves him!” Norm laughs heartily. You raise an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, kid! Turns out 19 years of training with Neteyam and Lo’ak under Jake’s supervision really did make him quite the fighter. Now, he’s obviously never going to be able to take the Iknimaya or be one of the people, but Tarsem sees a true warrior in him. Can you believe that?”

You couldn’t really, but you also couldn’t help the swell of pride that overtook you. It was nice to know there was some hope for the humans in the clan after all.

“Why don’t you go with him? You’ve also trained with the kids growing up. I know you split your time between that and being in the lab, but kid, it’s worth a shot. There’s a whole life out there waiting for you, and this way, you get to feel more integrated with the village. This is what you’ve wanted all your life, isn’t it?”

Yeah, you thought bitterly. A different life.

Despite everything, you took Norm’s advice, and spent your time training with Spider and the Na’vi warriors, deepening your understanding of guns, practicing bow and arrows and even learning hand to hand combat from the human Avatars. In the spare time, you helped in the lab, doing experiments and organising all the overwhelming amounts of new things you were receiving from all the raids. It was a good distraction, and it kept you busy sun up til sun down, each day, every day.

You and Spider got closer by the day, even closer somehow than you used to be. You cleaned his wounds and he helped clean yours, although he didn’t know much about how to do it, but in time, you taught him and you enjoyed the feeling of another person helping you, another person healing you. You almost felt the edges of the gaping hole in your chest start to close when you spent your days together.

But no amount of distraction could really keep the nightmares away when they wanted to come and haunt you in the night.

Ten months sober, I must admit

Just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it

You woke up panting, crying and tugging at your night gown in an effort to make the pain stop, the gaping hole in your heart that hurt still as badly as that first day, that never seemed to get any smaller, that refused to heal. You barely registered the door to your bedroom sliding open with a soft whoosh, but jumped when you noticed a dark figure approaching you slowly.

“Spider, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry. I just heard you scream, I was worried about you.”

You looked at Spider, your eyes adjusted to the dark enough to make out his beautiful face and his dreads that were getting longer by the day. He needs a haircut, you decided mindlessly. You had to admit his presence was soothing to you, his presence in this room that only Neteyam truly ever came in, that only Neteyam ever slept in, that only Neteyam knew as well and intimately as you did. But Neteyam wasn’t here. Neteyam would never be here again. You winced at the sharp burst of pain that shot through you at the thought.

“I’m alright. Thanks for asking. Just had a nightmare.”

Spider sighed, picking at something on his arm.

“Yeah. I get those too.”

You barely stopped to consider what Spider must be going through, too self-involved in your own heartbreak to recognise his own, one that was probably closer to yours that you could have ever thought. You lost Neteyam, but Spider lost Kiri. You both lost a Sully, both lost a love you cared for deeply, more than anyone could ever understand except the other.

“Ok, well, sleep well. Let me know if you need anything.”

You saw Spider turn around and make his way towards the exit, and you could’t help the voice that came out uninvited.

“Can you… stay? Please? I don’t want to be alone.”

Spider stopped in his tracks, still turned away from you, and you watched as the atmosphere of the room shifted, as the silence became thicker than it had been a few moments ago.

“Yeah… yeah, I can stay.” He slowly walked towards your desk chair that had a few clothes thrown carelessly on it, that he removed and put on your desk instead. He sat down, playing with the height and back support controls.

“Goodnight, gorgeous.”

You laughed quietly.

“Spider, I meant stay with me.” You shuffled on one edge of your bed and patted the other side. You watched his eyes go wide and mouth agape, as he stared at you in shock.

“You don’t have to, if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

He shook his head and lowered his eyes to the ground. “No, it’s not that, it’s just…”

“Spider, it’s ok. Forget I asked, ok?”

“Oh, shut up. I want to, ok? I just needed a second to adjust. Jeez.”

In true Spider fashion, he stomped over to the bed and got under the covers, and slowly turned around to face you. This was a strange feeling to adjust to for sure. You’ve never had a normal sized person in this bed before. You’ve never had anyone else in here before except Neteyam. Spider looked tiny by comparison, even though the young man was almost a whole head taller than you. Your synchronised breaths were the only thing filling up the tense, awkward silence.

“This is a little weird.”

You couldn’t help chuckle. Well, at least one of you acknowledged it.

“A little.” You admitted. “But I’m glad you’re here, Spider.” He gave you a boyish, crooked smile, one that you’ve grown up seeing develop, just like the rest of him had. You never really paid attention to Spider before. To you, he was just your weird, Tarzan-impersonator, lanky and smelly friend, someone that was just always there. After Neteyam, you never really paid attention to anyone, especially of the opposite sex. Why would you? Any second spent on such affairs was a second wasted, in your mind. But now, Neteyam was gone. Neteyam would move on, and he’d find a mate, whether in the Metkayina or back here, if he ever return. It was time for you to pay attention, it seemed. And you did.

Spider grew up into a beautiful man. He was tall and strong, a testimony to the entire life dedicated to living as close to a Na’vi as he possibly could in this body, that was pure muscle. He was completely naked barring a pair of boxers, and even in the cover of darkness, you couldn’t help trace his biceps and pecs, his pronounced collarbones, and settle you gaze on his face, still kind and innocent, still the same kid you’ve known your whole life.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you smiled a little, almost bashful that he caught you, not that you were in any way subtle about it.

“You’re beautiful, you know? I think I’ve always been caught up in my own bullshit to really notice, and I’m sorry for that.” He rolled his eyes, but the blush in his cheeks was so intense it was noticeable even in the dim light coming from the bioluminescent glow of the nature right outside your window.

“You mean caught up in Neteyam.”

It was your turns to blush, hard enough that your cheeks felt like they caught fire. He laughs at you.

“It’s ok. You’re not the only one who knows what it’s like to love someone you can never have, and also not the only one who did things Neytiri would kill you for if she ever found out.” He opened up his arms.

“Come here.”

You hesitated for a second, but couldn’t help the sudden need to be held again, to allow yourself the chance of some sort of connection, some sort of lull in a sea of storms and heartache. Once in his arms, you were once again painfully aware of the difference between him and the man you’ve come to know by heart, the man that still held every part of you hostage, trapped in his hold.

“I know you’ve had a really tough time, and I know that you’re angry, and that most of all, you’re sad that it’s over. I am, too. But the rest of us are still here, you know? The rest of the world is still here. And I think maybe it’s time you give it a chance. Who knows what will happen?”

“How can you be so ok with it? They left us. They abandoned us.” His hand was calloused, but warm and gentle and it caressed up and down your back, and the touch, so familiar and yet so different, brought tears in your eyes as you found yourself wishing once more other hands, bigger and bluer, could do it instead.

“They had no choice. You really think any of them would abandon their home, their family, the forest… any of it, if they could help it?”

You were surprised at Spider’s words and way of thinking, so much more nuanced and level-headed than yours. You knew he was right. You knew it in your head that you shouldn’t blame any of them, shouldn’t blame him, that this was probably even harder for them that it would ever be for you, and yet still, your head and your heart rarely ever got along or saw eye to eye. Your heart was aching, shooting its poisoned blood all throughout your body with every heartbeat, trickling onto every cell, every ounce of you it could get to, making a mess out of you, leaving you reeling and broken, full of hatred and resentment.

“Don’t you… miss her?” He sighed, and stilled his hand movement on the nape of your neck. “I do. I miss them all. But this is a chance to prove myself, to live and show people that I am more than the Sullys’ little pet. And I will take this opportunity and give it everything I got. I suggest you do the same.”

“You should sleep. I’m gonna kick your ass in practice tomorrow otherwise.”

And so you did. And for the first time in months, you had a peaceful night.

Ten months older, I won't give in

Now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it

The peace didn’t last, as it never seemed to, as Norm burst in the lab one day when you were doing some experiments.

“Kid. I just heard from Jake.”

The mention of Jake’s name stilled you in your tracks. The name and the names associated with it could always do that, will always do that, even though it’s been months. You knew Jake would never risk their cover to get in touch, so whatever the reason for this was, it was serious. You felt a lump in your throat, restricting your airways, making the breaths you took shallow and uneven.

“What’s the matter?”

”It’s Kiri. Something happened to her underwater. She’s unconscious. Jake asked us to come right away.”

Kiri… your sister in all the ways that mattered, you loved this girl with all your heart. The thought of anything bad happening to her was unthinkable to you. Another thought crept unwelcome in your mind, increasing the lump now completely obstructing your breath, that got stuck in your airways. Spider…

Trying to calm your thoughts, you spoke, and the voice scratched your throat painfully on its way out.

“Did you t-… did you tell him?”

“He’s out in the forest. There is no time. Me and Max are going now. Kid… I think you should come with.”

Eyebrows raised and mouth agape, you struggled to gather your thoughts enough to speak, only soft mumbles coming out instead.

“W-wh-“

“Because I think there’s a lot left unsaid. I know you’re angry, and you have a right to be, far be it from me to tell you how to feel, but…” he sighed, and you could tell he felt uneasy speaking to you about this. “Spider got some closure. You didn’t. Take it from an old man, life’s too short to not have some peace of mind. Kiri’s unwell, and if something happens to her, you will regret for the rest of your life not having said a proper goodbye when they left, when they wanted to.”

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but they did think they were protecting you by leaving. You know they love you, kid. You’re their sister, their best friend. You’re as good as Jake’s daughter. They wouldn’t have left if they ever thought they had a choice.”

“Look, you don’t have to come. I just want what’s best for you, and I think isolating yourself the way you’ve been doing for months isn’t what’s best for you. Just come. Help us save Kiri, say your peace to the Sully family and then maybe you can move on, honey. And who knows… maybe you and Spider…”

You refused to think about his last sentence and focused on how your mind was short-circuiting at his other words, at his desire for you to join, at the thought of seeing them again. Of seeing him again. Your heart was beating so hard it felt like it was trying to escape your ribcage, and you ran your hand up and down your arms in order to remove the sweat that was gathering on your skin. You knew you probably shouldn’t, you knew that you were better off never seeing them again and forgetting the way his touch and his presence and his voice still had the power to make your knees buckle under the weight of what he meant to you, of the calamitous love you will always feel for him, but another thought, more pressing and urgent, more demanding, made you speak before your mind could intervene.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

The drought was the very worst

When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst

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