#or wait save that for after next chapter actually. thanks

[ruvviks]

Chapter >> 14 [x] Characters >> Cato Wu (oc), Lauren Dimas (oc), Mikhail Koshechkin (oc), Thibault Lajoie (oc), Vitali Dobrynin (oc), a long list of side characters Total >> 7.8k words Warnings >> Alcohol mention, arguing, blood mention, death mention, family / parents, violence mention

‘Need everyone in mission control, stat! Don’t just fuckin’ stand there- get Misha! Lauren, come in- I need you to get the boss on comms!’

Cato hurried through the hallway, maneuvering around the mercs on their way to mission control to get there before they would. She was attempting to get the clip of her chest armor fastened but with every footfall the two halves bounced off each other and she was starting to get increasingly frustrated about it.

‘Can’t get a hold of him,’ Lauren replied in her earpiece, her voice tense and a little distant- telling Cato she wasn’t even sat in her chair yet. ‘Still out on recon- out of signal bounds? I’ll scan the Net, see what I can find.’

She pushed the door to mission control open with her shoulder, the room already overly crowded with mercenaries; everyone who was in the building at the time, all loudly talking to each other while moving between computers and laptops and pointing at the screen on the wall.

Not much was happening yet. It simply showed a radar of Night City- pings from the NCPD, showing targets, people on the run- none of them the man they were looking for and frankly Cato had no idea how they would ever find him back.

‘What’s going on?’ Thibault asked, jogging over the second they noticed her entering the room. They were dressed in casual clothes; not suited up for gigs or a security shift, simply around to help out in the office itself for the day. Like most of the mercs in the room, for that matter; no one had expected this to happen. Which had exactly been what had allowed it to happen in the first place.

‘Ravager escaped.’

Edward Keizer.

Ex-Maelstrom, now one of Matvey’s mercenaries, personally responsible for many lost resources, injured mercs and both Mikhail and Vincent’s brief captivities in the past. Vitali had managed to capture him after they had successfully rescued Vincent from the man’s facility; and had kept him captive ever since, even after Ivan Dupoint’s unfortunate death earlier that year.

Cato had honestly forgotten a little bit about him.

Too preoccupied with other business; monitoring the situation with the Broker, keeping an eye out for any signs of another attack being planned- catching up with gigs as fast as possible- and then of course their brief time spent with Roksana Dobrynina, who had in her few days of being there proven to be more than a handful to Cato to the point she had needed to take some time off.

She’d only been back for a few days and hell had already broken loose again.

Entirely their own fault- all of them combined, it was of no use to point fingers and try to pin the blame on one person alone. They had not kept a close eye on him anymore and were now facing the consequences; but they needed to find him back. Who knew what he would do out there.

‘Fucking bastard,’ Thibault mumbled, following Cato to one of the computers that was still available. ‘How’d it happen?’

‘Hux went to bring him his breakfast and he wasn’t there anymore,’ Cato plainly answered. ‘Fucker escaped from his restraints, crawled out of a window and dropped himself on one of the lower floor’s balconies.’

‘Jesus.’

‘Got desperate, I s’pose. What’s a fall from over twenty high when you’ve already been stuck in a room for a few months?’

The door of mission control swung open again and Mikhail entered the room- finally, and after briefly looking around and finding Cato he quickly hurried his way over to her.

‘Already long gone,’ Cato said to him, shaking her head and throwing up her hands in desperation. ‘Dunno when he escaped exactly, Lauren’s getting settled in as we speak- she’ll know more soon. Dunno where he’s headed, dunno fuckin’ shit. And the boss isn’t here either! Bit of a pickle we’re in, it seems.’

‘Fantastic,’ Mikhail muttered and placed his hands on his hips. ‘Lauren?’

‘I’m here, I’m here, gimme a minute.’ A pause on the other side of the line, followed by soft humming and the brief flicker of the lights above their heads as Lauren logged into the systems. ‘Gonna try and see when he escaped, when he left the building. See if we can get a direction, make an estimate where he’d be right now.’

In Vitali’s absence, it was Mikhail who was in charge- though he never made any decisions entirely by himself, always needing Cato by his side for a second opinion. They worked well together; of course they did. Had worked together in the past and despite everything that had happened in their years apart, it was often as if they had not even been separated in the first place.

‘We should’ve paid more attention to him,’ Cato quietly said, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she watched security footage from the building pop up on the screen. ‘Bet he’s already found his way back to Dobrynin Senior by now. Wherever that may be.’

‘Either that, or worse.’ Mikhail clicked his tongue and visibly clenched his jaw as a sharp exhale left his chest. ‘We know what he is capable of. Who knows who else he might hurt while out there?’

‘Geez, kids, lighten up a little? Take a look.’

The both of them redirected their attention to the screen again and watched as Lauren showed them footage from early that morning; five minutes past six, the exact moment Ravager dropped himself onto a balcony and took the elevator down to ground level.

‘Where’s he headed?’ Thibault asked.

‘North,’ Lauren answered, ‘from what I can tell at least. Headed to City Center in a stolen vehicle- I’ll see if I can track him down in a minute. I’ll first try to get the boss on the line again now, stand by.’

‘Cool beans.’ Cato paused and turned to look up at Mikhail. ‘And in the meantime?’

Mikhail quietly repeated her in Russian, glancing around the room and exhaling sharply a second time. ‘We do what we can, the old-fashioned way. Wish me luck.’

‘Break a leg, big boy.’

Cato watched in silence as Mikhail walked up to the front of the room, nervously rubbing his hands together as a string of tics left his lips and he tilted his head to the side a couple of times. Not a fan of speaking for a crowd- and Cato knew that, but encouraged him to do it anyway knowing the other mercs were far more likely to listen to him than to her.

‘Alright, listen up!’ Mikhail yelled, instantly drawing everyone’s attention and silence washed over the room.

‘We are working on an exact location,’ he continued. ‘Might take an hour- might take a day. Longer, who knows. Everyone who’s here today is going to make themself useful; I want teams out in field, eyes and ears on the streets. Vitali won’t be back until tonight and I’m not going to simply sit around and wait for him to return.’

‘Convenient for him, isn’t it?’ someone suddenly said, their voice sharply cutting through the silence of the room. ‘Like earlier, with the raids. With the cargo incident.’

‘What exactly are you implying here?’ Mikhail asked, a dark shadow washing over his face and Cato immediately straightened her back to see who was talking; she knew very well Mikhail was not actually asking for an explanation.

One of the newer mercs, she presumed- short, curly hair and big blue eyes behind glasses, and she had never seen them around before. They opened their mouth to speak again but noticed the warning looks from those around them and wisely kept the rest of their commentary to themself.

‘But what if he’s doing this?’ someone else suddenly broke the silence once more and everyone immediately started talking over each other at once- Cato couldn’t make out much of any of it, but she could hear both agreeing and disagreeing noises erupt from the audience.

‘Who fuckin’ said that?’ she yelled, turning around and putting her hands on her hips as she tried to oversee the crowd; but her height didn’t allow her to see very far and she quickly gave up, eyes slowly trailing her surroundings until she found Vincent, standing miserably by himself in the corner of the room.

Part of her understood why some of the less involved mercenaries would find Vitali’s regular absence suspicious. Those who knew him for longer knew how he liked to be involved in his business- and how he would go out into the field himself more than often to join his mercenaries on gigs or to deal with situations himself.

But the unfortunate timing of it all played right into Matvey’s hands and with each passing day, more and more people seemed to start turning against their fixer.

But Cato would never be one of them.

She had not known Vitali as long as Mikhail and did not know him as well as Vincent, but she didn’t need to. He had offered her shelter and protection after she’d shown up there several years back, on the run from Kang Tao with no other fixer wanting to do business with her because of it- and when Daniil had shown up and had attacked her earlier that year, Vitali had not stopped apologizing profusely to her later that day as if he had attacked her himself.

Cato maneuvered through the crowd, shoving some mercs aside to get to Vincent and she carefully reached out for his arm to get his attention. He merely clenched his jaw and shifted position against the wall, briefly glancing further into the room before redirecting his attention to her.

‘He’s not doing this,’ he quietly said, his voice barely audible above the clamor. ‘He wouldn’t- He would never do something like this.’

‘I know,’ Cato said, softly squeezing his arm as she spoke. She turned around again and straightened her back, clearing her throat before continuing.

‘Everybody shut the fuck up!’

Silence washed over the room and people turned to look at her- some relieved, others annoyed. Cato threw up her hands and gestured at the screen behind Mikhail; once more showing the radar with the map of Night City, and this time with areas marked in bright red where Ravager could be.

‘We’ve got work to do,’ she said, dropping her hands again. ‘All of us, Vitali included. In fact- he’s already been busy since what- six, seven in the morning? And what are you gonks doing, standin’ here? Yelling about whether or not he’s doing all of this himself? I’m sorry, are we talkin’ about the same man here?’

‘This is exactly what his father is trying to do,’ Mikhail chimed in. ‘Trying to create a rift between him and us. Trying to take everything away from him- orchestrate his downfall by launching attacks and trying to shift the blame to him. And I for one am not going to let that happen.’

‘And neither should any of you!’ Cato paused, turning to look at Vincent again and she gave his arm a quick, reassuring tap before moving away and walking over to Mikhail, to join him in front of the rest of the crowd.

‘Ravager escaped. He broke free, and he’s on the loose right now doing lord knows what and right now we’re the only ones who can get his ass back in containment where he belongs. Anyone too much of a pissbaby to help, leave the fuckin’ room right now. We don’t need you here.’

Silence, once more. People nervously glanced around, waiting for any sort of movement; and after a few seconds of nothing, a few of them slowly started making their way back toward the door, gazes glued to the ground, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

‘Thank you for being honest,’ Cato sarcastically called after them. ‘Don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Hey- How’s Matvey’s boot taste?’

‘Cato,’ Lauren quietly said.

‘Bunch of fuckin’ cowards.’ Cato clenched her jaw and took a step back, exhaling sharply when one merc threw up a middle finger in her direction on their way out. Mikhail quickly placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed softly- not that it was all that necessary. Cato wasn’t planning on going after the mercs anyway.

‘Everyone else,’ Mikhail said, ‘make teams of four. Lauren will assign you to an area and I do not want to see you back until you’ve gone through every single street in that neighborhood. Understood?’

‘I need Panam, Thibault and V here with me,’ Cato added. ‘Anyone else can get to work. Let’s find this motherfucker before he hurts someone else.’

She watched in silence as people immediately got on the move, mercs finding each other to form teams and reaching out to Lauren- who disconnected temporarily from the inner circle’s channel- to get an area assigned. The three people she had called out for slowly found their way to her, while Mikhail sat himself down backwards on a chair nearby.

‘Special treatment for us?’ Panam asked, giving Cato a wink while hopping onto one of the desks. ‘What gives?’

‘We’re staying here,’ Cato said. ‘V- please, before you say anything- I know you’re eager to go out, but we gotta stay alert. Might just be another trap or part of Matvey’s plan. If Ravager comes back with reinforcements, we need to be ready.’

‘You’re better off asking Eddie to stay rather than me,’ Thibault said, gesturing at himself with a nervous little smile on his face. It faded the second he realized Cato wasn’t kidding.

‘I know what I’m doing,’ she said. ‘Best of the best. Eds is stronger in the field. We both know that.’

‘No luck with Vitali thus far, he is well out of bounds,’ Mikhail said, resting his arms on the back of the chair and placing his chin on top. ‘Best to assume he won’t be back until sunset, so until then it’s up to us.’

‘I know where he went,’ Vincent said. ‘I can easily go and get him if-’

‘No, V. I think- I think for now this is for the best.’

Cato stayed quiet as she looked between the two of them, biting the inside of her lip. Having the boss there with them in a time of crisis was nice, and reassuring; but she understood why Mikhail didn’t mind that he wasn’t there now, knowing very well Vitali had reached the end of his rope a long, long time ago.

She hoped they would find Ravager back before Vitali’s return. It would be the easiest for all of them- especially Vitali- and with a bit of luck she would be home before dinner and could get a good night’s rest.

The longer the situation lasted, the wearier everyone became.

Understandably so; Matvey had been around for long enough now, if you asked Cato, and she would be glad to have him dealt with sooner rather than later. Even though it had been a while since he himself had shown his face, his lasting influence on both the office and the city as a whole was hard to ignore and Cato wondered how much longer it would take for the situation to escalate for the worse.

With the rising threat of a new attack breathing down their necks, Ravager's escape had a highly unfortunate timing. Cato doubted it was part of the plan- no way Ravager could’ve still had contact with Vitali’s father in his captivity- but she did not want to take any risks either, which is exactly why she was staying behind.

‘All teams have been assigned,’ Lauren suddenly said, her voice audible to all of those still in the room with Cato. ‘I’ll continue monitoring the situation, see if I can close in on a specific location. Connecting you through to Judes right now, she’ll take care of any on-location business while I’m surveilling the Net.’

‘Alright, baby, be careful,’ Cato quickly said, clenching her fists behind her back to prevent her mind from wandering back to what had happened a couple of months ago, when Lauren had almost not woken up anymore after nearly getting fried-

‘Of course, sweetheart. Always.’

And the line went silent.

Cato clenched her jaw and lowered her gaze, unable to look any of her friends in the eyes as she took a moment to calm herself down. There was no need for panic, now; Lauren knew what she was doing and there was no way Matvey would be monitoring them so closely that he would see her diving into the Net and consider it a direct threat.

‘Alright, fuckers, I’m strapped in, let’s get going,’ Judy’s voice suddenly said through her earpiece. ‘Exits are covered, let’s secure any resources we still have and get some weapons ready.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Cato said and nodded at the door, signaling to the others to get a move on.

She lingered behind, waiting for Mikhail to get up from his chair again and briefly turned off her earpiece- and he followed her lead, not questioning it as they waited for the others to leave the room.

‘If we don’t find him before Vitali returns…’ Cato quietly started, but Mikhail shook his head and cut her off.

‘Not for you to worry about,’ he said. ‘As far as he’s concerned this is my operation- I’ll take the blame. We tried reaching him and couldn’t and that is all there is to it. No need to try any harder, we will only be wasting more time.’

Cato knew Vitali did not mind Mikhail handling things for him without discussing anything beforehand; though given the circumstances she feared he would mind now, especially taking into account how Ravager had hurt both Mikhail and Vincent and how Vitali had absolutely not been done with him yet.

‘We should have just kept a closer eye on him,’ he quietly said and shook his head again, reaching out to Cato to tap her twice on her upper arm. ‘Too late for that now. All we can do now is try to get him back, yes?’

‘Yeah,’ she replied, reaching out to grab Mikhail’s hand and she pulled it to her face to plant a kiss on the back of it.

‘Come on. Let’s get to work.’

Another day, another fight.

Vitali flinched involuntarily when the door of the living room slammed shut. He was hidden away in his room, but the noise was more than loud enough to reach him and it echoed through the entire house together with Nadya’s heavy footfalls as she stomped through the hallway toward the front door.

Leaving again. Classic.

Vitali exhaled sharply as the front door slammed shut with similar force, the vibrations shaking the windows and rattling his bones. He glanced at his alarm clock- it was nearly seven in the evening. If he and his siblings wanted to have dinner any time soon he would probably have to make it himself, now.

Nadya had gotten angry at Matvey again.

Of course- what else? He had come home and had dared to look at his laptop after work hours to check his emails and Nadya had instantly decided to pull open her mouth, when she could have easily chosen not to. Matvey had tried to explain himself, she had taken it personally, he had gotten frustrated and the situation had escalated into a ten minute lasting shouting competition with neither party in the right- and one of them significantly more in the wrong than the other.

Vitali barely cared anymore. His parents’ disagreements often boiled down to the same few things and it was impossible to tell anymore which of them had caused the entire chain of dominos to fall in the first place; in the past he had occasionally tried to figure it out, but if anything thinking about it all for too long had only made him feel worse.

The house was eerily quiet now.

Vitali stared outside for a little bit longer, allowing his heartbeat to settle down. Whenever his parents would argue, he would simply not be able to keep himself under control even when in the safety and comfort of his own room, as if their fight was happening right there in front of his eyes and it was all his fault.

He often wondered if it was his fault. He had proven on many occasions to be more than a handful to deal with.

He pushed the thought out of his head and got up from his bed, leaving his room without giving it a second thought. The door to Roksana’s room was slightly ajar; he briefly stopped to peek inside, and gave his sister a soft smile when she waved at him from within the half-finished pillow fort on her bed that she was building with Daniil.

Vitali carefully entered the living room, quickly turning to move into the kitchen, expecting his father to be on the couch- yet much to his surprise he nearly ran right into him and it startled him for some reason, taking a jumpy step back as his heart skipped a beat.

Matvey still wore his Arasaka uniform; he had not even gotten the opportunity to change into something else yet. Jacket off, tie loosened and sleeves of his shirt rolled up as he leaned back into the kitchen counter with his hands solidly placed on top, white-knuckled with his fingers curled tightly around the edge.

He looked exhausted. Vitali was unsure what was going on for him at work, but he knew it hadn’t been easy for some time now; Matvey had been forced to make longer days than usual and it had already happened on multiple occasions that Vitali would come home from a party at four or five in the morning and his father would already be awake and getting ready to leave.

‘Sorry- Am I in the way?’ Matvey asked, noticing Vitali standing indecisively at the dining table.

‘No-! No,’ Vitali quickly responded and walked closer, leaning past his father to grab a glass from next to the sink and reaching for the fridge. ‘Just- wanted a drink.’

He exhaled sharply as he stared at the contents of the fridge, eyes slowly scanning for anything of his liking; and they lingered on the bottle of whisky inside the door for just a little longer than necessary, right before he snatched the carton of apple juice off the top shelf and closed the fridge door with his hip.

The silence that followed was deafening. Just the two of them standing in the kitchen, Vitali slowly pouring himself a glass of juice as his heart nearly pounded out of his chest again from stress. He glanced into his father’s direction; the man had still not moved and merely stared blankly ahead, his grip on the countertop still as tight as before.

‘Long day at work?’ Vitali quietly asked, setting the carton down on the counter and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

‘One crisis after another.’ Matvey slowly shook his head and closed his eyes. ‘I won’t bore you with that. It is nothing for you to worry about.’

‘I mean- I asked.’

Another silence as Vitali briefly considered just walking away again- but instead he pushed his father aside a little and hopped onto the countertop, pulling his legs to his chest as he grabbed his glass and took a sip.

‘What did you do?’ he asked, pretending he hadn’t heard every single sentence of the fight already while Matvey turned to lean sideways against the counter to look at him.

‘I checked my email,’ he bluntly answered. ‘Which is something that I have to do sometimes if I want to keep the job she wanted me to have so badly.’

‘You’d think she would understand, considering she has to do the same.’

‘Hm.’

Vitali bit the inside of his cheek and watched his father fiddle with his watch, eyes absently focused on the sink as if he was in deep thought. He used the moment of silence to lean toward the fridge again and slowly put the carton back inside, hoping the awkward tension that had suddenly arisen would settle down again.

Nadya’s hypocrisy was crystal clear to everyone in the household, yet Vitali was still often the only one brave enough- or stupid enough- to call her out on it. How often she would chew Matvey out for things she herself did too; how often entire fights could have been avoided altogether had she just taken a moment to realize how unfair she was being.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Vitali suddenly asked, slightly startling himself with the wave of confidence as he turned back to look at Matvey.

‘You just did,’ Matvey simply said in response, and the corner of his mouth slightly pulled up when Vitali dramatically rolled his eyes and kicked his foot in his father’s direction.

‘Go ahead.’

‘Why are you two- you know, still together?’

Matvey’s smile faltered.

Vitali clenched his jaw and watched his father slowly rub his hand over his face, eyes wandering off to the living room and then the wall as he took a few steps back. For a single moment he genuinely seemed to think about Vitali’s question- but then a surprisingly sad look in his eyes replaced his thoughtful frown and he lowered his gaze, as he pushed himself away from the countertop.

And Vitali instantly felt bad.

At times, he truly wondered if his parents still loved each other; the way they could barely hold normal conversations anymore, the way they slept in separate rooms and the way there would be days they wouldn’t even look each other in the eyes.

‘I’m- I’m sorry,’ he quietly said, lowering his legs again and letting them dangle down over the edge of the countertop while nervously rubbing his hands over his lap. ‘I didn’t mean to-’

‘It’s alright. I understand.’

Matvey turned around again to look at him and gave him a reassuring nod, putting his hands on his hips as he sighed and averted his gaze.

‘I love your mother,’ he said and Vitali felt his heart drop. ‘I truly do- I always have. And yes, she can be a little stubborn sometimes- and she often says things in the heat of the moment she doesn’t mean- but I- I just-’

He couldn’t finish his sentence.

Vitali lowered his gaze and quickly finished his drink, a sudden knot in his chest causing his head to hurt- the feeling of tears threatening to well up in his eyes.

He understood his father’s frustration more than anyone else; Nadya was impossible to talk to and because of that nothing was ever talked out, and when she would come back after storming out of the front door she always expected everyone to apologize to her but never did any of that herself.

He set his glass back near the sink and carefully hopped off the countertop, eyes finding Matvey again; he had not moved yet, frozen to the ground and eyes staring straight ahead as he took visibly shallow breaths, falling apart at the seams in a way Vitali had never seen him do before.

‘You don’t speak of this to her,’ he suddenly said, not even able to look Vitali in the eyes.

‘Of course not,’ he quickly replied. ‘I would never.’

He could walk away now. Conversation was clearly over.

But something caused Vitali to hesitate and he stood there for just a little longer, thousands of thoughts and questions racing through his mind; and Matvey noticed his hesitation and finally looked at him once more, frowning lightly as he opened his mouth to speak again.

And without thinking, Vitali stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his father, hugging him tightly- something he had not done in years- with his face turned away and pressed solidly into his shoulder.

Matvey tensed up and did not move for a second, and Vitali half expected him to push him away; yet then he relaxed and hesitantly placed his hand on Vitali’s back, absently running it up and down a little the moment he realized Vitali wasn’t going to move away any time soon.

He knew it wouldn’t solve anything.

Nadya would come home that night, Matvey would apologize, they would go to bed in their separate rooms and the next morning everything would go right back to how it had always been. Perhaps Matvey would still be there around breakfast- giving the two of them the opportunity to bicker before either of their day had even started, and if Vitali was lucky enough he would already be awake to witness it happen in real time.

He couldn’t help but wonder, when his parents had last hugged each other.

He slowly let go again and stepped back, hands nervously clasped together as he slowly nodded and let his gaze wander through the entire kitchen, simply to avoid having to make eye contact. Matvey had regained himself now; straightened his back and gestured at the door leading into the hallway, his eyes also searching for anything to focus on other than his son.

‘Go get your siblings,’ he quietly said, a softness to his voice Vitali was not used to.

‘Your mother won’t come back for some hours, anyway. We’re ordering pizza.’

He should never have left.

It had not even been that important anyway; more of a wild guess than an actual possible lead and after an entire day of scouting in Pacifica and part of the Badlands Vitali had managed to draw the conclusion his father’s forces had merely been there to resupply, rather than anything else.

‘He’s entering the Megabuilding now, jefe. First team is at least six minutes away with this traffic- you’re closest as of now.’

He should never have fucking left.

Should have just sent Vincent, like he had offered the day before; should have just let his mercenaries deal with the situation and should have just gone to the office like every day and stay there, be there when his mercenaries would need him.

Vitali tightened his grip on the steering wheel to the point his knuckles hurt and he put his entire weight on the gas. Maneuvered around the other vehicles on the road with ease- the streets of Watson were still cluttered with cars but he was too high on adrenaline to be bothered by any of it, going well over the speed limit as he hurried his way to his destination.

How could he have forgotten about Ravager? Obviously not entirely so- the man had been present in his head just enough for Vitali to not forget to feed him and allow him daily bathroom breaks, but for some reason it had never occurred to him that the cyborg would probably try to escape at some point.

Vitali was not even entirely sure anymore why he hadn’t just killed him yet.

‘He’s taking his sweet time,’ Lauren said. ‘Stairs instead of the elevator. What floor was it again?’

‘Twentieth,’ Vitali absently answered, taking a turn a little too sharply and cutting the curb, swiftly steering around some pedestrians only just managed to jump aside and yelled at him as he passed them by.

It was nearing midnight.

Vitali had been away for the entire day and despite his mercs’ desperate attempts they had been unsuccessful at tracking down Ravager in his absence. Everyone out in the field had already been on their way back to Wellsprings- and then Lauren had suddenly received a ping from another runner in her corner, telling her the ex-Maelstrom merc had been spotted in Little China.

He had taken the metro, to Megabuilding H11.

And Vitali had instantly known something was terribly wrong.

He finally arrived at the entrance- jumped out of his car and sprinted inside, ignoring the looks of the building’s residents as he passed them by. The elevator was already down and he jumped in, knowing very well his leg would not allow him to run up that many sets of stairs; he startled an old lady by accident and quietly apologized while repeatedly slamming the button for the twentieth floor.

‘Need me to send reinforcements over?’ Lauren asked.

‘Have them on stand-by outside,’ Vitali answered, once again glancing in the direction of the old lady and reassuringly gesturing at her that everything was okay. ‘I can handle this myself.’

His eyes briefly moved over the corner of the elevator- the exact corner he had sat in not too long ago, unmoving for nearly an hour as he had been unable to drag himself back up on his feet and go back home. The knot in his stomach tightened and he shakily exhaled, quickly averting his gaze and reaching for the side of the elevator to lean against before he would lose his balance.

It didn’t feel right, being back there. The fight they’d had was still fresh in Vitali’s memory and it was all coming back in waves now the more the elevator ascended.

What could Ravager possibly gain from this? Why go there out of all possibilities- was it payback? An act of revenge- but for what? Directed at Vitali, for holding him in captivity for so long? Directed at Matvey, for not breaking him out?

The elevator came to a stop and Vitali ran out, bolting up the last set of stairs and taking out his handgun. He hoped he wasn’t too late; perhaps Ravager was still a few floors down, perhaps Vitali still had time to intercept him on his way to the apartment-

But the second he entered the hallway and noticed the front door slightly ajar, he knew that wasn’t the case.

Vitali moved forward. Every step heavier than the last, every footfall echoing loudly through the hallway and his head as he once more closed in on the small, remote apartment in Megabuilding H11, gun pointed as steadily as he could at the door and heart nearly beating out of his chest.

What if he was too late? What if he had already-?

‘No cams nearby, I’ve lost you. Talk to me, Vito- what’s happening?’

Vitali reached for the door and for a split second he hesitated again; shaking hand hovering mid-air, fingertips brushing past the cold metal sending a shiver down his spine. He was scared- terrified, holding his breath and biting his tongue until he tasted blood-

And he pushed it open.

‘Vitali? What’s going on? Did you get him?’

He was frozen.

The apartment was still how he remembered it; the same, poorly lit interior with worn furniture, the walls empty, the paint peeling. He still vividly remembered how she had stood there, at the door. How she had stepped aside, had allowed him to enter- had reached up to gently cup his cheeks-

Vitali slowly reached for his hearing aid, switching off the communication channel as he ignored Lauren’s continuous attempts to get him to answer. He could barely keep the gun still but refused to lower it, the barrel pointed right at where he wanted it to go.

They had not heard him enter.

And he did not know what to say.

Could only watch in pure terror as Ravager held Nadya tightly in his arms, her hands cradling his cybernetic face and their lips pressed against each other, a kiss more passionate Vitali had ever expected of her.

His arm felt heavy.

He could no longer hold up the gun and slowly lowered it, a shaky exhale leaving his lips as a frown took shape on his face. For a second, he was no longer sure if he was awake or not- had he fallen asleep behind the wheel? Had someone managed to put a bullet between his eyes during his recon mission and was this hell?

‘Mother?’

She pulled back the second he spoke- as if she had touched fire, pushing Ravager against his chest to get him away from her. And she turned her head, eyes searching- and finding Vitali with ease, the blood draining from her face.

A deafening silence washed over the room. Vitali’s eyes were unfocused; he could barely see straight anymore and the apartment spun around him and for a brief moment he feared he was going to pass out, all by himself in a hostile environment with a loaded gun at the disposal of anyone who wanted to hurt him.

The mere thought of that alone shook him awake again and he grabbed his weapon tightly in both hands, raising it up to Ravager’s chest- the man raised his hands in defense, but the grin on his face told Vitali he felt not even remotely intimidated and was simply playing along.

If he wanted to, he could charge at Vitali and disarm him with ease. And Vitali knew that the both of them were well aware of it.

‘What are you doing here?’ Nadya asked, her voice shaking as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and defensively took a step back.

‘I followed-’ Vitali quietly responded, but for some reason could not find the right words to say. ‘I thought that- I thought he would-’

‘Just get outta here, kid,’ Ravager suddenly interrupted him. ‘This isn’t any of your business. Just walk away.’

Vitali’s stomach turned and he could suddenly almost taste his poor excuse of a lunch from earlier that day in his mouth again, barely able to keep his composure while his chest tightened and he nearly threw up. Nadya muttered something in Russian- but he couldn’t focus on her voice enough to hear any of what she said, the ringing in his ears too overwhelming and the numbness in his head pressing down on his eardrums.

‘What is going on?’ he quietly asked and lowered the gun again, taking a single step toward his mother and ignoring Ravager doing the same. ‘Does he- Does he know?’

His mother didn’t respond.

And that told Vitali enough.

A sarcastic scoff left his lips and he smiled weakly, licking his lips while sticking the gun back in its holster and walking backwards until his back found solid wall. The voice inside his head was screaming at him again- telling him to get out of there, just walk away like Ravager had said-

‘Millions of people in Night City,’ Vitali said in a low voice, slightly tilting his head as his gaze caught Nadya’s again. ‘And you decide to fuck the man who is more of a walking corpse at this point than a human being.’

He felt disgusted.

Of course he had no idea what else had been happening- perhaps Nadya and Matvey were no longer a thing, perhaps it didn’t fucking matter. It shouldn’t matter at all to him, either way- why would he care? It really was none of his business.

Yet something about it all caused him to be sick to his stomach and another scoff left his lips, eyes glossing over again as he felt his entire world start to crumble around him and he felt his shoulders cave in.

‘All he wants is his revenge,’ Nadya said, a sob spilling out of her throat with it and she covered her mouth with her hand, as if she startled herself with it.

‘So you do this?’ Vitali asked, vaguely gesturing around the room. ‘Very mature. I love how your communication skills have developed backwards since I left home.’

‘What could I have said?’

‘What could you- I’m sorry, anything?! You’re his wife, for fuck’s sake!’

‘It would not have changed anything! He hasn’t loved me since the day you were born!’

‘Oh, so now it’s my fault again? How do you keep- He hasn’t loved you since- I’m sorry, are you blind?’

‘Why are you protecting him?’

‘I’m not protecting either of you- I’m just fucking baffled by your stupidity! Not every bad thing in your life is caused by others, you know that? The world doesn’t fucking revolve around you!’

‘And it doesn’t revolve around you either!’

‘Yet you seem very insistent that I am single-handedly ruining every fucking aspect of your life when you could have easily decided to just get a fucking divorce at any point in time and walk away like you have always wanted to do!’

Vitali’s words nearly echoed through the room and dead silence followed, his chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. He was seething again- the same red hot anger he had felt before raging through his system once more and fighting to get out, everything he had always wanted to say to his mother rolling off his tongue before he could reconsider any of it.

‘I don’t know what went wrong between you two but you should both be ashamed of yourselves,’ he panted, instinctively wiping his mouth with the back of his hand- half expecting there to be blood on it when he pulled it back.

‘I didn’t mean for this to happen,’ Nadya quietly cried in response.

‘For what to happen? This? Or for me to find out about it?’ Vitali paused, glancing at Ravager and huffing softly. ‘Hear that? Apparently you were a mistake.’

‘Hey- I have just about the same amount of stakes in this as you,’ Ravager simply replied and raised his hands in defense again. ‘I honestly don’t give a shit. I’m just here for a good time. You’re the one losin’ your damn marbles about it.’

With each passing second, Vitali started to regain himself more and more and he suddenly felt- embarrassed. His cheeks started to burn and an involuntary, strangled chuckle left his lips.

Ravager had a fair point- why was Vitali even trying to argue? Why did he care?

‘There are so many other things you could have done instead of this,’ he quietly said, redirecting his attention to his mother. ‘I don’t- I don’t get it.’

Nadya had always had something to say to him.

But now, she was quiet.

Stared at him with wide, hazy eyes, and she looked terrified- of him, perhaps? No longer the woman she used to be- far from it and somehow worse than Vitali remembered, the display of feigned shock and fear more frustrating to him than her pure rage and seething hatred for him when he had been younger.

‘There is nothing to get.’ Ravager scoffed and shook his head, clearly enjoying himself thoroughly as he continued. ‘If you’ve been gone for so many years- what do you really know? You weren’t there to see it. Who are you to have any say in any of this?’

Vitali wasn’t listening anymore.

He turned around, ignoring his mother saying his name- once, twice, trying to get his attention- but he was already out of the door and stumbling through the hallway, squinting his eyes at the sudden bright light and barely able to keep his balance.

He was just confused, now.

He had not been inside for more than ten minutes and yet he could already barely remember how it had gone- only one third of his own words still lingering in his brain and none of Nadya’s, he hadn’t really cared about any of her responses and not a single one of them had stuck.

The knot in his stomach finally tightened and so did his throat, seconds before he fell to his knees and threw up on the cold, concrete floor of the building. No one around to help him back up on his feet, this time; it was just him and the big, gaping hole in his chest of which he wasn’t really sure why it was suddenly there.

Nothing more than childish revenge.

Nadya’s stakes in the matter were crystal clear to him now. He finally understood why she had stuck around- and now she could finally leave if she wanted to, her newly found love back in her arms and enough money in her pocket to comfortably retire if she so pleased.

He wondered where she would go. The east coast? Another country?

He dragged himself back up on his feet, shivering and shaking and his hands freezing cold. For a split second, he wanted to go back- take out his gun and put a bullet between Ravager’s eyes, and a second one, and a third, and a fourth. Wanted nothing more than to tear his dead body to shreds with his bare hands, burn his remains, bury the ashes deep underground-

I want to go home.

A choked sob left Vitali’s lips and he suddenly felt exhausted.

Why did he even bother anymore? With every passing day it became harder and harder for him to keep going and he kept learning things that made him feel even worse than before; and he knew that none of it should matter. His family didn’t want him back anyway.

And yet there he was, spilling more tears for them as if it would help wash away his sorrows and his pain, as if it would undo everything time had done to them and bring back the days where everything had been good, when his parents had loved each other so- and had still loved him.

If they had ever even done that to begin with.

Back in the elevator, Vitali reached for his hearing aid again and switched the communication channel back on. Lauren immediately said something to him- but her words didn’t reach him anymore, his mind completely elsewhere as the elevator slowly began descending.

‘Everything is fine,’ Vitali bluntly said, suppressing another sob and straightening his back- regaining his composure, for nobody in particular. ‘You can call everyone back- Ravager is not our problem anymore.’

In hindsight, he didn’t know why he hadn’t just killed him. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to do that in front of his mother- but she had worked for Arasaka Security long enough to be more than familiar with death and this wouldn’t have been any different.

Vitali bit the inside of his cheek, Lauren’s voice reassuringly in his ear yet none of what she said made sense to him anymore. He leaned against the wall and rested his head against the cold glass of the elevator, closing his eyes as he opened his mouth one last time to speak.

‘I’m going home.’

[mygnolia]

to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, action ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 17k (i’m sorry idk why either.)

⭒ INCLUDES -› SPOILERS FOR GREAT GATSBY, cursing, non-graphic injuries (reader discretion advised), yes i made the patching up with first aid kit trope SUE ME!! takes place in a busy city similar to new york never specified, reader is rich, jake and heeseung are seniors and riki’s a junior, is riki stupid? yes… jake reveals stuff because he is also a little silly, reader wears a red dress!

⭒ GREAT GATSBY -› basically jay gatsby has this weird amt of money but no one rlly knows how he got it (nefarious reasons) and hes been in love with this girl daisy for five years but then she got married to tom buchanan but he gets rich so he can get the house across from her and wistfully watch her and he pines after her like CRAZY but he dies at the end

⭒ REN SAYS...special huge fat kiss to thena @sensitively-taken you will be in the will when im a millionaire THANK YOU for helping me with so much of this I WUV U AND I WLL BE WAITING FOR UR HUENING FIC!!! | LIBRARY

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM PRE-ADULTHOOD STRESS, IF THAT’S EVEN A THING.

What exactly does Riki have to worry about as a seventeen-year-old junior in high school? Right now, his most daunting responsibility is catching up on the chapters of The Great Gatsby because the only thing Riki’s actually read from the novel is that the main character shares a name with his best friend and senior, Park Jay. His second most daunting responsibility is handling the fact that with the new seating chart in his Literature class, it means he’s sitting next to the object of his very subtle affections, you. 

See, the problem with having a crush on you is that Nishimura Riki’s committed to thinking that you’re way out of his league, and unfortunately, the boy believes that almost too well. Not only are you minted beyond his wildest dreams (having seen your posts on social media), but you’re hardworking, helpful, and dedicated to your role as student body treasurer. He’s already understood that you’d never go for a guy like him. Maybe someone more like Park Sunghoon, whose parents’ salary matches yours. If Riki lived in a rural estate with generational wealth, handling the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing might be a bit easier for him, considering he wouldn’t have to try so hard in school. It might even change the fact that Riki dealt with some alleyway criminals last night and is currently catching up on lost sleep, as your English Literature teacher goes on and on about a project on the book you’re reading. 

In class, and even sometimes outside of the classroom, your small tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings has landed you in some awkward situations—like now. 

“I don’t really tell anyone this, but I hate Daisy.” And instead of getting a response, you glance over to see Nishimura Riki slumped on the desk. Without trying to make preconceptions about what could land him in a situation like this, you poke his arm, stifling a smile at how his eyes widen when you’ve caught him rubbing the very obvious sleep from his eye. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, still fighting the post-nap grogginess, “Did I miss anything?” 

(Nope.)

Shaking your head, you return your attention to your teacher as he continues to answer questions. The second Mr. Yoo assigned a report, you wanted to die even more considering the work you had to do on top of the impending due dates. But for it to be partnered? And for you to get seated and paired with the one boy who's known for not caring about school? Maybe things are a little stacked against you, but there has to be a reason why Riki’s somehow still passing all his classes…right?

Considering it’s the last assignment about the book, you’re glad that you already read it so many times to know what you want to put into words. And in retrospect, answering a few open-ended questions about it can’t be that hard—the hardest part would be getting your partner to stay awake in class. 

A small tap at your side makes you turn to face Riki, who you see has frantically written a page full of notes about the project in the past three minutes and how he can succeed. “Can you go over the first part? Sorry…I was…y’know.” 

“It’s a partner project. And we’re partners.” You wince at the awkward wording. 

Great! Riki was caught sleeping and that was your first impression of him for your paired assignment? Riki feels so stupid in front of you right now—in front of your meticulous notes with annotations and proper highlighting. He wants to curl up into a ball when he sees you glance over at his haphazard attempt to look like he was paying attention when, in truth, he was trying to remember the dream he had just ten minutes prior. When you offer him a small smile and nod, leaning over with your notebook in hand, he sighs in relief, thanking whoever it was that let him get away with his naps without the consequence of irritating you afterwards. 

The bell rings when Mr. Yoo stops talking, and you pause, startled by the sound. Instead of leaving, however, you pack your bag and shuffle to his side of his desk, continuing to parrot details about your report in hopes that it all makes sense. You need to make sure he knows what he’s doing. 

“I think one of the questions he mentioned was like ‘Is Gatsby a good person?’ and do you remember how in Chapter Eight…” The rest gets zoned out and forgotten in the boy’s head, because he in fact does not know what happened in Chapter Eight. He doesn’t know what happened…in any part of the book. But he agrees anyway, pretending like he understands what scene you’re trying to explain. What he notices is how thorough and dedicated you are towards ensuring he comprehends what you’re explaining, and although it could be because you don’t want him to fail you both, he chooses to believe you’re doing it because you tolerate him. 

You’re so engrossed in covering all the little details and telling him random tidbits regarding the book that you don’t realize your feet have made it all the way to the cafeteria. “But here, let me get your number. I’ll totally explain more over text.” 

Riki is definitely not freaking out when he silently grabs his phone and hands it to you with the contact page, staring a little longer than necessary at the cute smiley face you added to your name. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the ten digits of your number, “For helping me with this, too.”

“Of course! The Great Gatsby is a fun read for me. A little hard to read sometimes because of some of the characters, but still easy to understand.” And Nishimura RIki realizes that he has to do well. He’ll read the book five times over if it means gaining your approval. 

Jake notices something a little different about the tuft of black and blonde hair when his friend walks in. The first thing is that he’s actually here, and that you’re next to him, smiling. The boy rubs his eye to make sure he’s not dreaming somehow, but when he looks up again, you’re waving goodbye and joining your friends across the room. 

“Did you get hit with something while fighting a villain that makes you more bold? I feel like I just saw you and ____ talking,” Jake starts when Riki finally joins him with his lunch. 

Riki laughs, shoving Jake’s head out of embarrassment and opening his chips. “It’s just school. Got some project in English and she says we’re partnered.” He looks over at his friend chuckling, rolling his eyes at how Jake pokes at his side and wiggles his eyebrows. 

“I better hear you two are dating by next week.” 

“Who’s dating by next week?” Heeseung places his bag of food in front of them and takes a seat, opening the fast food he got last period and stuffing a fry in his mouth. 

“Riki and ____. Let me have one,” Jake answers, reaching inside the bag. 

Heeseung looks over at his junior curiously. “You asked her out?” And the two older students hear a groan from the boy in question. 

“Me and ____ aren’t anything, for your information.” He prods at the vegetables on his tray and takes a bite before a look of displeasure washes over his face. “You’re both way too excited for two guys who do not have girlfriends.” 

“Hey! You know the girl I’m always fighting with is the reason why I’m single. I have to focus on studying to do well in school to do better than her.” Heeseung’s whining falls on deaf ears as Riki smiles victoriously, seeing how defensive the former got. 

Jake offers him a shrug of defeat. “I got nothing.”

The three of them fall into normal conversation and Riki finally explains everything that happened during English.  “So you’re telling me your plan to ask ____ out went down from 18 months to 6?” And with a nod from the younger, they both groan once more. Heeseung exclaims, “We’re both going to graduate, dumbass. Make the plan go down to like…two months? Please?” 

Jake cuts in before Riki has a chance to respond. “Make it one and a half, so we can see you with a prom date before leaving forever.” 

“You act as if you’re going to die after graduation. It’s like you’re begging to be a super senior.” 

And they’re silenced immediately. 

“Do you think the guy I was with earlier hates me?” you ask on the other side of the room. Minjeong stares at you blankly, waiting for your explanation. “I don’t know if you saw when I walked in but I was talking to this really tall guy with blonde hair and black tips. He seemed really out of it, like he kept staring at me and nodding. I think I scared him off by talking about the book too much.” 

Sunghoon, who is also listening in, opens his neatly packed lunchbox and begins mixing his noodles. “I think you did scare him off, ____.”

“Not helping,” Minjeong interjects, “Just talk to him more and maybe he’ll warm up to you. You two sit together in class anyways, so hopefully he’ll talk more?” 

“I know him,” Sunghoon comments, “Well, sort of. I’m friends with Jake who’s friends with Riki, and it seems like all that boy does is sleep.” 

“Maybe he’s really good at subconscious in-class comprehension?” you try, taking a bite of your sandwich. “I just hope it doesn’t interfere too much with treasurer stuff.” 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE IF HE SWINGS INTO ANOTHER WALL AT 100MPH LIKE HOW HE ALMOST DID TONIGHT.

All he’s had on his mind since school ended till now is how he should probably text you, if he really discarded the slimy acid monster from last week properly, and when the prom theme is going to be released, but there’s something amiss that confuses his spidey-senses and makes Riki much more alert. 

He snaps out of whatever train of thought he had before, focusing on the situation at hand and looking around to follow his instinct. Riki cautiously plants himself on the side of a random apartment building to get a sense of what's going on. A tingle of some sort of in the air permeates the material of his suit and leaves him shivering from the cold. 

He doesn't like it one bit. 

Moving to the side of the building to the top, the boy finally catches a glimpse of something when he gets a decent view of the city and highway systems. Riki knows something’s wrong with the bridge the closer he gets. He zips from one side of the tall, metal tower to the other, crawling down on all fours making sure he isn’t caught. He feels the electric feeling once more, only amplified. It runs up his spine and he wants to slap it, almost like a frantic, summertime bug. The air around him is charged with something he has never recognized before. With a puzzled expression under his mask, Riki continues to investigate the surrounding area. 

Riki finds a lone figure with some sort of attachment to his left arm, like a long glove made out of metal. The bulkiness of it seems to have no impact on his body as the man fiddles with the contraption, and the boy watches with bated breath as the machine fizzes and spurts with electricity. It begins to glow as power concentrates on his plated palm and the superhero sees it for the first time. It’s like a fizz, like a match striking at fire only to produce a quick burst of friction, but it almost feels liquid when he watches the person play with the flickering blue ball of electricity. It dances in the dark in a hauntingly beautiful way, with bolts jutting out from the metal as it spurts and buzzes with a life-like manner. 

A spark. 

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sound of Riki’s voice from the end of the bridge causes the stranger to look up with wide eyes. Although Riki fully expects it to simply enhance strength or block damage, the immediate strike of blue that flies straight towards him is anything but defensive. With a yelp, he jumps away, this time refusing to show himself. 

What the hell was that?

He knows he should go back down there to change things and get the person and the metal pieces away before it escalates, but when he goes back down to watch, it's ten times worse. The bright blue illuminates the scarred face of the villain as he’s picked up the metal arm–but this time, it’s no longer clunky and sparking, but fused into his arm. 

Riki’s face pales at the sudden change before his body acts on its own and he shoots out a web to stop the man. 

The villain is shocked by the intrusion, but quickly yanks free from the webbing and flicks another bolt of electricity, one that flies much faster now that the metal flows into the arm instead of simply resting on the skin. It’s unlike something Riki has ever seen, something that is so controlled in motion and yet so erratic in nature, and it instills a deathly fear when it grazes his arm he hisses in pain. The sharp feeling springs Riki into action as he jumps away. He’s lucky another bolt isn’t sent his way, seeing how the villain’s too busy marveling at the power of his new gadget.

“You know that fucking hurts, right?” He yells out, cupping his wound. “Maybe leave the gadgets to the kids!”

The man scoffs. “It better have hurt. I sacrificed half my body for this to work.”

“But why?” All Riki wants is answers. Some sort of explanation.

The man charges up yet another bolt, almost like a laser gun is built into the machine. “Less talking, more running, Spiderman.” 

That scared the shit out of him. 

The boy doesn’t have time to think as he jumps out from the dark tunnel to the bridge and up the metal towers—he hates having to fight with people right below. The villain follows in pursuit, almost crumbling the metal with his engineered arm as he hoists himself quickly. Riki continues to jump between the structure to avoid the flashes, trying to get out and apprehend the man as quickly as possible. When he reaches the top, however, he feels death is near as he glances down at the villain below who’s quickly gaining on him. He shoots out webs to slow him temporarily, letting himself fall and swing from the side of the tower to escape. 

What he doesn’t see on the way across the bridge is the flash that misses his cheek and hits his thigh instead. It burns, and mid-air, Riki gives the wound a quick assessment before he lands on the metal, immediately forcing his body to climb. While dealing with his wound, he fails to notice the villain swinging from the bridge support lines to meet him. 

He needs to end this fast before he becomes burnt toast.

Riki doesn’t often rely on instinct to carry him, but he can tell that the villain he’s facing isn’t just a criminal. 

“Land another hit, would you?” he tries to say, his voice strained from the pain in his arm and leg. It doesn’t do much to deter the man in front of him as the arm continues to destroy and bend the metal on the way up. “What are you going to do now, Sparky?”

The man says nothing, charging energy into his metal glove again before aiming and focusing on the target: him. 

Riki jumps off, not able to properly land his web in the right spot as he goes from one section of the bridge to the other. The man behind him looks enraged at the boy’s attempt to escape—so much so that he reaches out with his normal hand to try to grasp the suit when Spider-Man swings past him. Instead of the feeling of fabric, the villain feels sticky spider fluid on his fingers. Riki shoots out a web, one that curls around the villain’s wrist and drags him off the tower. Instead of being able to launch him into the surrounding waters, the man slips from the poorly shot-out webs and falls from mid air into the sea of frantic cars, including one semi truck that collides directly with his arm. In the air, the boy winces when he hears honks and shouts from the impact, hoping it’s the last time he’ll have to witness it.

With his gaze trained on the falling figure, the weakly attached web breaks, and Riki all of a sudden starts falling down as well. He curls up defensively before bracing for impact, curling into himself when he feels the metal dent and the truck driver scream from outside of the parked vehicle, the body of the villain right in front of it. 

Riki staggers, holding onto his arm and thigh the best he can before getting up. With wobbly steps and a small jump, he lands near the unconscious man, whose metal arm is cracked and fizzling—something that Riki knows is bound to leave more scars. 

“Call the police. I’ll get rid of the pieces.” Although Riki wants to figure out who the criminal is and make sure he’s properly apprehended, the gashes in the boy's limbs leave him winded and exhausted. With hot metal scraps bound together by webbing in his hands, Riki swings out and dumps it somewhere rural, trying his best to cover the pieces with the pounding headache that 

Riki revisits the secluded spot under the bridge, looking for clues to the man’s identity, and his expression falls when he notices a lanyard dangling near a trash can. 

His name, his position, and the company. FLiGHT Corp. The company name caught the boy’s eye, and he pockets the item before leaving. 

It seemed like he was a normal research scientist, but Riki’s recollection of the scars and tattered skin leaves him retracting his last thought. He heard something about the failure of a time travel machine at FLiGHT, and if the mass of the incident was anything to go by, he was in the center of it. 

No matter how many times Riki tries to get it out of his head, on the way home, all he can think about is the inexperience he displayed and the lack of response he gave Riki during the whole time. But Riki can’t bring himself to really take away someone’s life—and maybe for that, he’s a horrible superhero. 

He knows he should stop the man before it's too late, and especially with how many self-proclaimed villains there have been, it's not easy to see so many innocent people ruin their lives chasing a power that inevitably consumes them. He knows it’ll only get worse if he lets them run free.

And while the superhero has never been fully honest with himself, there are many times where Riki hates his role as Spider-Man, and wishes that he was just some teenage boy who didn't have the lives of others in his palm. He wishes he didn't have to sacrifice so much to stay behind a mask—and he wonders deep down if there’s anyone else who felt the same. 

His swings lead him across the city above hundreds of lives he has to protect, and he tries to find some semblance of peace. He thinks about how he has his homework due despite having just risked his life, he thinks about how your project is going—and about you. 

In the night under the stars, Nishimura Riki wishes for something just a bit normal. He wishes a good night for himself, but also for you, wherever you could be.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM TRYING TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE NIGHT.

The Great Gatsby is exactly like how you described it; a little hard to get through but fun with the plot’s eccentric characters. He’s pretty sure he could’ve just used a detailed SparkNotes explanation for the book, but having a crush can make someone do weird things. And in Nishimura Riki’s case, his infatuation has got him reading a novel about morally-skewed characters and rich society to impress you. 

When you come into class barely on time, Riki gives you a confused look when you sit down, but doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead, he takes out his book and tries to act like his eyes weren’t closing shut from exhaustion by the time Daisy was finally confessing how she loved Gatsby. 

The moment Mr. Yoo stops talking, however, Riki isn’t asleep—much to your surprise. He has his book out, pages filled with sticky notes and a whole section of his notebook dedicated to characters (written in bright red to keep him awake) and their traits. 

“I got it.” It’s the first thing he says when you two are left to do in-class work. It’s ominous, and maybe a little too enthusiastic in a high school literature class for a boy who doesn’t even care that much for school, but you’ll accept it with open arms if it means you get a helping hand on your project. 

“Continue,” you tell him slowly, leaning back in your chair to listen to him. And you don’t know why, but a small part of you thinks that the boy who sleeps every period the book was discussed wouldn’t have much to say or contribute to such an open-ended prompt, but life is full of surprises. 

What you fail to notice is how Riki is nervous and his stomach does at least twenty flips before he swallows dryly and starts rambling in hopes to impress you and redeem himself from his embarrassing slumber a few days ago. 

“So you know how our prompt is based on one character and basically all their actions?” he asks, and you nod, absentmindedly thumbing a sheet in your journal. “I’m thinking we should talk about Jay Gatsby because so much is revealed to us about him that we might as well use it to our advantage. Y’know, talking about how the theme of exploitation and secrets is veiled under Gatsby’s desire for Daisy.”

“You don’t think Gatsby’s a good character?” Riki wants to tell you that Gatsby is more relatable than good or bad, but he shakes his head. 

“I mean, not really.” He feels like with those four words, he’s completely changed the trajectory of his relationship with you from a positive slope to completely downhill—and a wave of panic washes over him. “Should I? I mean, I could see him as more redeemable if you gave me examp-“

You wave your hand to quell his worries. “To be honest, I don’t like him either. But he’s an interesting main character to write about, so I think we should go with your idea.” 

To win your approval feels like he’s won at least three fights against a villain in a row without getting any bad injuries—it feels good. And for the rest of the period, you are able to finish a detailed outline of your work for the next few weeks, mapping out sections for each other, and he even gets to see a part of prom planning on a word document you had open. He considers your shared productivity a win when he packs up and bids you goodbye before leaving for lunch. 

One wave doesn’t catch Riki’s attention from across the room. Not even two, or three calls of his name could get Nishimura Riki out of his thoughts, and Jake frowns before moving up in the lunch line. 

“Something’s caught your eye again.” Jake feigns innocence and sighs dramatically as he places the food down next to Riki’s plate. “Could it possibly be our school treasurer?” Jake laughs, leaning over to catch a glimpse of what’s got his friend so entranced and non-responsive.

Riki scrunches his nose, annoyed, but never breaking his gaze from where you’re sitting. “We talked in class–like, a lot,” is all he says, paying his friend no mind. “She’s genuinely so understanding.”

“God, I don’t think you can be any more down bad for her than you are right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he notices you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last week. Let me have this before I die tomorrow.” 

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair, “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response. 

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.” 

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.” 

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.” 

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.” 

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up in my suit. Do that cheesy upside down kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spider-Man thing, but prom definitely.” 

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter. 

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“What’s your project about, anyways? Didn’t you tell me last night that she gave you her number? Must be pretty serious if she wants to text you.” Riki furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. 

“It’s just tying the theme of the book to one character and writing about how they show it. So we did the theme of money and Gatsby, because it’s easy and mentioned so many times.” 

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

“I was planning to read it regardless of who I was partnered with.” 

“Okay- that’s debatable.” There goes another one of Riki’s nachos.

“Gross.” 

He thinks things are going pretty well for you two. The report is being written and your quotes are basically finding themselves, so Riki should give himself a pat on the back for pitching the initial idea for how to go about your assignment. Maybe reading the whole book offered him a few useful pointers, and he goes to sleep that night satisfied with your progress. Maybe Heeseung and Jake were right—maybe he could finally ask you out by prom. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO SAVE THE CITY FROM YET ANOTHER MONSTER TERRORIZING THE STREETS.

He wakes up the next morning, not expecting his alarm to alert his senses to danger. It rings in his head and makes him feel delirious, trying to shake sleep off as he looks out the window for any visible sign of what's wrong. If he could hear the danger in his head then that meant someone could be hurt, and he could go to school without a few hours of sleep if he worked fast enough, right? 

Riki slips into his suit without much thought and goes to crack his window open, only to look back at his clock and read the horrific time of 6:23AM. 

Who the hell picks a fight with a teenager at this ungodly time? 

Then, he shoots from his wrists, once, twice, and suddenly, he's off, covering more ground through the air in just three seconds than he ever could while walking or running for minutes on end.

The source of his tingling spidey-sense is some large metal centipede creature that was setting off car alarms in a neighborhood near the market. Thankfully, no one was really awake to be caught in the crossfire, but he has to figure out how the hell he's going to catch that thing in...he checks his watch…twenty minutes? 

Hopefully, his instinct will help him win this time—again. 

The web he shoots out does nothing to stop the monster, and considering how it connected them both, the threads only drag the superhero to the edge of the building he was initially watching from. With some yelling and pulling, he finally detaches, and realizes that the odd sizzling feeling in his bonds must be from the same source as a few days ago; Spark. 

He had this gut feeling that a villain as strong as him wouldn’t have been destroyed so easily, but his wounds were so deep and the blood loss so bad from a few nights ago that he couldn’t have truly dumped him in the ocean without fainting or suffering something permanent, and although Riki hoped things in the universe would work itself out, the presence of the giant fifty foot insect alone is proof that things were not in his favor. 

He jumps off the building onto another, working quickly as he strings up a few webs between the houses as a wall for the monster, watching it slide and knock over cars in its wild pursuit. The monster spends a few seconds breaking down the wall of webbing and climbing over it, the many legs easily breaking through. As the superhero jumps across buildings and keeps track of the centipede’s movement, he has no idea why it isn’t going for him, and that makes his job much harder without the attention of the monster. One glance at the direction the centipede is headed in sets off another ding in Riki’s head—but this time, it finally clicks why the centipede is headed away from the boy. 

It’s attracted to the power plant. 

Riki immediately jumps and swings off of a lamp post, using the momentum of gravity and the force of his swing to propel him faster than the slithering creature. Squinting, he holds out his fist and points his pointer and pinky out, following the movement of the centipede as he aims. 

Bam. 

He sends clusters of silky white threads down precisely at the first pair of legs to pin it down. The webs stop the creature momentarily, and Riki doesn’t have time to watch how the body shrinks up and fizzes out with blue shocks as it tries to wiggle loose and malfunctions. This fight would be over soon, and the boy smiles when he jumps down to shoot more webs to apprehend the centipede. It wiggles and sends electricity out through parts of its body, trying to pry itself out. He expects it to simply be a robot of sorts following a mission considering its avoidant behavior, but as he approaches the tail, the monster suddenly swings at Riki, and its mass and speed is incomparable to the boy’s reaction speed. 

Riki lands into a tree and someone’s garage, feeling the crumbling wall falling all over him and the sudden pain blooming in his lower back. 

This fight will, in fact, not be over soon. 

With his superhuman abilities, Riki grabs onto the metal of the car beside him to hoist himself up, coughing from the dust, and jumping over the rubble to see how quickly the centipede creature can get out, without regard for his current state. The sound and rumble of the giant monster is all he needs to know that the traps are effective, but not at the previous capacity. 

The plan is simple: apprehend the legs and crush the head, where Riki assumes the decision-making and programming is taking place. But the monster’s angry and erratic actions throw a wrench in his plan. Its legs move faster, digging into the cement and leaving ruin in its wake as it continues down the road. While both the villain and superhero are fast, the distance between the power plant is finite—and only grows smaller and smaller.  

Although Riki can feel the bruises coming, he runs and swings, hearing the wind in his ears as he catches up to the centipede in no time. He tries the same tactics again–aim, shoot, stick, all the while keeping his distance. Although the monster’s body spans incredibly long, and should carry an immense amount of weight, the way it snaps at Riki’s flying body and sends shockwaves through his core leaves him shivering as his body slams into the ground, coughing. It hurts all over, and it feels like there’s weight on his eyes when he tries to open them and get up. His head is spinning as he staggers onto his knees, clutching his chest as he watches the centipede shrivel and crackle. 

It seems like the voltage produced is a double-ended sword, one that burns up the centipede body as much as it deals damage, and with the way the mutant creeps towards the electricity of the plant, Riki gets the feeling there’s a magnetic pull that forces the mutant to continue to crawl even against its instinct to stop. 

Despite his waning strength, however, Riki knows better than to half finish the job like last time. He creates a net from experience, weaving together the thickest and most durable threads to trap the entirety of the slowly approaching creature. It seems to crawl slowly up the makeshift barrier, knocking its head against the white and spreading the bright blue waves of its energy throughout. The boy watches as the thin white mass absorbs all of it and clings to the creature. It works, finally, after his attempts to nullify its movements, and he knows that despite the ache in his every step, the almost mummified centipede that hangs between several roofs for all the neighbors to gawk at is his sure sign of victory. 

All he remembers is hearing a familiar call of his hero name before his legs give out and his head hits Jake’s chest. 

Holy fucking shit is the first thing Riki thinks when he wakes up. 

He’s not out of his tattered suit and he feels grimy all over, but his body has done wonders in reducing the otherwise fatal injuries he got. No human body should be able to withstand two energy-filled blasts, but his suit and superhuman healing are of greater help than ever in alleviating the damage from his wounds. 

He knows why he’s in his bed with bandages thrown over his open wounds. He knows that every time something like this happens, it’s Jake who shoos away the concerned civilians, telling them he’s a medic. Jake is not a medic—rather, he’s a seventeen year-old boy who knows about his friend’s double life and with all the times he’s saved Riki, someone might as well dub him the greatest medic of all time. 

The clock on his bedside table has only served as a bearer of bad news. He looks over to see how it’s practically midday, and he’s missed yet another day of school from fighting crime. He’s in no condition to get up or get his bag, seeing how his hair is frizzy and his cheek has a cut that would warrant questioning. It seems only fair that he stays absent, and before he falls back asleep, he only prays you aren’t too mad at him for leaving the seat next to you empty.

But you aren’t mad, just worried. The soreness in his muscles doesn’t go away though, and he groans when he sits up in his bed, with bandages around his arms and an ice pack discarded next to him. 

He’s most definitely not coming to school like this. 

While you bore holes into the clock hanging off the wall, that doesn’t speed up the time. Two minutes pass, then another minute. As your classmates find their partners and begin discussing, you notice how the room gets louder with the due date looming near. It’s the first time you’re alone without the familiar boy beside you, and something hangs low in your chest when you put in a pair of earphones and open your laptop. 

Riki’s absence should have no effect on you. After all, you’re both just high school students who’ve talked once or twice, and yet you still look over at the empty chair. Staring doesn’t make Riki appear, though, and you return to your edits. It feels empty without his insight, or without him asking you to help him with a passage. Riki was your solution to all things boring. If he wasn’t doing his work, then you two were laughing at something on his phone. And if you agreed to both do something other than the report, then you could ask for an extra opinion when deciding prom details. There was something freeing about working with him that attracted you. Riki knew how to lighten the mood on days that weren’t so good for you, but he also worked hard and let loose at the same time. There was a perfect balance in Riki’s life that you aspired to have; it was a good mix of playful, dedicated, and fun all in the same vein. 

The words blend together on your screen. Jay Gatsby this, Tom Buchanan that, it all looks monotonous the more you keep trying to read and comprehend what exactly you’re talking about. 

Before class is dismissed, Mr. Yoo steps to the front of the classroom to gather everyone’s attention. He introduces your new novel for the next month, explaining yet another large assignment associated with the text. 

Truth be told, you don’t pay attention to any of it. 

The only thing you remember to do is to grab extra copies of the printed graphic organizers, as you get out of your seat and rush out when class ends in pursuit of one specific boy. 

“Sim Jaeyun!” The call of his name diverts Jake’s attention from his phone to your waving arm as you weave through the students and finally reach him. 

“You can just call me Jake,” he explains, “what’s up?” 

You begin to reach into your backpack, trying to feel for your folder, and pull out a few sheets. “These are for Riki.” 

Jake cheers internally for his friend who’s busy recovering at home. “What, you got a crush on him or something?” 

He tries to play it cool by teasing you, but the smile you bite back leaves the boy questioning if there really is anything going on. Jake knows better than to tell you anything about Riki’s feelings, and opts to instead grab the papers and to thank you for looking out for his friend. 

“Is Riki okay?” You have to know, just to make sure he’ll be here tomorrow to cure your boredom. 

What Jake says is much different than the nonchalant wave and half grin he gives you. “He’s just bedridden.” 

“That’s pretty serious! Did he come down with anything?” He seemed fine yesterday, so what’s the catch?

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.” 

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up. 

Your confusion and silence answers him far more than words ever could–he basically hears the gears turning slowly in your head.

Jake weakly defends, “His parents had a fight with him because he hit his head or something. He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Just bedridden from sadness, y’know?” 

The look you give him is unconvinced, but when Heeseung pats him on the shoulder and waves to you, the boy realizes that maybe staying quiet would’ve been the better decision. 

“I’ll see you later, ____.” And he’s off, waving half-heartedly and dragging a very confused Heeseung out of the cafeteria. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP AS GENTLY AS HE CAN.

Ever since March started and flowers began to bloom, your energy seemed to do the opposite, dwindling until Riki catches you mirroring his frequent in-class action: sleeping. And it worries him beyond belief, because you’re not the type to fall asleep like… ever. However, Riki does not have the heart to wake you up, even if it’s with a little nudge that you probably barely feel with how light he taps. It breaks his heart to have to ask you to review what he has done, because the bell is about to ring and the teacher might just send you to detention if he catches you off-task. 

The allergies always make Mr. Yoo irritable, and Riki knows not to get on his nerves. 

Your eyes flutter open to the pokes and prodding from none other than Nishimura Riki, who gazes at you softly when you adjust to the bright classroom setting once more. 

Panic settles in. “Wait- how long was I sleeping for?” 

He shrugs and scrunches his nose, not giving you an answer as he finishes scribbling something in his notebook. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Your hand squeezes into a fist at the frustration that you’ve let your partner down. 

And yet, Riki seems to be unfazed, frowning when he sees you stressing out. “Don’t ever sweat the little things, yeah? If there’s anything you ever need to talk about–trust me, I know what it’s like to have a lot of pressure on your shoulders.”

Smiling at him, you respond with, “Thank you, really.” 

Being treasurer is daunting in the spring. It’s full of requests, forms, and small tasks that leave you spent by the end of the day. “But,” you glance at the clock to see just how much time is left, “how’d you know?” 

He motions to your open computer with a now dark screen. “I saw your document pulled up. ____’s tasks or else she will be kicked out of student government,” he taunts, snickering when your eyes grow wide with embarrassment and you lightly nudge his shin with your foot in warning. 

“It’s not polite to snoop,” and although you say that, you catch something in your peripheral vision. It’s a few drawings of a figure and gadget drawn, shaded from rigid shapes with small descriptions pointing to different places. You weren’t sure what was more surprising; how good the drawings were, or the subject of his imagination. 

Weird. Inherently, there was nothing wrong with Riki drawing a villain, and you chalked it up to him being creative. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He puts his hands up in surrender at your last comment, his grin showing anything but. Just one look at the boy makes you realize that everything you’ve just thought about is foolish. 

There’s no way he’d have time to be a villain and a student. With one final thought, you let your raging thoughts rest and focus on the present; him. You’ve seen his hair messy, especially after his naps, but when Riki tries to style it like how he did today, you pay more attention to the streaks of blonde and how he often hides behind his bangs and scrunches his nose. It’s cute. He’s cute.

The truth is, you enjoy being around him like this, joking around and never worrying too much about your responsibilities and expectations. It’s refreshing. Being around Riki gives you the feeling that things will be okay in the end. 

You snap out of your thoughts to see that his desk is empty, while your’s hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re going to sell prom tickets now, right?” He makes small talk before leaving for lunch, closing the notebook you were suspiciously eying before slipping it into his bag. 

“Yup,” you answer, popping the ‘p,’ “I’ll see you later,” and you two part ways.

All the long lines and constant distribution of change doesn’t allow much wiggle room for you to daydream. As time goes on, the ticket-selling line grows smaller and smaller, but the only thing you truly care about is eating the lunch your parents packed you. Your sandwich is probably sad and soggy now that there are only a few minutes of lunch left. When you finally sign off one last time after triple checking the forms are all correct, you let out a sigh, leaning back and finally getting a break. 

Then, it hits you that you’re not even sure if the boy you’re fawning over is attending the biggest event of the year, and you feel stupid for forgetting to ask. 

-

Yesterday was a rookie’s mistake–today, you’d make sure you get an answer from him.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm. 

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah, whatever confidence he had when convincing himself he’d ask you out isn’t serving him well at this moment. Quite frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?” 

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes for the new book you’re reading. 

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it carefully, really because you don’t have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to be someone I know—someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from over-thinking if he keeps on wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐  talk to ____ regularly 

☐  don't make it awkward 

☐  be..cute? 

The boy decides that his superhuman responsibilities might be easier to complete than any of those three things. 

He switches the subject to stop his head from hurting too much. “Did you finish the report?” 

You still, and Riki’s question reminds you of the report looming over your head. In your defense, you two hadn’t brought it up much in the past week, and he didn’t seem to worry over how much of your time was spent emailing teachers or making spreadsheets. Although caught off guard, you’re quick to respond with, “What did we have to finish? I thought we were done since last week, but if there’s anything else-” 

“Sorry,” he rushes out, biting his lip, “I meant, if you finished reading it.” And the answer is no, you haven’t read it since your last edit on it three days ago. 

Within a few clicks, you find the document and scroll to the bottom, seeing the small note that Riki left that said ‘let me know how it looks.’ It’s sweet to know he thought about your input as much as you did his. 

“While some can agree that Gatsby’s rise into high society was sketchy, Gatsby still retains the same reserved character from years ago, and doesn’t manipulate others into success or use his money for nefarious purposes. It’s not like he changed after his wealth, and it could be argued Gatsby loved Daisy until his last breath and was willing to die as long as she was happy, emphasizing the theme of sacrifice. 

So, is Jay Gatsby a good person? The question targets the morality of a character who many can empathize with. Those who are charmed by his overwhelming love for Daisy would say that he’s committed textbook crimes, but focus more on the intent behind it. To pine after someone from a distance isn’t easy, but to pursue her after years of separation is even harder. It’s universally agreed, however, that love as a driving force doesn’t nullify what he’s done to others and the dirty schemes he’s enacted to gain the power he has. Therefore, Gatsby makes for an interesting main character, and highlights just how twisted a system around money can be.” 

The last page is–for the most part–his writing, and your admiration for him grows when you finish reading and scroll to hit your Works Cited page.

“It’s good,” you tell him wholeheartedly, “Didn’t think you had it in you.” 

Riki cracks a smile at your light teasing, soaking up your praise. 

“Now you know.” He shrugs. And he can only hope that you like him as much as you like his literary skills. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE COMES TO THE REALIZATION THAT HE IS EXACTLY LIKE JAY GATSBY,JUST WITHOUT THE MONEY—DESPERATE FOR THE GIRL OF HIS DREAMS, DYING YOUNG, AND A FRAUD HIDING BEHIND SECRETS.

Nevermind the last one, he has to hide when he has an identity to protect as the city’s only superhero, but Riki feels his heart sink to his heels when he read a few weeks ago how much Gatsby simply adores Daisy. When Gatsby died, he scoffed, closing the book with a sudden disinterest. If he were the male lead, he wouldn’t have been laying in a pool for target practice. Maybe being a superhero teaches you how to avoid being easy bait for all your enemies, or maybe Gatsby was too carried away with love to think straight. 

Fighting crime gives you insurmountable experience with sneaking around, but it wasn’t something he could just teach to anyone. When he gets this horrible gut feeling that something’s happened to you, he just knew something was wrong. He might not be easy to catch, but for anyone else? Definitely.  

For everyone else, prom was a month away, but for you, it was three weeks of talking to your advisor and president, arguing with your other board members, and sitting behind that damn money box for another five days to sell tickets. For you, it was realizing that you were supposed to buy streamers and balloons yesterday on your way home from school. It was the thinly veiled disappointment in your board member’s texts when they told you they were at a loss for words. ‘I’m sorry, and I know you’re busy, but how could you forget? Prom is so important for all of us. What if they don’t have what you need anymore?’ It all repeated in your head as you bit your lip in frustration and slipped on the first pair of shoes you could find. Although it was dark and dangerous, you could care less if it meant avoiding the passive aggressive comments you’d get tomorrow during your meeting.

There it is again: that little tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings. 

You yelp when you feel someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in, muffling your screams as he pulls you along. To see him on the news was worrying, but to see Spark in person with your life on the line is even worse. 

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle against the metal to no avail, and you curse every previous moment you spent worrying about balloons rather than your safety.

Spark suddenly stops, shoving you against the wall before his hand grabs a brick with his metal arm, beginning to climb. “Don’t let go.” And you don’t think twice before holding on.

The city view would be beautiful if you weren’t hearing your heartbeat in your ears or if you weren’t dangling from the railing of some company building, trying to wiggle yourself free of the rope around your wrists. 

Spark speaks up, drumming his fingers on the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is, would you?” And you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely questioning for a moment if he really knew how the superhero operated. 

A voice from across the street puts a temporary hold on your thoughts, and you glance up to see a flash of blue and red soaring through the air, followed by a groan and a beam of light next to you. Seeing Spark’s powers right in front of you spurs you into action, yanking at the rope and trying to take tiny steps away from where they were fighting.

“From what I’m seeing, you wanted to hold someone hostage because you’re not feeling too good, huh?” Spider-Man shouts as he shoots out webs and blocks hits. You shake your head in partial disbelief of how unserious he is, but also how unbelievable all of this seems. “You tried to take a potion or something? I’m going to tell you this now, but these usually don’t work.” 

Riki’s assumption is right, and considering how Spark now has a leg and arm from metal instead of just the arm, the procedure for the additional limb couldn’t have been easy. The superhero still proceeds with caution, making sure to pay attention to anything new as he dodges and fights back. 

The villain immediately gets back up, stumbling for a moment before he regains his stance and runs towards the boy. You hear the clanging of fist hitting metal from their fight, and considering the difference in height and build, you’d expect Spider-Man to be easily flung to the side, but he holds his weight in battle. 

Riki aims for around the left shoulder, where an abundance of stitches cover the skin and fuse the metal into muscle. He lands a hit, and almost another one, before a punch to the side knocks him from his momentum. The boy wheezes when his back makes instant contact with the ground, rolling and getting up before Spark has time to shoot. 

He notices how quickly the gadget generates electricity now. Before, the beams took longer, and were easily predictable, but now, it glows bright for a moment before it fires directly in Riki’s path. The boy dodges the first, but the second one almost hits the top of his head before he ducks and creates distance. 

From the roof-top, Riki scans his surroundings before making the split-second decision to jump. 

He swings to the other side of the building, keeping you in his peripheral vision as he works on apprehending the villain in front of him. They spring into yet another fist fight, with Riki’s agility easily letting him avoid punches and land precise hits to make the previous injuries even worse. 

You think Spider-Man has the upper hand in this, seeing as how none of Spark’s punches seem to slow down the superhero, but you hear something loud before you can register it. 

You figure out what happened after Riki stumbles and suffers a blow to the stomach, sending him tumbling to the edge of the building. Spark knew that Spider-Man was avoiding his left arm—he knew that one wrong move paired with the tungsten material would have a lasting effect on the superhero’s fist. 

Riki coughs from the impact before his spidey-sense rings, pulling him back into battle as he runs as fast as his body can take him. 

You. He still needs to save you. 

With renewed vigor, he continues to avoid the flying sparks as he ducks between structures and uses the terrain to his advantage. He can tell, though, that the villain is slowing down. The shots are less accurate–a telltale sign that the enhancer Spark tried is working against him. 

Between all of the chaos, Riki finally lands a proper web, yanking as hard as he can to pull Spark to the ground. He stumbles, grasping at thin silk before Riki lets go on his side. The villain’s balance is off, giving the boy an advantage as he closes the distance, hopping over a thrown slab of metal and landing a solid kick into Spark’s ribcage. As he stays down, Riki continues to aim for muscle and flesh, his head spinning as he packs punch after punch to keep the villain apprehended. 

Spark’s body–curled into itself to absorb the hits the best that he can– hides the growing blue flash that he’s slowly charging up with his remaining power. The moment it escapes from under his abdomen, Riki directs his efforts towards avoiding the electric glimmer. The villain rolls over, his body tattered from the consistent injuries, and he fires what seems like an intense bullet of energy. It zips by the boy’s cheek, cutting the mask and leaving blood to run down in its wake. Time slows down as the superhero tries to process the unlocked speed of the burst, and Spark loses focus marveling at his new abilities. Never before had either of them seen power so concentrated, and it inflicts both fear and excitement. 

He lifts his arm, the other holding it up for support, and Spider-Man notices the fizzle of bright blue. Riki’s about to jump out of the way, preparing for yet another high-speed bullet, but before Spark fires, something clicks. The arm doesn’t directly point to Riki–but it skews off to the right.

Except, he’s no longer aiming for Riki in the split second that the boy blinks. He’s suddenly aiming at you, where your hands are tied to the railing and your feet are dangling from the bent metal that holds you precariously over the edge, leaving a fifty foot drop in its wake. When you see the blue energy in the villain’s palm growing slowly bigger, you pull at the rope desperately with zero regard to the tender rawness of your wrists. 

In your attempt to somehow break the rope, your cry of fear snaps Spider-Man into action. 

Riki pushes his sore body to jump as quick as he can, leaping across the rooftop to the building over. He easily avoids the metal railing, grabbing onto your arm as he yanks hard on the rope, the force of it separating a piece of metal from the railing. He immediately jumps, sending out a web to swing him back up. It all happens in a flash–first, you were bound to the edge about to fall to your death, and all of a sudden, you’re tightly pressed against Spider-Man’s chest with your bound wrists still attached to the metal. Shutting your eyes, you trust Spider-Man entirely, closing your eyes to avoid seeing just how far up you were. Wind rushes in your ears and leaves your stomach fluttering with butterflies until the superhero sets you down on a secluded rooftop. 

“Please,” he begs, “don’t leave. I’ll be right back.” 

You’d be a fool to do anything but wait. 

Riki checks on you one last time before diving down, springing himself back up with another web. The damage from the blasts is recognizable even from far away, and yet, he notices the reflective shine of a metal arm on the edge of the building before Spark lets go. 

To Riki, Spark is dead after dropping from a fall having taken that much damage, but he hears no impact. Making haste, the boy fails to find any figure no matter how hard he looks, but Spark’s laboratory has to be here somewhere. The badge from a week ago was stuck on Riki’s mind, and he could only imagine the reasons why he pursued this life. Was he recreating something? If he needs to power some sort of machine, then the heart of the city is a perfect place to harness the electricity for any large scale project. As much as he wants to dedicate the rest of the night to searching the city for some sort of clue, the fact that you’re still stranded on that rooftop after having just experienced a life-changing event blares like an alarm in his mind. 

He quickly leaves, returning to where you’re seated.

Without the fear of falling to your death from earlier, you were able to focus on undoing the knots from the rope. Red scratch marks and irritation bloom on your wrist, and the reality of it all happening still hasn’t settled in. Despite not being harmed once, the fear and incessant pounding of your heart overwhelms your senses, and it leaves you heaving with confusion. 

A pair of footsteps only become apparent as Riki walks closer, taking a seat beside you and letting out a large sigh. He stares at the stars silently as if he doesn’t have a cut on his cheek and bruises waiting to paint his skin purple–as if he isn’t hiding his true self under a facade. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You shake your head, grateful that Spider-Man was the reason you got away without a real injury.

“Thank you, really, for saving me. I don’t know how you manage to do it.” 

Riki chuckles under the mask. “Eh, you get used to it,” you hear Spider-Man say. “You fight a couple bad guys, get over a fear of heights and eventually you get the hang of things.” 

Scoffing, you gently rub at your wrists to ease the redness. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t been taught a crash course on how to avoid being supervillain bait just yet.” 

“Maybe you should learn it sometime,” Riki responds absentmindedly, “someone like you shouldn’t have been out so late doing whatever it could’ve been.” 

Sighing, your mind drifts off to think about the balloons and streamers that are not in your hand. “I had stuff for my upcoming events.” 

He knew about all of it when you’d explain your cryptic reminders and notes on your computer, but he still feigns curiosity. “What upcoming events?” 

“Just prom,” and he hears just how strained it makes you. 

Riki tilts his head in faux confusion. “What do you have to do for prom?” 

He notices how you immediately slump, as if the mere mention of prom deflates your happiness. “It’s only a few weeks away, and I was supposed to get decorations for our venue yesterday. I just wanted to slip out before my parents noticed.” 

Despite the fabric over his eyes, Riki’s expression shifts from surprise to pity when he understands your stakes. “You still need to be careful. Is your student council strict?” 

“Not strict necessarily, but judgemental–I ran for the position because I thought I could help my school raise funds and find more opportunities, but it just feels like no one truly wants to try anything new.” You wave it off as if it’s not that important, as if it isn’t the reason why you find yourself stressed so often. “I just don’t want to disappoint or give people something to talk about.” 

Despite not being involved with school the same way you are, the boy next to you resonates with the fear you currently face. The fear of letting people down was a large part of why Riki continued to put on that mask and step into the most dangerous situation of his life; he never wanted to sit down to hear the news that Spider-Man quit. 

So he keeps doing his job, even if some days are harder and some fights aren’t worth winning–just like what you do. 

“Yeah, I get that,” he tries to console, “You must be doing a lot for everyone around you, and I’m sure a lot of people appreciate what you’ve done. Don’t beat yourself up too much, yeah? You’ll always have me.” He smiles, but he knows you don’t see it. You’re looking at the stars, trying to calm your mind and return to your life before everything happened. 

You glance over at Spider-Man, wondering if he’ll truly be around for you when you need it. “If I need to talk to you, should I step out of my house past 8PM again?” 

Riki chuckles, watching clouds slowly dim the moon’s glow in their path. “If I’m not fighting crime, I’ll show up at a moment’s notice.” 

There’s no way he means it, but you grin, feeling a lot of the pressure and stress of earlier slowly wash away. After all, nothing happened to you–Spider-Man made sure of it. Maybe things really were going to be okay. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah? Don’t you have stuff to do anyways?” 

You shrug, nothing really coming to mind. As you get up, you remember having to run a plagiarism check on your work, and how Riki told you to text him when you got home after your student government meeting. 

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man. 

“Wait,” you tell Spider-Man, sitting back down on the cement, “I need to talk to you about something else, too.” 

“It’s not like my dinner’s getting cold,” the superhero mumbles quiet enough that you can’t hear. 

“There’s this guy,” you start, paying no mind to how dirty your clothes are getting when you cross your legs. 

Spider-Man scoffs, looking off into the distance, and it makes you believe he has to be your age or older. “You have a crush on him, or something?” And a whole tidal wave of deja vu hits you in the chest. 

‘He must be badly hurt’ isn’t just something people say. People don’t just draw insanely detailed drawings of Spark’s arm and machines without notes to follow unless they knew. People wouldn't just randomly miss school without any impending signs. You’re sure of it–the tired naps in class, the random drawings of superheroes and superhumans alike, or how awkward he could act–it all makes sense.

Your classmate, aka Nishimura Riki, aka the guy who you’ve questioned if you had a crush on for the past few days, might be a villain. 

The swirling feeling of trepidation in your stomach leaves three words running around your head. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Although you tried so hard to stop thinking about it, Jake’s comment from before rubbed you the wrong way. It was sometime last week where you couldn't get your mind off of the implications of his words, but that feeling was brushed underneath your responsibilities. 

Until now. 

“Yeah, there’s this guy,” you breathe, feeling your chest constrict, “Nishimura Riki. I think he’s Spark.” 

His blood runs cold. 

“You think this…why?” 

You take a deep breath, trying to organize all your thoughts. “Well, first, it was his friend, Jake. He said that Riki was badly hurt, and I was really confused at first, but tried to let it go.” 

Riki was going to strangle his best friend. 

“And then, I was looking at him in class, right? And keep in mind, he’s pretty cute, and we sit next to each other, so I just noticed how good his hair looked that day, but his notebook was out, and I saw all these drawings of Spark. Like, the arms, the metal things, even the projectiles! Who would know the ins and outs of that thing if it wasn’t Spark himself?”

He didn’t know what to think about first; the fact that you gushed about him for the first time, or if he should even tell you that Spider-Man would know those things, too. 

“And sometimes, I notice he’s a little awkward around me. I can’t explain it. It’s like he’s paying attention to me. That must’ve been why he captured me.” He wants to laugh at how damn close you are to figuring it out, but in reality, nothing is funny about the situation. 

Nishimura Riki is actually listening to this, right now, as Spider-Man–not Spark. The awkwardness, though? It was his crush on you, and was not superhuman related in the slightest.  

“I don’t know,” he attempts to divert, pretending to focus, “I saw a badge for FLiGHT. You know the company that’s been making time traveling machines? I saw a glimpse of his name and face. It’s not that guy you mentioned.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “And you haven’t gotten him caught?” 

“Villains aren’t easy to find, y’know. It’s not like playground hide and seek,” Riki defends, crossing his arms. 

You shrink in your spot, feeling sheepish for questioning a superhero so bluntly. 

“Plus,” he continues, “Spark has never had a hostage. Wouldn’t it be pretty mean of that friend of yours to kidnap a girl from his class?” 

“Yeah—that makes sense. Thank god,” you breathe, closing your eyes momentarily. “Then what do you suspect all that evidence leads to? Maybe he’s a secret agent?” 

“I think,” Riki continues to keep up his clueless facade, “Your friend might just be clumsy. Or creative. I mean, maybe he went through a break-up?” Nice one, Riki. 

You shake your head. “No, there’s no way he has a girlfriend. You’d think I like guys who are taken?” Scoffing lightly, you then remembered that Spider-Man really would have no idea who any of you are. 

He shrugs and stands up stretching before motioning for you to follow him. “I have no idea what you high school kids do. Come on, let’s get you home.” 

As you hug him tight, the cold air whips around your body and leaves goosebumps in their wake. You barely open your eyes from the fear of seeing yourself inches from hitting a building or up in the air. Spider-Man only yells his confirmation after asking how to get you home, finally placing you on the ground outside of your large gate. 

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

“Anytime. Figure things out with that friend of yours, and don’t go out late, okay?” You nod and take his words to heart. 

“Goodnight, Spiderman.” 

—-

Nishimura might die. One, because he has this horrible guilty feeling in his stomach, and two, because of a villain. 

Yesterday, he ignored the salmon and rice bowl that waited for him back at home, choosing to follow the coordinates he saved on his phone after he took you home. It led him to a seemingly harmless auto-shop, with an arrow on his GPS pointing to a garage that was shut down completely with nails and blocked with boxes. The exterior pointed to it being abandoned, but Riki suddenly saw some light coming from a makeshift above.

The boy scaled the wall as quietly as possible, glancing into the source of the whirring. He caught small glimpses of something–metal, glowing, blue. 

Or at least, for a few seconds it was on until the power went out. 

The voice that complained from inside the room sounded identical to the man Riki fought. Spark grumbled, turning on a flashlight and quickly waving it around. Riki ducked from the window and held his breath, waiting for the man to suspect something. 

Nothing. 

One lightbulb slowly flickered back on, and then the other dingy light followed. The space was cramped with the metal equipment in the middle, resembling what Riki had seen in the news. 

He was right–it was the same time travel portal that was ruined from a few months ago. 

Spider-Man continued to observe the man as he worked and drilled, plugging certain wires or pausing momentarily to read from a journal. To anyone, it’d seem peaceful, like some sort of renovation project. But in reality, it was so much more than that. 

Riki searched for any sort of information about the machine, trying to see what exactly was left to do until his gaze landed on something. 

There was some sort of date on a bright pink sticky-note, and Riki’s eyes widened when he finally comprehends it. 

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow. 

-

A street lamp next to Riki dies out—which was a clear sign that something was powering up. From the dark, he hears the metal from the same place as last night moving again, and he knows that Spark has left. His presence sends anyone down the street and immediately running, leaving the area for only them two. 

Riki finally sees the completed metal build. Half of his body is wrapped in or replaced with metal parts as he sets down the metal portal, beginning to push it in the direction of the power plant. 

A truck or car would make things much easier, but whatever.

Riki wants to cry from fear and run away. He wants to leave and pretend he never saw anything from last night. 

He’s going to die fighting Spark and he will quite literally a) never finish highschool and get that stupid diploma, b) finish explaining how Gatsby is not a good person and is naturally selfish, and c) he’s never going to tell you how he’s had a small crush on you ever since he saw your cute campaign video as to why you should vote y/n l/n for student body treasurer last spring. 

“You sure that thing works?” Riki asks, jumping into action as he sends webs to immobilize the machine. 

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Spark sends a projectile in the superhero’s direction, hitting the wall behind him instead as Riki jumps out of the way.

With another duck mid-air and the roof of a flying car dangerously close to his nose, Riki thanks the dance practice he does for his flexibility as he shoots another web and swings away. 

Spark is uncontrollable by now, sucking the light from street lamps and fizzing wires in his wake. He has no idea how he’s supposed to get in contact with the villain like before. The body of his suit fizzes with bright electricity that sizzles and pops. It illuminates Spark’s figure, making him easy to spot, but not so easy to defeat. It’s an overload of power, causing the voltage to escape between the joints and gaps of the metal pieces in his suit. And Riki can feel it; the air is heightened and so are the stakes of this fight—and with how the man that stands in front of him looks upgraded and menacing, he knows only one person can make it out of this fight alive. 

“You injected the city’s ‘Gas and Electric’ into your system or what?” Riki calls out, making light of the situation. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared out of his wits seeing the six foot figure with blue and white shooting from every crack, looking like a nightmare to touch.

Riki avoids a few more angrily thrown objects, using the momentum of his jump from the side of the building to zip from the top of a yellow fire hydrant to go from one side of the street to the other. “You’re slow!” He taunts, tucking in his legs to avoid a shot of electricity directed at him. 

The screech of metal from the nearby hydrant can be heard as the top flings off, making Riki lose his anchor/ Before he can process it, instead of smoothly landing on the building, he crashes into it faster than expected, groaning when his back makes contact with the glass and he tumbles into the living room of someone’s apartment. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fighting his aching limbs to get up once more. 

And the solution hits him. Literally. 

When he steps out and quickly attaches a web to the top of the building, he’s met on the way up with a splash of water from the hydrant to his face, and Riki splutters as he wipes his mask, regaining focus as he lands on the concrete and hides behind the ledge. 

Water. If he can get it in contact with Spark and pour enough water on the right spot, the excess of electricity blazing from his mechanical body should work against him. 

“Too scared? You should know better than to run away.” The superhero rolls his eyes, crawling away silently to avoid being seen by Spark. Riki does his best to look around for something, and finds a black flower pot in the corner, using a web to grab it before he scales the side of the building and runs away while Spark is distracted as the villain also climbs the wall to face him there. But when Spark climbs the ledge and scans the premise, Riki is nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, Riki swings across the street and fills the pot with water, heaving the extra weight as he shouts out from the sudden pain in his side. He stumbles on the pavement, crying out from the injury as the pot falls with his whole plan. 

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies. 

He sucks in a deep breath before rolling from his back onto his knees, ignoring the wound to pick up the flower pot. The hydrant still shoots out water, and the superhero rushes towards it, causing Spark to follow. He narrowly avoids another shot from behind him, reaching the yellow hydrant before dropping the pot on the ground. Spark is th 

While Spark has always been intelligent, Riki could tell that the man didn’t fear the water, believing he’d be invincible to the elements now that his suit was perfected. There was something off, Riki could tell, and he would make sure to use it to his advantage. Spark was uncontrolled, and his powers drastically decreased the more he used them. There’s no way his body isn’t in overdrive with how recklessly he’s been letting himself get hurt. 

Riki uses a web to get himself on higher ground instead of fighting, waiting for the supervillain to follow. If he could get Spark off the edge and fall into the growing puddle of water, it should slow him down. 

Spark scoffs. “Run away, then. Like you always have.” Riki hears the wall crumbling under the villain as he climbs within seconds, immediately preparing to fight when he makes it onto the rooftop. But Spider-Man was also prepared, jumping from his crouched hiding position and attempting to catch Spark off guard. 

All he can focus on now is pushing him off. There’s no way it’d be easy, considering he had to focus on his touching any of the electricity off of his suit. Riki delivers a kick to Spark in the ribcage near his heart, where he’s fused metal into flesh. The villain coughs before taking a step back, his metal arm reaching for Riki’s outstretched leg. He grabs it, twisting with anger before the boy meets the ground in a violent throw. Not only is the slam greater because of the enhanced strength, but the power seeps into Riki’s skin, leaving it hot from the energy radiating off of his palm.��

The boy groans, flipping to his side to avoid a fatal hit to the chest. He reaches for Spark’s normal arm, swinging the villain’s body away with as force as he could to create distance between them. 

Riki has been in enough fights to simply know when to run, even if he doesn’t know what’s coming. He could feel the tingle of the charge as it powered up, and with its energy so unrestrained and its user so unstable, the large attempt to hit Riki sends the villain stumbling back from the force. The more Spark uses his powers, the more likely he’s going to end up dead. 

“Your skin can handle that anymore!” he shouts, getting ready to swing himself closer as a plan manifests itself in his head. “You’ll die like this!” 

Spark seems to know that too as he wipes his mouth and recovers from Riki’s attacks. 

“You think I care?” He shouts, desperately pressing his wounds to stop the bleeding. “You think I have anything else for myself?” The vulnerability of his character shines through as he clutches his bleeding wound without regenerative powers to help. “You think I didn’t know that when I did it to myself--what they did to me?” 

Riki doesn’t respond, grimacing as he continues hand-to-hand combat. Although he takes a solid punch to his jaw that’s forming a deep purple bruise, he manages to trip Spark onto the ground.

The man stumbles back from the head injury, the pounding from earlier not letting him to think straight. Riki doesn’t try to injure him anymore, but he instead blocks an incoming punch and tries to force Spark towards the edge. 

The villain barely notices how much space there is left, and the boy lunges with full force. They tackle each other into the ground, and Riki gets off after apprehending him once more. 

The city's a mess, and Spider-Man’s eyes want to shut down so badly, but he takes a few steps in Spark’s direction, pushing him off the side of the building as quickly as he can. Riki hears the thud before he peeks over the edge, seeing the water erode all of the engineering from the machinery. He slowly descends from the rooftop. 

“You were in the accident, huh?” Riki shouts on top of the plethora of sounds. Pain, buzzing electricity, splashes of water as he lands next to Spark; it all echoes in his ears as he pours the water from the pot on Spark’s body. “Why did you try it? Why did you want to go back so bad?”

“If I could go back,” Spark coughs, trying to get away from the large pool of water, “I could’ve prevented the accident from taking the lives of the people around me. I could’ve saved them.” 

Spider-Man understands loss, and he understands the regret that comes with failure. He understands how the man in front of him feels after having everything taken away from him, but his emotions could never justify his actions. 

“You know you can’t change things,” Riki responds, “You tried your best, Spark.” It’s the last thing Riki tells the villain before his body slumps and police sirens grow louder and louder. It’s the last thing that he continues to think about, even if the medic quickly assesses the severity of his wounds. 

“I’m fine- really,” he pushes away the hands of a concerned woman as she holds a roll of bandages. “There’s something else I need to do.” 

Riki knew he had to tell you about this–he couldn’t just let you confide in him about..well, him, without your knowledge. And Riki wasn’t morally perfect, but he knew an explanation would be the only way to fix things.

Your house looks different when jumping over the fence instead of standing in front of it. When he realizes he has no idea what room belongs to you, he racks his brain, suddenly remembering how yours was the only one with a gray balcony over the pool. And so he climbs, slipping from the exhaustion creeping into his body. 

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right? 

“____, a little help?” And what the fuck is Nishmura Riki doing outside of your door? You go to investigate the muffled sound, inching towards the curtains and pulling them back to expect him there. When you hear a half yelp and a hissing sound that follows right after, without a person anywhere in sight, your heart drops to its stomach. 

Do not say it’s true. 

“Riki, where the fuck are you?” you ask, traversing out when you don’t see him anywhere across the glass. 

“Down here.” You run in the direction of the voice, and your eyes grow comically large and you gasp, staring down at the sight before you. 

“Holy shit.” 

There Nishimura Riki is, with his mask half burned off his face and his blonde and black hair messy and matted to his forehead with sweat. The suit is ripped in multiple locations with gashes and purple replacing the healthy skin underneath. His face is in more of a grimace, as he holds onto the web with both hands and one foot planted on the stone of your balcony—read; the bottom of your balcony. 

“A little help?” And you see his sheepish emotion through the tattered fabric, embarrassed after you had to find him in such a compromising situation. “I’m a little worn out and I think my webs are getting weaker.”

You’re a little frustrated with him for being out so publicly, but more scared and worried for his condition. Your gaze narrows on the mask, tattered and covered with scratches, but clearly visible. It was Spider-Man’s mask. The material gives way to a familiar face, and your mind almost blocks you from putting the pieces together. It’s impossible, almost horrifying to think of the implications of what it means to wear the blue and red suit. 

Instead of being the villain, Riki is, in fact, the savior.

The harsh truth is that your classmate, who you spent the last month working on a project with and suspected was a villain, is the same superhero that went out and risked his life every night fighting crime. It’s jarring to see him like this, breathing heavy and straining against the stone of the balcony, and his cough snaps you out of it. “What the fuck do I do?” 

Riki tries to put his hand up in surrender and shuts his eyes at your harsh tone. “Okay, okay, I get-“ and he cuts himself off with a yelp as his footing slips. 

He holds out his hand, and you immediately bend over the smooth railing to grab it, leaning back on the heels of your feet to help him up the most that you can. You’re filled with confusion when the boy hobbles over the cool surface of the balcony and lets his head rest on the stone, not saying much as he catches his breath. You watch the rise and fall of his chest and how his right arm goes to nurse the left side of his ribcage, wincing and sucking in a pained breath as he assesses the smear of red on his fingers. 

Sitting there with your mouth agape, you’re not really sure what to think about first; to check if RIki’s alright, to think about how your city’s greatest superhero is your English project partner, to yell at him for going to your house instead of his house to fix himself up, or to think about how good his side profile looks in the moonlight. Maybe you should’ve just been relieved that the boy you started to like wasn’t a fear-inducing villain.

“Okay, first of all, we need to have a huge talk. But I’m not a medic Riki- I’m going into accounting for fuck’s sake.” He hears the amount of curses flying from your lips as you ramble, and sees how stressed you look watching him sit against your railing. 

“I don’t know how to help you. And also,” you lower your voice and scoot closer, looking around at the large property to really make sure no one’s listening. “you’re Spider-Man?” 

The information all hitting you at once is worse than when your history teacher told you your essay was horrible. At least then, in her office, you could process everything. But here? You’re about to faint. 

“I’m pretty cool, huh?” And of course Nishimura Riki says such a thing, taking deep breaths as he shallowly presses on the blossoming bruises on his skin and wipes the sweat from his brow. 

“Pretty fucking stupid is what it is, Riki.” You cross your arms and try to take a look at where he’s been hurt, hoping that at least he has some sort of regeneration ability that helps him heal much quicker—because there’s no way he could deal with all of this on top of school. 

“I have my reasons,” he says, his voice quiet. 

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “For coming here.”

“What could possibly make you want to come over to my house instead of the nearest hospital? What’s that important to you?”

“I really want to ask you to prom.” 

You simply stare at him, surprised. 

“You came to my house, even though you’re like, a punch away from passing out, to ask me out? And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, asked me anytime during the classes we have together?”

Riki somehow finds it in himself to frown and shrink from your angry piercing gaze. “I can’t because talking to you makes me nervous–so yeah, I’m sorry I’m half conscious on your balcony in my suit instead of at your door with a poster.” 

You’re conflicted, your mind still reeling from the recent discovery and your flood of emotions. Ever since you questioned his identity on top of your feelings for him, you had a hard time really knowing if you could like Riki if he turned out to be a villain, so to know that he proved both of your theories wrong leaves you quiet as you think. If possible, the color in the boy’s face drains even more when you go back inside, but the door stays open, and he thinks he hasn’t ruined things after all. You emerge with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a bowl of warm water, and a pristine white towel. 

“I’m not mad about that, you idiot,” you reprimand him, setting everything down as you examine the cuts on his face. You squeeze the towel and start to dab at his skin, avoiding the cuts as you clean it. “Who does this for you if not me?” 

“Jake.” 

“Seems like a pretty good friend.” Riki nods in response. 

 “I’m sorry,” he sighs, sitting up to properly address you, even if you weren’t able to meet his gaze. 

“For what?”

“For putting this on you–all of it. Not just the whole Spider-Man thing.” He knew he’d have to tell you at some point, or else it’d eat him up inside to know he kept all of it from you. 

“Look at you, saving me mid-air and talking to me as if you didn’t know who I was.”

You notice a flash of regret through his wince as you clean up a cut with antiseptic. “I meant it when I told you I knew what it was like to have a lot of pressure.”

“Guess I wasn’t so far off, then. If we never talked, would you have told me?” Riki shakes his head, and the simple motion leaves you somehow disappointed. 

“How do you ever tell anyone you’re…y’know, Spider-Man?” Even if it’s a hypothetical, you shrug, not being able to answer.

“How’d Jake find out?” 

Riki chuckles and hisses at the same time before trying to remember. “I think I just kicked his window in after a nasty poison got hold of me. He was a little too excited to have Spider-Man on his bedroom floor, and less excited to know it was me. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, though.”

“Then why’d you tell me? You could’ve just gone back to your friends.” 

“I felt guilty–I know, I know, it sounds stupid. I’d definitely get my identity revealed at this rate.” You shake your head. 

“Not stupid. Keep going.” 

“I didn’t care that you suspected me, or if anyone else did, because I knew it was never true. But I felt so bad knowing you were sharing to me how you felt without even knowing it was me who was listening–like I was holding something from you.” 

You admire his honesty, and when you look at his furrowed brows and his lip that he’s been gnawing from worry, you can’t even imagine what he’s had to hide and do for this. In a way, you look up to him more, for trying his best even if he’s gotten all odds stacked against him. Riki’s commendable in your eyes–he always had been, ever since you woke him up in class. 

“I like those things about you, Riki. That you’re honest with yourself and the people around you as much as you can be, and you try to help others when you can. I’m glad we got to know each other more this past month.” Talking to him feels different than talking to Spider-Man from a few days ago; it feels raw, like you’re not just confessing something to a brick wall anymore. If none of this ever happened, you doubt you’d get the chance to tell Riki any of this properly. 

The boy stays silent, taking deep breaths while processing what you’ve told him. “I’m glad I could help you out.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. “I hope you know I don’t like you because you help me out. I like you because you’re attractive, and because you’re genuine,” you blurt. 

Riki laughs despite his ribcage hurting everytime he does so. Riki nods and mumbles a ‘thank you,’ also glad to truly get to know you. While his crush was more of an infatuation with your hard work and amiability, the past few weeks really opened his eyes to who you were. You never wanted to disappoint, and even if your recklessness left you in some dire situations, Riki could see how much effort you really put into things. 

There wasn’t anything else he needed to tell you–you were smart enough to see how much he cared about you.    

You’re so close, your lips glossy with lip balm as you watch him carefully. You hear and see it all; the heavy, labored breathing from his body healing itself rapidly, and the way his hand is full of rough cuts and calluses as his fingers intertwine with yours. But your eyes catch a glimpse of his mask tossed to the side, the blue shining in the corner of your eyes as you’re reminded of who he is right now, and what role you play. You are still ____ ____, but he’s a superhero.

It makes you momentarily forget whose suit you're peeling away, whose skin you're cleaning. It reminds you that he’s just the boy in your English class that you fell for. “What does that make us?”

“Prom-goers,” he answers with a slight nod. 

You smile, wiping a cut before placing the towel back into the bowl for the last time and getting up. “We can be prom-goers, yeah.” 

You’re not sure if you’re ready for anything, and you’re thankful that he understands that, too. As much as it warmed your heart to see him again and hear his confessions, the blaring truth still hangs over your head. You grab his mask, finally looking at him before handing it back and grabbing your things. His secret identity wasn’t something you could just ignore. 

“Go home, Spider-Man,” you turn your back on him, and time slows when you falter before sparing him one more look. “I want you as Riki, not like this.” 

MAYBE NISHIMURA RIKI DOESN'T NEED TO DIE–OR ALMOST DIE–ANYMORE. 

He went home that night with his scars somewhat cleaned and his bruises miraculous healing on their own, and even if slipping through the window left him clutching his side in pain, Riki silently jumped up to celebrate his multiple victories before slipping out of his suit and finally getting some rest. 

Riki’s scared of how he’s affected your relationship. He’s worried you’ll avoid him in the halls, and he’s worried you’d never want to see him again after putting you through all of it. As much as he'd understand how upset you'd be towards him, he hopes he did the right thing by telling you.

But you see him on your way to English, and you call his name. His eyes search for yours in the crowds, and you two see each other before you crush him in a hug. 

Riki isn’t sure how to feel at first, but eventually wraps his arms around you as relief settles in his stomach. 

“Thank you for saving me, Spider-Man,” you whisper, loud enough for only him to hear. 

He smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you go to English together. “Anytime, ____.” 

NEVERMIND, NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE SEES YOU IN YOUR RED PROM DRESS.

But first, he has to try something out. 

He curses to himself when silently zipping from a tree outside your family property to the top of your house, staring past the ledge two and luxurious stories to your well decorated porch light and door. He just prays that Google Maps is  right about how secluded the area is, so no one can see him pacing around your rooftop, with flowers elegantly wrapped in his hand (courtesy of your mother’s sleek envelope from a few days ago). 

“Fuck it,” he says to himself, shooting a web and dangling himself down. Riki’s upside down figure watches swirled window frames and meticulously designed accents as he descends, and he wonders what kind of shady business your parents could’ve done to afford something so grand. 

He faces your door—hanging down instead of rightside up, but he’s still here on time like he promised. 

The door opens at 6:00PM like he instructed you to, but what he didn’t tell you what to do was shriek and slam the door. On his nose. With a loud yelp, Riki clutches his nose, rubbing the spot you hit and trying to apply pressure to alleviate the pain. 

When the door slowly creaks open again, you face with the image of Nishimura Riki, aka your boyfriend, aka your English partner, aka Spider-Man, curled upside down in the fetal position as he cradles the sore spot on his face and swings slightly from the breeze. 

“You scared me, dumbass! How was I supposed to know it was you? It was so hard to see!” 

Although muffled, Riki’s able to mumble, “You have a porch light for this reason, _____,” and a jab at his stomach from you follows his sarcastic remark. Finally, his nose feels better, and he straightens out to finally look at you. 

Pretty, pretty, pretty, and the boy wonders how you look even more stunning with a glittering red dress and perfectly done make-up. “I like the red,” he says, trying not to freak out over your beauty. “Reminds me of a certain neighborhood superhero.” 

“I have some blue spider earrings to match.” With a beautiful smile, you turn to show him the little accent, and it melts his heart. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine. I should’ve probably put more thought into that.” 

You snicker, sliding into your heels and closing the door behind you. 

“One of us is better at romantic gestures, it seems.” It warrants a scoff, and Riki brings a gloved hand to poke at your forehead teasingly.

“Let me have a do-over, then?” And the way your lips curl up into a bright smile leaves him quiet and in awe. 

“What, were you going to kiss me? Very original, Spider-Man.” With the way the fabric shifts over his features, you can tell he’s pouting. 

“I thought girls liked this.” 

You shrug, pretending you aren’t swept off his feet by the effort he’s put in. Taking a step in his direction, your hands reach up to gently pull the mask over his chin, ears, and then his nose. 

Whispering quietly, you ask, “You’ve kissed other girls upside down?” 

Riki’s quick to shake his head. “You’re the only girl I’d withstand a head rush for.” And god, you just can’t stop yourself from grinning at his sweet, genuine words.

You lean in, placing a small kiss on his nose as a silent apology. Then, you close your eyes and lean into him once more, feeling his hands carefully holding the side of your head and his lips on yours. Your kiss with Riki is saccharine and slow, making you pull away when the urge to beam at him is too much. Your cheeks definitely hurt by how romantic he’s being, and you can’t resist kissing him once more.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he starts, finally letting himself down, “It feels weird.” 

“You ruined the moment.” And he really didn’t, but you enjoy his subtle reactions to your light digs at him. 

“Whatever.” Riki laughs. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” 

You nod, sitting down on the porch and dragging a manicured nail over your lips with the ghost of his affections, thinking about how you literally just kissed Spider-Man. 

Riki comes back, dusting off his suit and smoothing out the wrinkles, with a large bouquet of red roses and one blue one snuck in there. Your lips stretch into a grin and you accept the bouquet, keeping a mental note to read the card in there.

“You never cease to amaze me, Riki.” It’s the last thing you mutter to the air before you loop your arms around his neck, urging him to lean down as you kiss him once more—this time rightside up, but still as sickly saccharine as the one before it. Your heart is fuzzy with fondness and your eyes glitter with adoration. 

“So, which kiss was better?” he asks when you pull away, a little breathless and dizzy.

You swat his arm and walk past the gates, seeing the sleek limo waiting by the curb. “I don’t know, Spider-Man. Maybe show up in your suit and we’ll try it again.” 

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

RIKI FIC DONE!!!! ngl y/n u were right there how did u not know riki was spiderman but whatever idc she's a hard worker not smart LMFOAOAO. my first ever action fic so i hope you enjoy! also i hate the ‘oh he pined after her for 4 years she liked him for 2 months’ bs because I WAS IN IT. and it sucks so i tried to deviate from it :)

꣑ৎ permanent fic taglist (TAGGED IN TEASERS, FICS, HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES, ETC.): @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll @llvrhee @firstclassjaylee @in-somnias-world @rairaiblog @suneng @mavlogist @sensitively-taken @sumzysworld @simpjay @moons-v @riksaes @txtari @jungwonscatcus @tya0 @sasfransisco @woorcve @shypen @pinkriki @rikisluv @saranghaohoshi @lilifiedeans @wonmyheart @k1ttyluvr @nikisgfff @ramenoil @laurradoesloveu @lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me @ikeulims @missychiefs1404 @qwonyoung23 @yangjungwonnie @onementally-unstabel-kid @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @blooqz @anormieee hi permies hope u enjoy! kith

[cherry-pop-elf]

New Chapter

Anya x Reader

Can be read as platonic because we all want the best for her

SUM: Anya gets an abortion so you and the rest of the crew wait for her. You were the first one, however, to see her after surgery. Also because fuck you, abortion rights

Warnings: Abortion, sexual assault, jimmy, medical situations, abortion rights, domestic happy family

“How long is it gonna take?” Daisuke asked, as he was worried but also excited. Excited for Anya to feel better. Worried for well….Not like he’s had the best reactions to medical situations. Example A being Curly in the wheelchair next to him.

Curly was doing so much better now that he was actually on the planet again. The doctors were still jaw dropped that Anya was able to keep him alive with so little. Was not only a testimony to how she refused for him to die, but him refusing to leave his crew behind as well. It’s still a long journey ahead, but he was in clean bandages and clothes at least. Was even able to talk again. Sorta. Rather raspy but he will get there.

Jeez where to start on how you all got here to begin with.

“She’s going to be fine. Abortion is way less invasive than you think. It really depends on how far along, but luckily she isn’t too far for it to be to extreme. Not sure what type she went for, but whatever she chose she chooses. Just grateful we were able to return home before she reached to far along.” You would admit, as you would check up on Curly’s IV bag for him. Taking over Anya’s roll until she could return.

“Ya know….My wife had an abortion.” Swansea said, and it made all of you look over to him in pure surprise.

“What’s the funny look for? Ya think I’m a freak that would refuse my wife that? She needed it! The kid just….It ain’t my place, but the kid just wasn’t gonna survive. Either she carried it to term and die with em, or she just skips the heart ache. Not like it was her fault. We got two healthy girls at the end of the day. We got em because she got rid of that fucked up one.” He explained, as Daisuke seemed wide eyed in respect.

Explains why he snapped more clearly.

Anya had explained to Swansea what had happened, and before you pre Daisuke knew it Jimmy’s head was sliced off and rolling across the kitchen floor. Poor Suke threw up all over you from the sight, and shock. Then threw up again when he learned why he did such a thing. Lots of puking and crying. Fitting.

“Glad that damn company is dead. Whose wise idea was it to have a single woman surrounded by men. No offense you two-“ Curly would wheeze, before you would help him take his medication. Sure is easier to take pills when you actually give him water and take it slow. No choking or crying.

“Thats a can of worms I don’t want us to talk about.” Swansea would scoff. As a father to two girls he had a lot of things to say. Daisuke would be willing to listen, sure, but honestly you all had enough emotional fatigue to last multiple life times.

Thank god Curly was so high up on the food chain at the company. They knew they would get into more hot water if their, once, top captain suddenly vanished. Wouldn’t make their bankruptcy any smoother. For once they did the right thing and sent Simeon to save them.

Funny. A capitalist corporate organization took responsibility for their actions. For the right reasons? No. But they still took it. Strange. Isn’t it?

“Is she done yet?” Daisuke would whine, as you laughed at his childish nature. As if waiting on a sister to get out of the dentists office. You found it rather endearing honestly. That despite it all he was still having a heart full of love and excitement.

“Go play on your toy.” Swansea would grumble, as Suke whined. Regardless he would pull out his game boy. A nice excuse to play video games with out any guilt on wasting his time. Enjoying life shouldn’t be a burden.

“Need anything, Curly?” You would ask him, since you planned on going to the bathroom. Yeah Swansea and Daisuke could handle him, but you still wanted to be polite. Maybe you could grab him something from the vending machines. Maybe a soda. Some sugar in his system would do him good. Anya said that sugary bubble water of some kind, like sprite, can help quite a lot with indigestion.

“I should be fine. Thank you for asking though. Sorry you have to…” He would admit, as he looked himself over. His missing limbs now properly covered up with fabric to keep them clean, and allow him some kind of independence. The fabric on the stumps were padded. With enough practice and effort he would certainly be able to roll himself around.

Then again this was a world of space travel. He was going to get cyborged eventually, but you need to be healed first before such an intense operation. Can’t rush something like this.

“Hey. I do it because I can. Not because I have to. You are our captain. Let me be a good solider.” You teased him, and even in his broken face you could see a smile.

Swansea have you a head nod to indicate he would ‘take care of the boys’ and you were off to use the restroom.

Once done with that you would grab a soda from the vending machine for Curly, a bag of candy for Daisuke, and some pretzels for Swansea. As you were making your way back a nurse would motion you over.

“Miss Anya was asking for you. She has finished her operation, and wanted you to see her.”

You were surprised at that. You expected Curly to be her first guest. Did something go wrong? Oh you couldn’t help but freak out.

You followed after the nurse quickly, and all you were shown was Anya resting in her hospital bed. Tired, but relieved. Mostly. You saw that familiar stress in her eyes. That same stress she had when asking you if she made the right choice in asking Jimmy for help with medicating Curly.

That worry of if I did the right thing.

The nurse would leave you to alone, and you would quickly set the snacks aside. Now you were sitting next to her, in a chair, and holding her hand. Ready to be the shoulder she needed.

“Hey there Doc. How you doing?” You asked her, as you carefully stroked the back of her hand. Made sure to be mindful of all the tubes and wires.

“Well….It went far smoother than I expected. It was just so quick. They didn’t even need to put me under. The IV is more so for the issues I already had because of being stranded on the ship for so long. It was just so quick. So painless. Was just like pulling a thorn out of an arm. It was….Simple.” She would try and explain to you. Needing to make sure to stop herself before using doctor jargon.

“Too easy?” You puzzled.

“Yes. It was just….I expected pain. Pain and anxiety and horror. Suppose even a nurse can come to learn a thing or two…..”

She was hiding something, and you had an educated guess on what.

“You expected Jimmy to break down the door. Weren’t you?”

There was silence, but it told you everything.

“Scoot over. Move it sister-“ You were now crawling into the medical bed with her, moving the wires around, and soon snuggled into her side. Hugging her close, and especially with your arm over her stomach.

“You did the right thing. It’s your body at the end of it all. You took responsibility of taking care of yourself. You wouldn’t have been able to live a proper life. You went to med school. You don’t need me to tell you the horrors of pregnancy and birth. That alone is terrifying. But also you simply not wanting to be pregnant is enough. Ain’t no Jimmy’s gonna storm in and say otherwise.” You huffed, as she smiled. Her head leaning into yours.

“Yeah….No more Jimmy’s. Pretty sure Swansea will make sure of that.” She did her best to joke, and you were proud of her for it. This whole ordeal was hell. Hell none of you will ever truly walk away from. But that’s ok. You all had each other to lean on.

“I think I’m ready for everyone now.” Anya would whisper, as you gave her hand a squeeze. You were so proud of her. This was all such a nightmare, but she’s taking it in stride.

“Hell yeah.” You agreed, before climbing out of the bed. You made sure to grab the snacks, and exited the hospital room.

“Come on guys-! Anya is waiting on you-!” You shameless shouted outside of the room. She couldn’t help her face palm. Daisuke sure was an influence on you.

“I wanna push Curly!”

“Like hell you are-!”

They would bicker away, before Curly said ‘fuck it’ and did his best to roll himself over. He sure was a stubborn one. Made it half way before you figured that was enough work out for one person.

“Pretty far! Getting better at it-!” You encouraged, as the two men realized how far Curly rolled off on before finally following you two into Anya’s room.

“HAPPY NO BIRTH-DAY!” Daisuke would cheer, as Anya shook her head at such a joke.

“God dammit kid-“ Swansea side, before he came over to Anya. Giving her head a kiss. Just comforting her much like a father would.

“How many of us need to be in medical beds?” Curly would give a raspy snort, as Anya reached her hand out. He would lean his head over, and she would give it a stroke. As if all his hair never burned off. A means of holding his hand, in a way, compared to just grasping a limb.

She didn’t need children.

She had all of you.

What else could a woman want?

Since you were willing to read through this story to the end, and get a nice in depth look on the importance of such why not donate to some organizations? : D

Planned Parenthood

Nation Network For Abortion Funds

National Abortion Federation

The Bridge Alliance

The Satanic Temple

ActBlue

No worry on donating. Spreading awareness and signing petitions still help! The more people learn and understand the better! Could also like reblog with other organizations or petitions!

Abortion is healthcare!

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 5

Word Count- 3.3k

Warnings- Swearing, violence, slight SA, Elijah being a simp.

A/N- This chapter wasn’t much but I wanted to get something out to you guys. NEXT CHAPTER though, there will be a lot of Elijah and reader. I am very excited to write that. And most likely the chapter after that will be the intro of our favorite Hybrid, which I know many of you have been itching for. 

ALSO, I want to thank you all for your support. It means so much to me that so many of you love this series as much as I do.

“Wait, so Rose is dead, werewolves are roaming the streets of Mystic Falls, and some bitch kidnapped you? All in a span of a week. ”

I look up to Caroline who is sitting behind me braiding my hair. She solemnly nods and frowns. 

“Ya, thankfully though Elijah’s witches came in clutch and helped save the day,” Caroline says as she moves my head forward to go back to braiding my hair. 

“Elijah helped,” I question Elena, who sits before me with Bonnie as they paint each other’s nails. Elena had called me an hour ago saying we were having a sleepover at Careoline’s but she never explained why. 

She nods, “Ya, I guess he is keeping his side of the deal.

Bonnie chimes into the conversation but I tone them out. Ever since that night in Elena’s room, my mind has been plagued by thoughts of the suited original vampire. His dark eyes haunt my dreams and when I’m awake I feel as if he’s not far away. I know I’m being delusional but I have these moments where I think I’m going to turn around and he’s going to be standing right behind me. 

“He’s kind of cute,” Caroline’s words bring me back to the conversation at hand. 

“Who?” 

“Have you not been listening,” She asks me, to which I just shrug my shoulders embarrassedly. Caroline and I have started to have an interesting friendship. Unlike my friendship with Elena in which we both have somewhat trauma bonded, my friendship with Caroline is more her talking my ear off and me enjoying not having to talk. I had originally thought that Caroline and I wouldn’t mesh well since I kind of hate people who don’t know when to shut up. But oddly enough we work well together. I don’t pressure her to stop talking and she doesn’t pressure me to talk. 

Bonnie and I on the other hand both talk much so when we’re together it’s mostly in peaceful silence. I think we both appreciate that though with all the hectic things we’ve had to deal with. 

“Elijah. I was talking about Elijah. He’s got that suave gentleman look to him, but he also looks like he’d be a freak in the sheets if you know what I mean,” She jokingly shoves me but for some reason hearing her talk about him that way makes an odd feeling rise in my gut, “He seems like your type Y/N.”

My eyebrows furrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Caroline shrugs her shoulder, “I don’t know, just an inference.”

“How about we order food,” Elena pipes up, I’m guessing she noticed the embarrassed look I had on my face and decided to rescue me from that awkward conversation. I send her a small smile as Caroline instantly agrees and Bonnie nods. 

—

Thirty minutes later, Bonnie, Elena, Caroline, and I are sitting on the floor of Caroline’s bedroom eating Chinese food. I watch silently as Bonnie and Caroline argue if we should watch The Notebook or Pride and Prejudice. Elena sits next to me watching and giggling at them. As I sit there silently watching all my new friends, I find myself smiling to myself. For the first time in years, I actually feel as if I belong. As if I’m a part of something. And I like it. I really like it. 

—

RING RING RING

I jolt awake at the ringing of a cell phone and groan as the morning light pierces my eyes. I’m not the only one annoyed from being awoken because I hear Caroline and Bonnie growling at Elena for answering her phone so early in the morning. I can hear some of what she and Stefan are talking about from her position outside the door but decide listening to them flirt isn’t how I want to spend my morning so I throw my pillow over my head and try to suffocate myself. I’m about to doze off when my pillow is ripped off my face. 

“First of all, suffocation really,” Elena glances down at me from her standing position, “Second of all you’re getting a call.” She hands me my phone. I glance down at the unknown number on the screen and groan as I answer it, already annoyed with the caller.

“What do you want Damon?” I asked annoyed as I waited for the vampire to respond. 

“I’m picking you up from your house in an hour you better be dressed to impress Mystic Falls’ elite.”

“What the hell are you talking about Demon?”

“Listen Pukey, I got word that our favorite original is going to be at the Mayor’s tea party and you’re going as my plus one.”

I frown at Damon’s mention of Elijah, “Why me?” 

I hear Damon groan from his end as if all my questions are annoying him, “For some reason, the suited one has a soft spot for you so I’m guessing he would be less inclined to kill me with you at my side. So get your ass ready and be ready or I’ll drag you to the party in your PJs,” Damon pauses for a moment, “You know what, feel free to wear what you’re wearing now. I'm interested to know what you wear to sleep. If anything at all.”

I loudly gag and Damon laughs and then ends our call. I groan and sit up. I turn over my shoulder to see Caroline and Bonnie cuddling together and sleeping. I slightly smile at the sight but freeze up. Elijah. I’m seeing Elijah today. 

—

“Well, don’t you look darling,” Damon smirks at me as I get into the passenger seat of his Mustang, “Elijah’s going to eat you right up.” 

I visibly shake at his words and shoot him a glare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Elijah doesn’t have a soft spot for me.”

Damon just hums to himself, “Sure. Whatever you say Pukerella.”

—

As we climb the stairs of the Mayor’s house I nervously fiddle with the hem of my dress. I tried my best to find something suitable for the Mayor’s tea party but unfortunately, I didn’t have the funds for expensive beautiful dresses like my peers so I had to settle for a simple white sundress that stops at my mid-thigh. There is dark red lacing that lines the hem. I matched the red thread to a hair ribbon I had and used that to put my hair up. What is making me the most uncomfortable though is that I got this dress a long time ago, so I’ve filled it out in places that are quite visible. 

“Stop fiddling,” Damon says as he grabs my arm in his and holds it to his chest like we’re some cute couple and he’s a gentleman. Both are very much false. I try to shake away from him but his grip only tightens. He leads us up the steps and through the door where classical music fills the room. Many old women converse together as we pass.

“Damon and Y/N, what are you guys doing here?” Jenna questions him as she walks over to us, she notices me and a look of confusion contorts her face as she notices our interlocked hands.

“Hi, you came,” Some blonde woman comes up to Damon and kisses him deeply on the lips resulting in a gag from me. Thankfully the distraction made Damon unlatch his arm from mine so I squeezed past them and go to stand behind Jenna. This doesn’t last long as Damon thanks Jenna for introducing him and his “friend,” as he walks back over to me grabbing my arm and leading me away from them. I almost trip when I see where Damon is leading us. Right towards Ms. Lockwood and Elijah who is unsurprisingly wearing a suit that looks like it was made just for him, which I’m guessing it was. I lock eyes with him and his lips turn upwards into a small smile but it slightly drops as his gaze drops down to my dress. 

Damon and Ms. Lockwood achieve pleasantries and she introduces Damon to Elijah, who still has his eyes locked on me. Damon pulls me closer to him which catches Elijah’s attention. His once soft eyes darken as he stares at the arm Damon has wrapped around my waist.

“Such a pleasure to meet you,” Damon extends a hand to Elijah and I feel as if I’ve lost all the air in my lungs as Elijah reaches his hand up to Damon’s.

“No. Pleasure’s mine,” Elijah claims but as I notice the grimace on Damon’s face as he contracts his now-redden hand from Elijah’s I’m guessing he’s not being entirely truthful. 

“And oh! Y/N, I didn’t know you were going to be joining us today,” Carol finally notices me as she gives me a once over, “This doesn’t really seem like your crowd.”

I bite back the urge to tell her I’d rather be sticking pin-needles in my eye sockets than have to listen to any of the pompous bitches, but just politely smile at her. 

“Oh, Miss. Y/L/N here is my plus one,” Damon chimes up. Carol looks at me suspiciously as if I shouldn’t be here. 

“I didn’t know you and Y/N were friends.”

Damon throws his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him, “Oh, yes. We’re great friends. Practically best friends if you will.” Carol just nods her head as if she doesn’t completely believe it but relents as she turns to Elijah who hasn’t moved his eyes from Damon’s hand. With all the attention my skin starts to crawl and I raise my left foot slightly and kick it down onto Damon’s right one resulting in a painful hiss to escape his lips. His hand instantly drops from my shoulder and within a moment I feel another hand lightly grab my wrist and pull me away from Damon. I’m almost happy until I see the hand that has grabbed me belongs to no other than Elijah. For some reason though as soon as he has pulled me away from Damon he drops my wrist and lets me stand on my own. I know I shouldn’t but I send him an appreciative smile. For a moment Elijah just stares at me blankly before nodding his head, he quickly turns his attention back to Ms. Lockwood but before he’s fully turned away from me I could’ve sworn I saw a light pink hue on his cheeks. Was he blushing? Wait. can vampires even blush?

—

“This is a bad idea, why are you trying to provoke an old ass vampire who could quite literally kill everyone in this building within a blink of an eye,” I frantically ask Damon as he leads me into an empty office in the Mayor’s house. 

“He’s not going to kill us, he made a deal,” Damon responds nonchalantly but from the look in his eyes, I don’t think he truly believes himself either. 

“You’re quite right Damon, I did make a deal,” I whip around to see Elijah coming into the office and shutting the door behind him, “But, I made a deal with Elena, not you. So tell me, what can I help you with?”

“I was hoping we could have a word,” Damon smirks at him.

“Where is Elena?”

“Safe with Stefan. Laying low, you know bit of a werewolf problem,” Damon answers his question. Elijah nods his head. And my eyes watch as his fingers draw circles on the chair he’s leaning on. 

“Oh, yeah. I heard about that,” Elijah responds and I glance up from his hands to see him staring at me with a small smirk on his face. Fuck, please god tell me he didn’t see me ogling his fucking fingers. He taps his index and pointer finger twice on the leather seat in front of him once more as if he knows that’ll answer the question I just asked myself. I whip my view from him to the wall beside me as Damon and Elijah keep talking. Although I can't see him I can still feel Elijah’s eyes burning holes onto the side of my head. 

“I’m sure you did since it was your witch who saved the day.”

“You are welcome.”

“Which adds to my confusion on exactly why you’re here,” Damon stop fucking questioning him before he rips your throat out!

“Why don’t you just stay focused on keeping Elena safe and leave the rest to me,” Elijah turns like he’s about to leave and I release a breath but Damon speeds in front of him stopping him.

“Not good enough.”

I sit there holding my breath, as Elijah stands there still looking at Damon.

“Elskan,” Elijah turns his head to glance at me, “Please turn back to the wall.” 

I don’t fight him on this as I whip back around and continue staring at the wall I had previously stared at. I flinch when I hear Damon hit the wall by the desk. I almost gag when I hear the sound of bones cracking and Damon grunting in pain. 

“You young vampires, so arrogant. How dare you come in here and challenge me?”

“You can’t kill me, man. It’s not part of the deal.”

“Silence,” Within another second a squelching sound hits my ears and Damon starts grunting in pain. I’m glad Elijah gave me the heads up or I’d be throwing up right now. 

“I’m an original. Show a little respect. The moment you cease to be of use to me, you’re dead. So, you should do what I say. Keep Elena safe.”

I hear Elijah’s footsteps retreat towards to door but I hold my breath as they stop.

“Elskan,” I slowly turn and quickly avert my gaze from the bloody Damon and look up at Elijah who is standing at the door, “I will be seeing you shortly.” He stares at me momentarily before speeding away. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

—

“Why am I here again,” I question Damon as he leads me and Alaric into his mansion of a house. 

“Because I needed a drink asap,” He turns over his shoulder to look at me, “Unless you’re offering?” 

I cringe in disgust as Alaric comes to stand in front of me. 

“Leave her alone Damon,” Damon just rolls his eyes and makes his way to the couch, and pours himself a drink.

“Let me talk to him for a few minutes then I’ll take you home myself,” Alaric sends me a small smile, and even though I know there are no bad intentions in his proposition being alone with an older man I barely know unsettles me. But since it’s getting dark outside and I live on the outskirts of town, I need a ride. Better a history teacher than an alcoholic vampire. 

“Ok, thanks,” I send him a small smile and then turn to Damon, “Where’s your bathroom?” I glance down the neverending hallway.

Damon throws his hand up and waves it around nonchalantly, “There’s like 30 of them, go hunting.” Alaric sends me a sad smile and gestures towards the hallway to our right. I nod and walk away from the men 

After five minutes of walking down hallways and opening up random doors, I find myself in a bathroom bigger than my entire living room. Fucking rich people. After using the bathroom and wiping my face with water to try to wake myself up I start walking back towards where I think the living room was. I freeze though when I notice I don’t hear Damon’s annoying voice, matter of fact I don’t hear anything at all. I get a bad feeling in my gut so I go to turn back around but something smashes into my skull and the world goes black. 

— 

“Ah, there she is. Morning sweetheart,” I frown as an unfamiliar voice grates my eardrums. Mixed with the pounding headache I have I think I’m going to be sick. God, I have got to start taking Tums. I try to move but something cold and heavy is holding me back. I slowly open my eyes to see chains wrapped around me holding me in place in a chair. No matter how hard I try they won’t budge. 

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing,” A man’s voice registers as I look up to see an ugly-looking man staring down at me. The look in his eyes makes my heart drop to my ass. I flinch back as he drags his finger down my face and fight the urge to cry as the finger makes its descent down toward to center of my chest. 

“Leave her alone,” Damon, who I’ve now realized is sitting next to me chained up and bloody, yells at the man. The man only laughs sickly but thankfully lifts his hands away from me.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt her,” He claims but the look in his eyes has me thinking otherwise. Damon must think this as well because he lets out a low growl. 

“He might not hurt her but I will,” I woman’s voice chimes in but before I can find where it’s coming from a sharp pain slashes into my leg and I scream out as waves of agony wash over me. Damon’s yells are all I hear as I look down to my thigh which now has a small dagger in it. Tears involuntarily spill out of my eyes as my blurry vision looks up to see my assailant. A blonde woman stares down at me with a smile, but nothing about it is friendly and warm. Her smile deepens as she reaches her hand back down and within another moment I’m screaming again as she pulls the knife from my leg. 

“You fucking bitch,” I cry out, resulting in a deep laugh from her. 

“Hey, fleabag! Leave her alone alright, I’m the one who pissed all over your kibble, come stab me.” Damon tries to coax the woman. 

She just smiles again, “We want the moonstone. Where is it?”

“Get over it, honey. You’re never going to get it.”

I verbally groan at Damon’s response and try to fight back against the waves of tiredness of feeling. I know with the amount of blood I’m losing that if I go to sleep now I’m most likely not waking up. And there’s no way I’m letting this bitch with dead ends be the reason I meet my demise. 

“Looking for this,” I almost let out a cry of relief as I looked up to see Elijah leaning against a wooden pillar. His nonchalant attitude instantly changes as I catch his eye. His dark eyes furiously move over my face, his nose crinkles (almost cutely), and his eyes look down to my bleeding thigh. My once-white dress is now as red as the ribbon in my hair. 

I try to stay awake as Elijah makes his way down the staircase with the stone in his hands. My eyes keep opening and shutting though as my vision keeps blurring. I hear bits and pieces of screams and bones cracking before I feel the weight of the chains around me disappear and a warm hand raises to my lips. 

“That’s my girl, come now Elskan. Drink.”

—

I wake up in my bed with a loud groan. My hands stretch out beside me as I feel the white fabric of the comforter. Wait. White? I quickly sit up and instantly regret it as a wash-up pain flows through my body. But the fear that I had just awoken in a bed that is not my trumps that pain. What the fuck happened last night? “You’re awake, wonderful,” A deep voice comes from the edge of the room, “We have much to discuss, Elskan.”

[itskattkm]

I put a spell on you

Based on a request: I just read your baby fever thing and thought it was really cute. I liked how Wednesday slowly began to tolerate the idea of a child with R.

This doesn't have to be a contribution if anons of request, but could you do a short where R and Wednesday actually talk about having a kid, getting a surrogate or whatever voodoo magic the Addams family has, and then just having a heart to heart on it?

Wednesday Addams x Fem Reader

Warnings: cheesy, short smut, GiP, ritual, spell, family plans, Wednesday turning into a softy, sloppy writing, not really proof read

A/N: here it is my dear anon. Sorry for the long wait and I think it turned out way longer than I planned. Hope you enjoy it. More request are open :)

————————

You and Wednesday had been a couple for a few years now. You two met back then in Nevermore Academy where she basically saved the whole city. You both became a couple after tiny stolen moments between the two of you. Never would you have considered that Wednesday saw you as one of her friends. You always kept your distance but you were there if your friends needed you. So in the end you became a more important person in her second case then you actually planned and one thing came to another.

Years passed Wednesday became a well known writer but also solved the craziest crimes and caught the darkest killers just for fun. You were home in the big Victorian house you had bought with her once you two got married and moved out of the apartment you lived once’s. Wednesday was currently in her writing time. Something she still held onto. Even more after she really became a writer.

You walked slowly into her office. Hearing the sounds of her typewriter bitten one letter after another as she was working focused on her next novel.

“You’re planing to stay up all night?” You asked softly. Approaching her from behind. Looking over her shoulder and watching the words she kept hitting into the typewriter. "Mhm." Wednesday answered without looking up. "I can't get my last chapter just right." She typed a little longer. "Would you mind getting me a cup of coffee, querida mio?"

You hesitated but the fact she called you “her love” made her monotone voice sound so much softer. It was giving you some chills. After all she was Wednesday Addams. It was hard being her girlfriend sometimes but the little affection and hidden hints she gave you from time to time, they were your everything. So you made your way to the kitchen and made her an espresso with three shots as she liked or well… preferred. As you came back with the coffee and placed it on her table. Looking at her your face slightly flashed by the dimmed light in the room.

"Thank you... love" Wednesday smiled - literally her unique and rare Wednesday smile "I appreciate it. Really." She took a sip of the coffee.

"What would you do without me, hm?" She asked in her typical ironic and dry manner.

She typed some more. You chuckled about that dry joke, you should have been the one to ask her that. She wasn’t in the position to do that. Your chuckled died down in the new silence and Wednesday went back to writing. Hesitant you tried to start a conversation, ignoring how fast your heart was pushing suddenly and hoping she wouldn’t see the heat in your face. You knew her writing time was important. You may were her wife so Wednesday didn’t go hard on you when you interrupted her but still. It made you feel nervous some times.

“Wednesday can we talk?” you managed to whisper. She stopped typing for a moment and looked up, her dark eyes looking right through your soul. She was silent for a very long time before asking "Talk about what?".

began slowly and carefully “It’s been a while we had time to talk or do something together and I was thinking about something we talked about some time ago…”

Wednesday said nothing for an instant. She was silent. But then she put down the cup she had been holding as you talked.

She let her hands rest on her lap, turning fully in her chair to look at you.

"Yeah? What is it? What is it you want to say, my dear?" Wednesday asked in a very soft, comforting voice. She was clearly open to anything you might want to say. You sighed loud like you were holding so much back inside of you and took a chair nearby before sitting down beside her.

“We talked once about having kids….” My throat tightening as soon as those words left my mouth.

Wednesday blinked at the word 'kids'. She was silent for a long moment before she answered. "Yes. We did talk about that. I remember." Wednesday said very carefully. "Kids? You want children?" Wednesday asked, her voice was very low. “Well…” no more words left you as you got more nervous now. Slightly intimidated by her as mostly.

“Well… we have or jobs. Our house. We’ve been together for six years and married for two. I…” you shrugged your shoulders feeling almost dizzy, not sure what to say. How to make your point.

“I don’t Wanne wait to long Wednesday” you said softly, almost scared. Like you didn’t knew if it was okay to say this or even talk about this. But you knew you felt the urge too… maybe it was something in your nature. Your body saying that you were ready or maybe you were so madly in love with that woman that you wanted little versions of you both.

Wednesday leaned back in her chair again. She was quiet for a very long time. You waited patiently for her to say something but she only blinked. Wednesday looked at you "I'm afraid we can't have kids." Wednesday said in a very serious tone. "No children. At all. Ever." Wednesday repeated. She looked you in the eyes, her face expressionless. You leaned back as well and nodded your mind turning immediately into an auto pilot mode. But you had to admit That this was your fear as well. After all you both were woman, how was that supposed to work? For sure there were ways but deep down you knew that adoption wasn’t an option in the Addams family. Or anything else at all. You stayed calm on your face a wide understanding smile, but truth was you couldn’t hide the sadness you were sure that the smile made it even more obvious that this was going right through your heart. More than you wanted to admit.

Wednesday took your hand while you were silent avoiding her gaze, nodding and still smiling. "I know. You'd make such a great mother." She paused.

"We'll have a great life together, querida mio. I promise." Wednesday said reassuringly. "But no children. Okay? Are you okay with that, my dear? I know how much this means to you." Wednesday asked, looking at you. Her face showed genuine compassion.

You kept nodding, feeling like one of those dogs with a jiggling head for the car.

“yeah…” your voice near to break. You caressed her hand before getting up without looking at her. “Goodnight then… don’t work too long okay?” You added and left to your shared bedroom. Wednesday watched you leave. She couldn't say any more but she wanted to say something. When your bedroom door was shut she went back to work. She tried to write something again - but she couldn't. Instead she put the coffee cup aside and got up. Walking to your bedroom. She opened the door and went in quietly - slowly closing the door behind her.

You were already lying in bed holding yourself together. Staying quite. Pretending to be asleep. Wednesday sat down on the edge of your bed. "You're not asleep, my dear." Wednesday said. Her voice was very soft, that kind of soft that made you feel goosebumps all over your body but not this time. She laid a hand hesitant on your leg.

"I'm sorry for tonight." Wednesday said slowly. She hesitated for a while but then she leaned over you. Slowly she touched your neck and began to rub it in circles. Wednesday was calm and patient. She wanted to make you feel better. You were moving slight signaling that you didn’t felt like it now and wanted to be alone.

"Let me make you feel better." Wednesday said. "Please, Y/N. Let me help you." Wednesday spoke quietly and almost shy.

She went on to lightly and slowly rub away your worries on your back until you could feel her gentle touch. Wednesday was doing anything she could to make you feel comfortable again. She was trying to say sorry with her affection.

“Just leave it…” the words left you numb.

Wednesday didn't answer - she just kept rubbing your shoulder and neck for a little more while. Knowing you loved being touched on your neck. It always made you calm down, managed to make you feel better after nightmares. Wednesday wanted to show you how much she meant her apology. She wanted you to trust and love her again cause she felt like you didn’t wanted to feel anything of that at all right now. But she also didn't want to pressure you. "I'm sorry." Wednesday said again. She hesitated. "I love you." Wednesday whispered.

Her words having so much power over you. You felt conflicted. A tear rolled down your eye. She couldn’t see cause your back was facing her as u stayed quiet and tried to sleep or at least act like you were sleeping. Wednesday noticed that you weren't asleep. She could tell that you were tearing up. She wanted to keep you calm. So Wednesday laid down beside you and spooned you. Held you. She stroked your arm to comfort you. She wanted to keep you from falling apart because she knew how hard you could be to yourself sometimes.

The next day you woke up before Wednesday. You got changed, prepared breakfast. Today you wanted to visit her family since her younger bother Pugsley was celebrating his engagement. Wich meant you needed to go to the Addams mansion and would be part of the big family reunion. Wednesday woke up shortly after you, seeing you already got ready for today.

"You didn't need to cook me breakfast." Wednesday said slowly.

“It’s literally the only thing I’m actually good at…” you said trying to joke but you didn’t laughed or smiled. She hesitated. "Thank you, my dear." A genuinely smile on her cold lips.

"I'm sorry for last night..." Wednesday said in a very quiet tone and added after a short time "I love you, sweetheart.”

“Let’s not talk about that” you whispered and sounded colder then you meant to

You gave her a small kiss on the cheek.

“Now hurry… we’ll be late” you added.

"Okay." Wednesday whispered back.

She did get ready, quickly brushing her hair and putting on clothes to look good, appropriate for the family and mostly for you. "Let's go." Wednesday said, trying to push everything away for today. But the thought of yesterday wasn't gone. But she wanted to push it away for today. After a while Lurch came and picked you both up. You were sitting in the back of the car. Not really talking. When you made it to her family’s mansion you were greeted by her father Gomez and mother Morticia with much love as usual. Your parents in law. You loved them as much as your own, maybe even more. Let’s be for real.

Wednesday stayed quiet as she held you close to her. She may wasn’t a person for physical touch but you were different. And after moments like yesterday Wednesday felt weak. Addicted or cursed. Cause she couldn’t face seeing you like that. So those were moments where she longed for physical touch with you. She felt her black heart pound harder, happy that her parents gave you the same love and affection, you deserved it, you were family now. But Wednesday still felt a little out of place. She felt like she was the odd one out today more than usual - in her own family. She still couldn't shake off the feeling about yesterday's talk.

Inside of the Addams mansion you looked for Pugsley and his fiancé Mary. As soon as your eyes found them, you had a genuine smile for the first time since last nights events. You greeted them and wished them the best, having slight small talk and all.

After a while you found yourself with the rest of the Addams family and more in the big dinning hall. All different types of creatures and human beings. Outcasts and normies. They were all celebrating the engagement of her brother with Mary. But you could feel that it wouldn’t take long till people would start asking you and Wednesday dozen questions.

Right now you were talking with her grandma. Wednesday was happy about the engagement even tho no one could see it in her dead pan eyes. She was still silent. She stayed by your side. For the whole time, her family and their guests had their eyes on you.

You were the only one who noticed that Wednesday didn't really wanted to talk. Like most of the time. She didn't wanted to engage in conversations. She just sat by your side her mind a mess.

But it was nothing new, you were always the talk active at events while Wednesday kept being her anti social self. She surely did the usual deadly pranks with her brother and talked a lot with her uncle fester. But yeah. It was actually normal. But today Wednesday stayed with you the whole time. She was almost clingy. A very rare thing. She didn't want to go anywhere without you. She was always by your side, but at the same time - she still was in silence. She answered some questions directed to her but she looked very uncomfortable with everyone giving her the looks. And you felt this. You didn't need words to know how Wednesday felt right now. It pained your heart for her but also you didn’t wanted to feel anything right now cause you knew why.

“So y/n… when can we see the breed of you two?” Said Wednesdays grandma and you immediately froze. You weren’t sure if this was a joke or just a coincidence. So you smiled weak and left Wednesday and her grandma alone, finding a fake excuse to leave the conversation. Walking out of the mansion to be alone.

Wednesday suddenly turned red. Wich was even more rare than her smiling. Not because she felt embarrassed but because she saw how you felt about her grandma's question. Wednesday was always afraid of family questions. Of others asking about babies and families. Because she knew that it was something that she could never offer to anyone. Wednesday never knew how to react when someone mentioned children. Wednesday stayed silent and looked after you, hoping for anything that could make it better - for you. She looked away completly when she couldn't answer the question after you left.

Mortica had her eyes on the two of you the whole night and saw what happened, so she approached Wednesday and her grandma asking “Everything alright? Why did y/n leave?.”

"I just..." Wednesday started to speak - trying to stay calm. She tried to find something that would make everything okay. "Grandmother... She just asked us something... I couldn’t answer." Wednesday said very nervously. She still looked away in shame. She tried to stay calm. She was ashamed that she was the reason of all of this. She was ashamed because she couldn't give you the family you deserved. Morticia looked confused at her daughter and then at her mother in law “What was it about?” Asked Morticia even tho she already knew the answer.

"She... She asked..." Wednesday said shyly. "... She asked why we didn't have any children yet..." Wednesday replied as silent as possible for a second. Wednesday kept her avoiding the gaze of her mother and grandmother. Wednesdays mother tilted her head she didn’t saw the problem in that “And?.”

"Well... There isn't going to be any children..." Wednesday said softly. She looked up, still a little quiet and nervous. "We can't have any." Wednesday repeated, now more seriously. Morticia smiled wide she understood what the problem was.

Hesitant she touched Wednesdays shoulder without really touching it and said “My dear death trap… you know you can. You’re an Addams. And you’re my daughter. You have the powers of witch craft. You can have children with y/n… it’s not a problem at all that you both are women”

Wednesday froze for a moment. Her eyes went wide and she blushed. This wasn't what she expected at all and for the first time she felt actually dumb, dumb for not thinking about this herself. She suddenly felt shy to tell her mother more about your relationship. She looked at her mom again, still quiet. "W-What..??.." Wednesday said in confusion. Wednesdays grandma laughed “You didn’t considered to use a ritual?” She asked like it was the most normal thing. "A ritual? No... I never thought about that..." Wednesday said. She blushed even more and looked away. Her heart was racing. She couldn't believe it.

Wednesdays mother smiled genuine

“There are rituals that make it possible for you two to have your very own child…”

She sighed with a loving smile on her lips and looked around. “You should look for your wife and have a talk…” she added.

Wednesday looked up at her mother in awe. No. With respect. She couldn't believe what her mother had said. Could a ritual actually make it possible for you to have children? Wednesday was speechless.

She excused herself and made her way to the Addams library trying to find this ritual. She didn't took too long. Very quickly she found a small book. It had been written almost a century ago but it was exactly what she was searching for. Wednesday put the book in her bag but she could already hear the doors open behind her. She went silent. She was very nervous. The book could change everything...

“There she is my favorite niece!” said Fester with big eyes, electricity sparkling out of his fingertips and greeted Wednesday. She looked at uncle Fester and immediately tried to hide the book deeper in her bag and acted cool. "H-Hi..." Wednesday said softly but nervously. She was freaking out inside - and even a little bit scared. She didn’t wanted to talk with her family about you and hers problems in marriage or well… bed. But she wouldn’t consider it as a problem in bed. In bed was everything more than fine.

“Where’s y/n? I haven’t seen her since a while” asked Fester. "Uhm- she went to get some fresh air for a moment. She's outside." Wednesday answered, trying to seem unreadable. "She'll be back soon..." she hoped. She wasn’t sure were you were but she saw you leaving the mansion.

Fester looked at Wednesday with a knowing cheeky smile and said “She’s at the Addams graveyard”. Wednesday realized that uncle Fester knew. How long was she already outside? How long did she take to find the old book? Wednesday tried to say something but just nodded. She tried to find the right words. She tried to be careful with her words. “Uncle Fester... You know pretty much about spells and rituals, right?" She still tried to stay calm.

“Is this about something specific?” He said teasing and gave Wednesday a wink while chuckling. She blushed for a second. She couldn't believe that he knew - but he knew the whole time... Wednesday looked at him. Her eyes told everything. Even without her speaking he already knew everything about her relationship and how she felt. "Uncle Fester - I need you help." Wednesday said quietly. Fester smiled wider. "I... I found an old book..." Wednesday said. She looked down. "Its about a ritual that could help us to have a child..." Wednesday said while looking back at Fester. Wednesday was nervous. She really hoped that he could help her.

Fester looked at the book she pulled out of her bag and nodded

“That’s right… but the one you have is a way more newer ritual. I don’t know if it works as good as the old one”. He walked towards the shelves and picked up a way smaller one and much older one.

“This one. Will defiantly work.

One of our family members used it once. How do you think was vetter it born?” He laughed. “With that ritual… anyone can have children…” he added. Wednesday was shocked. She didn't thought of that - but it was possible now. It was possible that they could have a child. It was the one thing she wanted to hear right now. She blushed and looked at Fester in awe. She finally smiled but still was stunned. She looked down to the ground and nodded. "I need to speak with y/n... I'll let her know." Wednesday said softly. She turned around to go back to you and find you.

Wednesday left the library and went back to you. Finally she took this one step. She went outside, smiling at you with a small glow to her face. "I'm back dear." Wednesday said.

She looked around and saw there was nobody around, it was just both of you.

She approached you with confidence and put her hand on your cheek. "I have good news..." you were surprised to see her. But kept avoiding her eyes as you watched the family gathering from afar through the windows of the mansion. Now that no one could hear her she finally had the courage to say it. "I have a plan... A ritual that could make it possible for us to have children. I found the book and asked uncle Fester to confirm it. He said that it would work." Wednesday tried to give you a smile but she was still too scared to actually look at you. She was afraid of your reaction. She was afraid she couldn't make you happy with this.

Your heart skipped a beat and your face felt hot you looked at her shocked and asked “what?”

"We can have a child.... I just spoke to Uncle Fester about it..." Wednesday looked at you. Her voice was still shaking but she hoped that you was happy - like her. "I know this is important to you - but..." Wednesday paused for a second and looked down.

"Do you want that... Do you want this..?" Wednesday asked quietly. You were stunned and speechless and said confused “You talked with fester about this?”. Wednesday nodded quickly. "Yes... I talked to him about this... I had to... And... We can make this work. We can have a family." Wednesday said with a nervous smile.

One of those rare smiles she wouldn’t give everyone. That showed her beautiful dimples. That made you weak. You looked down not sure what to feel. You weren’t sure if she did find a way to make this possibly for us or just to make you happy…

Wednesday noticed your reaction. "If you don't want this... I understand..." Wednesday said softly. She looked at you. Her eyes showed her worry unsure what to say now. “No! It’s just…” I began with teary eyes “You gave me hope for one year. And when I asked you yesterday you said it will be something that will never happen and be something you can’t give me and now your coming and tell me about a ritual?”

"I know..." Wednesday said silently. She tried to get even closer than she already was. Wednesday put a hand under your chin and raised your head. She looked at you straight in the eyes and smiled softly.

"I was wrong yesterday... I just... I was scared to talk to you about this. I didn't want to give you hope in case it wouldn't work. No. Thats not true. I was dumb. I didn’t think so far… That's why I said that.... But Fester gave me the book... I... I think we can really do this. It's a miracle but I believe in it... Do you?"

A sigh escaped you and you rested your forehead on yours with closed eyes as tears rolled down my cheeks “Do you?” I whispered weak. Wednesday's heart started to beat even faster. She tried to wipe your tears away. "Yes... We can... I believe it..." Wednesday said softly. She put her other hand behind your head. She looked at you very deeply. "I think we can make this work, I do." Wednesday whispered back and smiled again. You looked at her

“You really want this? And you don’t do this just because of me? I need to know if you want this as well as how much as I want this Wednesday” I said softly looking at my wife.

"I want us to have a family." Wednesday said confidently and took your hands. She looked directly in your eyes as she repeated herself. "I want us to have a family that is complete. With you - with us. It really is important to me." Wednesday said honestly. Her eyes showed no doubt of what she just said. Wednesday was sure this was the right decision. “There’s no going back…” I whispered looking deep into your eyes. Wednesday smiled gently and kissed your forehead. She was still very close to you.

"It is the right decision..." Wednesday said. She looked into your eyes again with a small smile on her face. She pulled you a little bit closer and pressed you against her. "I guess we have some work to do... Now..." Wednesday said and smiled at you again. Wednesday was nervous but she felt confident in her decision and the fact that there was no way back now.

A true smiled filled with happiness came on your lips. You pulled her closer saying “I love you…” She hugged you. And you felt her heart beating under your chest. Her breath smelled sweet and she held you tighter.

She still smiled but her eyes looked a little bit like she still had something to say.

Your heart beat faster. Wednesday was beautiful, wonderful and caring just like you always had loved in moments like this. She was perfect - like everything about her.

Her braids were falling on both sides to the side of her face. She was wearing her dark lipstick and she was so... mesmerizing. She always had been. This feeling was perfect. This moment was perfect. You two were perfect for each other.

She looked down for a second and smiled again. She then slowly pulled you closer and kissed you. But not like something quick and without much emotion. She kissed you soft and slow like you had never been kissed before. Wednesday put her arms around you. You both were close and she looked at you. You could see that she was not scared anymore. She kissed you again and whispered quietly as she did.

"I love you y/n..." Wednesday said and slowly broke the kiss. Your hearts were beating like never before.

You drove back home pretty fast after that.

Now you were sitting at the end of your bed and watched Wednesday looking through the book. You felt nervous as she showed you the book with the ritual. “So how does it work?” You asked as you were already only in your underwear and wore a slight silk black gown on top.

"It's an old ritual..." Wednesday begann.

She opened the book and looked at you explaining the rituals step by step.

"The ritual takes approximately two hours... We're doing everything that is written down here. After that you need to drink a potion to confirm the ritual. And than..." Wednesday closed the book.

"It happens." Wednesday said. She put the book down, looked at you.

"Are you ready querida mio?" She asked shyly. “Two hours?” I asked shy

“What are we doing those two hours?” The answer was pretty clear but you were still to stunned to believe it.

Wednesday didn't even answer. She just blushed a little bit, a light smirk at the corner if her lips. She came closer to you and started to kiss you. She gave you her whole attention. She took your hands and put them on her body. Her cheeks were a little red but her lips were still dark.

She smiled evil and kissed you again.

She gave you her whole attention, everything in her was only for you - right now.

You breathed heavy and melted right into her. Kissing her back. The candles around you two that had been placed in a circle, were making this so much more intimate then it already was. It was the most incredible moment of her life. This moment - right here. With her girl. With y/n. She kissed you, she held you close, she touched you. You were so close together - so beautiful. The candles around the room put your faces in a romantic light and gave you a romantic but also spooky atmosphere. Your hair looked so soft and beautiful. You were so incredibly beautiful. The book with the rituals lay open nearby. She had prepared everything for this moment.

She finally could have everything with her girl and You felt pure joy.

“What about the potion?” You whispered between kisses your hands on her waist. Wednesday laughed softly. She couldn't help but smile "You'll drink it in the last moment..." Wednesday said softly. She was still holding you close and was still touching your body with a soft hand that got a little bit warmer. She was in a very good mood. She smiled the way she rarely did had, with a dark and sexy hint. But today - everything was different. Everything was so much more tense… in a good way. Almost like in the night of your first or well second time. The one you both started exploring each other way more than usual.

"It's still so unreal... That we really are going to have a family." Wednesday said and kissed you again. She kissed you so soft that you didn't even felt it at first. But with every passing minute, the kiss became harder. Bruising your lips. Tight grips around your body. The hunger was there and so much more.

You breathed heavier and was lying now on the pentagram you two had to draw before on the floor. Wednesday held you very close on the pentagram. You were laying down and felt her breath against your lips. Everything about this moment was so magical. So wonderful. And it was really just the beginning. She gently kissed you over your cheeks and jaw. Then she looked you in the eyes and kissed you heavy on the lips. She put her hands on your hips and pulled you closer to herself. In her eyes was passion and lust. The way she was breathing made it look like she was starving. Starving to touch and feel you.

You held each other so close. You wanted this so much. You felt her hair and her arms and she didn't stop kissing you. Wednesday was so amazing and you wanted everything from her right now.

The lights from the candles put you in a beautiful light. It was the right atmosphere and the right time. The room was filled with love and happiness.

It was just you and her. It was just Wednesday and y/n. A wonderful moment together. The most precious moment.

She leaned over you. Her skin was soft. Her hair was shining in the light of the candles. She smelled like a deadly flower her smell driving you to another world and then she started to kiss you again. Her body was so close and so soft against yours. You felt the heat of your bodies and you felt the love you both shared even stronger as her hands gripped tight your hips and thighs.

You didn't want to miss even a single second of this moment. And Wednesday didn't let you. She kissed you - touched you - caressed you. She was completely yours right now. A heavy breath of pleasure escaped your throat as her fingers pressed into your thigh. Wednesday wasn't shy to show her attraction. She put her arms on your waist and pressed you harder into the floor. She kissed you even harder and longer. You could feel how close her body was with yours. Wednesday smiled in pleasure. She was enjoying it. Everything about this moment was good. Everything about this moment was perfect.

Your hand moved around her neck as you gripped it tight. Your tongue licking her lower lip before you moved it inside to meet hers.

The kiss was more passionate than ever. Heat was rising between you both. You could feel your need growing. Every touch and kiss sended electric waves right between your legs. Suddenly Wednesday turned around and pulled you on top of her.

Now that you were on top of her you kissed her neck. Your hands caressing her thigh’s while your teeth hovered over her pulse.

Wednesday skin turned more and more into color. She looked at your hands and the kiss was still soft. It only got more intimate. Wednesday kissed you back - not just on the face - but everywhere around your neck. Wednesday was hungry and lovely at the same time. Your touch made her feel warm. She put her hands around your hip and pulled you even closer to her. Her legs were now completely wrapped around yours.

You gasped when you felt something between the two of you down there.

Eyes looking down to see a big bulge in her underwear.

“Is this part of the ritual?” You asked nervous and felt so much more turned on now. Wednesday grinned devilish. She didn't answer right away. She took her time to think about what she said next. Your hands were still on her hips and she moved them a little bit closer. She could feel how you reacted to her right now. You were excited. Wednesday was not surprised. She was excited too - because of this moment and because she could see your reaction.

She looked at you and whispered seductive.

"In the ritual there is one part where we... We need us to be very close... It's very important..."

“Yeah I know but i didn’t knew that the ritual and spell would give you a dick for that…” I said honestly and felt your hardness against my probably soaked slip.

Wednesday kept that sexy evil grin. Your reaction and this moment were so hot. She liked what she saw.

"The ritual has a few different parts in it..... But it's nothing strange. Nothing that wasn't planned." Wednesday said softly and kept a smile on her whole face.

She was so nervous and so excited at the same time but somehow managed to keep it cool. "I guess we can start the next part now... Can we?" Wednesday asked, but you could see that she really wanted it.

You grinned and leaned back down over her.

Grabbing tight her chin as you pulled her in a fierce kiss.

Wednesday was overwhelmed. The kiss was deep and passionate. She bucked her hips. Her hands were running over your hips and your back. Her erection was almost painful by now. It was defiantly a different experience to be intimate with you like that. To feel the effect you had on her, to see how much control you had over her.

She did not want this moment to be over. Wednesday wanted to be with you like that. Forever.

You became more confident and curious so you started grinding your hips into her hardness, to see how good the spell actually worked.

Wednesday was breathless.

She didn't speak a single word. She just kissed you back softly. The spell worked perfectly. She felt it.

Wednesday was almost panting. She put her hands tighter on your hips and pulled until she felt that you were right over her. She wasn’t nervous anymore. She was completely comfortable with you in this position. And she liked what she saw. And what you did to her.

“If there’s a way to use this part of the spell again… then we have to do this way more often” you said heavy against her lips as you kept moving against her erection.

Wednesday was completely overwhelmed. The spell worked better and better. Wednesday's breath was heavy. She did not know what to say. But she did not speak. She didn't want to stop what was happening right now.

Wednesday moved herself more and more in a motion with you. She kept kissing you and she did not stop. She couldn’t. You kissed her deep and turned both of you around cause you wanted her to be on top while you would do this. Wednesday didn't say anything. She followed your move. Your body was now laying under hers. She was completely yours right now. A moan escaped you. Wednesday was blushing. She knew it was the spell - she also knew that it was working perfect. And she was so happy.

She started to kiss down from your neck to other areas with hot open mouthed kisses . She was moving herself and wanted to make you happy - make y/n happy now. Every single muscle in her body felt alive now. The spell made her feel so excited. Wednesday was yours now. She was yours forever - she wanted this. She would never ever let you go - and she meant it from the bottom of her heart. She knew your souls were bonded for this and every other life. Always meant to be together in this and every other world.

Wednesday was so happy. You were everything she wanted. No. needed in her life. You were her wife. She was ready - and she wanted you to realize that she would give you everything you wanted, needed and wished for right now. You were everything to her. All of you.

Wednesday took control of the situation - with a spell and a few words. She was in a completely other world. She didn't want to speak. She wanted to keep kissing you. And she did. She tried all different places.

Wednesday was kissing you all over your face again. She took her hands away of your back and started taking of your slip. And she didn't stop kissing you. Instead she gave you love bites. All over your neck, collarbone and chest. Within seconds both of you were naked.

Hands and fingers roaming other each others body. Wednesday breathed lower and slower as she looked into your eyes for a short moment before kissing you long.

While doing that she positioned herself at your entrance. She knew exactly what to do since you both used a strap on regularly. Almost… regularly. But this was so much better. It made her feel everything. It gave her the full experience. She wanted to slap herself for being so dumb and never considering to use spells for things like that.

The words “my dear you’re so wet…” were on the tip of her tongue but she had always been a bit shy when it came to dirty talk. So she kept the words in her mind and started moving herself into you.

Meeting your tight walls, made her almost moan right away. “Deeper…” you said heavy and she did as you wished. Stretching you out and filling you completly with her dick.

Wednesday started to move slow with deep thrusts first but became faster in a short time. She moved her hips in different styles and tried different kinds of movements.

"Y/n... You are so beautiful..." Wednesday said in between short breaths that were hitting against your neck.

She tried to be as soft as possible - but that was hard. She usually liked being a bit rough. She knew you liked that too under special circumstances and something was telling her that you wanted it rough now.

You started moaning

Your nails deep in her back as you said breathless “I love you querida mio…”

Wednesday was breathing heavy as she heard you moan.

"I love you too querida mio..." Wednesday was kissing your neck again. And then your chest and everywhere else. Wednesday wasn't stopping. She was doing this perfect.

The room was so filled with love. The candles made this moment beautiful.

Everything about you - from your face to your body - you were so beautiful.

Everything about this moment was perfect and Wednesday could feel it coming. She didn't even try to hold it anymore. She didn't say a single word.

She was holding you tight and she knew she could finally let go.

She let all the pleasure come over her and she felt complete as you both reached the peak. Wednesday took a deep breath. Her body was shaking right now. She was still on top of you - her whole body breathing a little bit faster. She didn't move her head and she just kept kissing you.

She didn't want to stop now. This moment was perfect. You panted holding gently her cheek as you kissed her back asking “The potion?”.

Wednesday wasn't talking but she smiled. Her eyes glowed up in love and she kissed you back. "Yes... We are almost done... We just need one more spell..." Wednesday whispered and kissed you again.

Her eyes and her smile was full of love now. She held your cheek again and you could feel that she wanted to be right here. With you. Forever. Finally you both could have your very own family. “So what’s the next step then?” You asked. Wednesday didn't say anything. She kissed you again. For a long and soft kiss.

"The next spell is the ritual of the union. I need you to read it for me and then we will be done...." Wednesday whispered.

She was shy again and she didn't move her mouth.

"Just say the words I write down for you on the paper...." Wednesday whispered and gave you a piece of paper.

"Do you trust me?" Wednesday asked.

You nodded and Was feeling excited and with full hope. Hoping you both could have your own family. Hoping you would be pregnant after this. Wednesday climbed off you and gave you the piece of paper and started to smile.

"Okay dear I will write down the words of the spell now." Wednesday sat down beside you. She didn't say anything. She just wrote. It did not take long and she looked into your eyes with love and gave you the paper back.

"Read it loudly and I will listen. Say those words for me... Together we will be united..." Wednesday whispered. You nodded and started reading it out loud.

"Now the spell of union. In the name of true love I cast this spell over us. I call forth the power of all love rituals, spells, potions, incantations and sacrifices. May the love of two souls be forever united in this life and the next. I bind our souls together forever. You feel me. I know. And that is why I know this is meant to be. Let our love remain unbreakable and create something more. And last forever more."

Wednesday watched you and listened.

You chuckled after reading this

“This actually sounds like a second vow… and not like something we can have a baby with” memories of your first night together after the wedding came back. "I know... It's my little surprise..." Wednesday whispered. A devilish grin on her lips and kissed you again. She wanted this moment very much to be like on your wedding night. She wanted this night to be special and romantic. And it was. You kissed her back and after that, you drank the potion for the ritual, coming slowly to an end.

"The potion works slowly. It takes a little bit of time. It's good that we still have time for a little bit more… fun. I don't want this night to end."

Wednesday layed there - next to you - her arm wrapped around you as she caressed you back. You looked at the time “So I guess we need to go another round? Only one from two hours passed from the ritual” a slight teasing tone in your voice.

Wednesday kissed your cheek and laughed. "Yes... we need another round."

She moved your lips with hers slowly again.

"I can't think of anything else right now than just being with you... and giving you so much pleasure..." Wednesday whispered her lips on your pulse. She tried to make this moment last as long as possible. The potion was still working very slowly so she used the time she had right now to her advantage...

“Do you think it will work?” You asked softly

The fact that the ritual and spell actually gave her a dick to do this made you still scared that it wouldn’t work. Wednesday moved a bit closer to you. She looked you deep in your eyes and she smiled. She kept kissing you but after a while she whispered.

"We won't know until it's done. But I would say - it will work. The spell is working so it's just a matter of time." Wednesday had no doubt that you would be happy. In her eyes the union spell would work and everything would be fine. Your love would be there - and would last forever and most importantly… would create something beautiful. With the best parts of you both. "I love you so much... You are everything to me... You are the most beautiful woman ever..." Wednesday whispered and kissed you so passionately.

Your whole body was full of goosebumps and you felt like this should have always been the way. This was destiny. Wednesday was your girl and you would never let her go now.

You saw your whole life before your eyes together. In your head you saw that everything was right now. The feeling was more than perfect. “I love you Wednesday Addams” you whispered caressing her cheek and lower lip with your thumb. Wednesday was breathing heavily now as she kissed you again. She moved her hand up and down your chest as she kissed you again right now. She whispered softly.

"I love you so much. You make so much sense to me. Everything feels right with you. We are two people, we are together forever. This is our life right now. I am so thankful that we have each other..."

One week passed after the events of the ritual and spell you both were back in the usual routine. She was working on her book and cases and while you did your work as a video editor as usual from home. Wednesday finished her current case and looked on the clock. In about half an hour she would get a call from her office and then she could finally be done with work for today. Wednesday looked at y/n’s picture on her phone and smiled. It was perfect. Wednesday was now waiting to get this call and then she could get home and see you.

She still had in her mind the feelings of the ritual from a week ago. She just could not stop thinking about it. It was perfect and it would be her new every evening memory now. Wednesday was driving home now and was excited to see y/n. In less than 10 minutes she would be there and she could finally see if her wife had maybe some great news. While she was driving you were walking down the house up and down. Nervous about the test and excited at the same time.

Wednesday finally came home and saw you waiting. Wednesday gave you a long kiss and hugged you short. "Was your day alright my dear?" Wednesday asked as she let herself go. “Yeah querida mio” I said happy and kissed you long before pulling away. “So… let’s check what the pregnancy test says… I know it’s early but it’s still a spell so maybe… who knows…”

"Yes y/n. let's check it now." Wednesday took the pregnancy test that y/n was holding in her hands. Wednesday looked at it as she saw that it was positive.

"We did it... We are having a baby." Wednesday kissed you passionately and was so happy. Adrenaline and excitement rushing through her like never before. She couldn't even tell how happy she was right now. You did it. Your love produced a life.

Love produces life - and that was incredible. Wednesday was so full of love she couldn't stop thinking about you and the baby right now. You were speechless. And had tears of relive in your eyes “it worked?!”

Wednesday was smiling and kissed her passionately again. She was so happy.

She started to cry even a little bit. "Yes querida mio it worked. It really did!

We have a baby on our way. I love you so much." You smiled with slight tears and kissed her back deeply “Why didn’t you come up with the ritual earlier?” You said chuckling.

It's been a few months and the months were flying by. You were pregnant and your belly was getting bigger and bigger. "I'm so excited about being a mother..." Wednesday whispered to you.

Everything was perfect right now. They had each other. They had their baby. And they had their spell. It worked perfectly. The ultimate ritual of true love. I chuckled

“It’s weird to see you being all affectionate and a softy. If someone would see you like that they wouldn’t believe it”

Wednesday was touching your belly now. You were sitting in the kitchen now together.

"It feels weird for me too. It does not feel real to talk so openly about emotions. But this is our baby. And it does not matter how others see us if they see us being in love.

The whole world could look at us and laugh, but we don't need to care. We love each other and we are now having a baby. The proof is in your belly now dear. Besides that. I’ll kill everyone who dares to look weird or say something" Wednesday smiled evil. It was still so weird to see her smiling all the time. And being way more softer than she truly was. But you were happy that you were the one who had that effect on her. And you were excited to see how both of you would raise the child. You hoped it would be a Addams like the others.

"Our baby will be dark and unique as an Addams. Maybe a bit scary but very smart. Just like us." Wednesday said with a proud smirk making you chuckle “well I hope”.

"I hope so too. But I think we are having a really smart and dark child for sure. At least if he is a little bit like me I'm satisfied." Wednesday said as she kissed your stomach. She was so happy. Everything was perfect right now. “He?” I said teasing

Then I added “I hope he will be just like you. So I don’t have to worry that much about the baby, cause I know it can handle everything by himself”

Wednesday smiled. "Yes. A boy would be nice. It's a little bit more fitting for an Addams child." Wednesday added with a little grin on her face.

"Just think how good he will look in his own little funeral suit. He will be adorable." Wednesday laughed a little bit as she said the last thing. She loved your little teasing and she loved that you could have fun. It meant so much to her. You laughed about this and shook your head it was so typical for her. But I was actually surprised that she wanted a boy. You always thought she was pulled to powerful woman and stuff like that cause she was one herself.

“Tell me more about what you imagine our child to be like…” you said peacefully. Wednesday smiled and took your hand and kissed it.

"Dark. Smart. Funny. A bit weird and maybe a bit scary. But very lovable. Just like us." Wednesday said as she kissed your hand and looked in your eyes.

She imagined it to be a beautiful child. Wednesday really didn't have a preference between a boy or girl.

In her imagination the child would fit perfectly into their little Addams family.

More months passed and you both were lying in bed now. Wednesday had her hand gently on you belly that was now way much bigger.

"She is active. I can feel it." Wednesday said smiling. You smiled watching her touch your belly and observe the movements of your baby girl. It turned out that it wasn’t going to be a boy. But none of you cared about that. The important thing was to have a healthy baby. "She is so active. I can't even believe it. But I also love it... Our little girl is going to be here so soon. I'm already so happy that she is growing more and more every day. I just love her so very much already." Wednesday said as she kissed your belly. The baby was moving a lot. Wednesday could feel her more and more every minute.

Time flew by faster and soon you found yourself with her in the hospital after giving birth. Wednesday held their daughter close and she looked at you.

"I will always take care of our little girl...

She is so beautiful. I am so glad that we are good mothers. What should we call our little girl?" Wednesday said as she kissed their daughter and then look at you.

You could finally name your little girl. A child made out of pure love and dedication. Their Addams child. They could not have asked for anything better. You looked at both at them thinking about names that would fit an Addams and the miracle it self. "There is Pandora, Persephone, Calypso...

I know these are unusual. Do you have any ideas? Maybe some dark or even Latin names?" Wednesday asked.

It was always important to Wednesday to have a strange and powerful, old fashioned but dark and mysterious name. Just like a true Addams. Something special. “What about Dahlia?” You asked.

It was her favorite flower and crime story.

In your opinion the crime was to much but the flower was perfect.

Daliah Addams.

Wednesday smiled.

"I'm really happy with that name. She is going to be quite a powerful woman like us." Wednesday said and looked at you.

"I want her to grow up with strong characters. To have confidence and love. But also to be able to have power and to use it." Wednesday said smiling.

She did not know where she took those strong feelings from. It was just a sudden feeling that she now wanted all that for their little Daliah.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 20 pt. 2- I Do

Summary: It's wedding time, baby.

Word Count: 17.4K (.....I'm so sorry)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, marriage kink, big, fat, nasty, unspeakable breeding kink (holy SHIT you guys, I really went balls to the wall on this one, I fear), kind of semi-public sex (you already know these horndogs are going at it again), More getting caught (Steve is causing his own problems at this point), wedding things!!, family dynamics, mentions of death/grief, lots of emotions, alcohol/drinking, so many feelings (grab the tissues, friends), Javi being adorable with kids, Javi being so in LOVE it HURTS?!? So much joy and happiness because Javi deserves the world and more

A/N: HELLO. Part 2 is finally finished *insert Spongebob narrator voice* 4 years later 🫠 Omg y'all, thank you SO much for bearing with me as I finish this, it has been a labor of love like no other, but I am so excited to finally share our favorite couple's special day and finally GET THESE TWO MARRIED 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I would very much be lying if I said I didn't cry multiple times writing this chapter 🥺 I can't believe these two are actually getting married- words can't express how thankful I am for everyone who's wanted to stick around and read my silly little story to see these two make it to their wedding day- your support and kind words mean more to me than you will ever know 💛 Poorly beta'd bc I'm the worst, also, I've seen that sometimes people have issues reblogging things with comments that are this long (my apologies), but comments and reblogs make me wanna cry and throw up with joy, so it means a lot to me if you're able to leave a comment if it won't let you reblog with one!!!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

Never had you been so anxious to walk in a straight line. 

Because truth be told, that was all you needed to do to walk down the aisle- walk in a straight line. 

But when that straight line meant the walk to finally get to marry your future husband, to take his last name, to start the beginning of your forever together, not to mention kissing him in front of all your closest family and friends, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach swirling in anticipation as you waited for your ceremony to start. 

“You okay, Hermosa?” Javi asked, his thumb gently stroking your hand that he had been holding since the moment he saw you, almost as if he was refusing to let go. You looked up at him, big brown puppy dog eyes staring down at you with a goofy grin that hadn’t left his face, the sight of his handsome, broad frame easing your racing heart enough to help you remember that when you walked down that aisle in a few short minutes, he was the only thing that mattered. 

“I’m perfect.” You smiled, pressing up on your toes just enough to peck his lips quickly before someone in the wedding party needed to barrate you both again about saving your kissing until after you were finally married. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this many people staring all at me at once. Knowing my luck, I’m gonna trip and fall over this dress before I can even make it to you. Or better yet, with my dumbass decision to have David and Charlie walk me down the aisle, I’ll be lucky if they don’t push me to the ground first.” 

“Well, even if you did fall, you would still be the most beautiful woman on the face of this Earth. My clumsy, grass-stained wife.” Javi snickered, giving you a little nudge as you rolled your eyes, giving him a playful shove back. 

“Pendejo. You have both of our vows books, right? You promise you haven’t peeked?” 

“Yup, both right here in my pocket.” Javi smiled, patting his tux by his chest. “Promise I haven’t read it. Although for my sake I probably should have, because if I can’t even make it through seeing you in your dress, then these vows are gonna make me a fuckin’ goner.” 

“Bold of you to assume I had nice things to say about you in there.” You teased, raising your eyebrow as you smirked at him, making Javi shake his head as he laughed. 

“Alright everyone, it’s 3:00, it’s time to get this show on the road! Make sure you’re in order like we practiced, that you take your time walking down to the music, girls, please do not throw petals at each other, and make sure you all- Javi, where are you? You’re supposed to be at the front of this line, sir.” Connie sassed, proving to you that she really was the perfect person for the task of making sure that things ran smoothly today, bossing the group around like the captain of a well organized ship. 

“Sorry, I’m coming,” Javi replied sheepishly. “I love you, Osita.” Sliding the hand that was entangled with yours around your waist, Javi pulled you in for a kiss, much more obviously than he probably should have, considering the shit the two of you were about to get being literal minutes away from getting married. 

“Javier! Get you A-S-S up here! Kiss her all you want once you say I do!” Connie shouted, rolling her eyes at the two of you, Javi pulling away in defense with his hands raised, trying to prove his innocence. 

“Oh, I know what that one spells, Mrs. Murphy! That one spells-” 

“Javi? Please?” Connie asked again, quickly trying her best to cut off your niece, Olivia, before she could finish the rest of her thought in front of everyone else, making the group giggle at her matter of factness. 

“Okay, okay, I’m here!” Javi pleaded, making his way to the front of the procession, taking his place next to his dad as Connie did one more check through of everyone’s spot in line before giving the music an all clear to start playing. 

As you stood at the end of the line, you peeked up to see Javi turned around staring back at you with that same stupid smile on his face, completely enamored and awestruck by you, already convincing you that you were going to turn into a puddle before you could even make it down the aisle. 

But as you went to re-adjust your bouquet in your grasp, you quickly realized there were not one, but two things missing from your procession line, now about to start walking down the aisle. 

Your brothers. 

Despite having seen them only seconds ago, as you quickly whipped your head around, they were now nowhere to be found. 

“Charlie? David? Where the fuck did you go?” You whisper shouted, frantically looking around for any sight of them.

Suddenly, you heard a rustling from one of the bushes around the corner from where you had been lined up and waiting, followed by the all too familiar voices of your brothers up to no good. 

“Just finish it you dingus, I already drank the first half!” 

“Why the fuck did we leave this out here? It’s fucking warm. You got the better half, that’s not fair!” 

“It was warm when I drank it too, dumbwad. Just finish it, we gotta fucking go, hurry up!” 

As you peered behind the bush, you saw your brothers wiping their mouth with the back of their hands as the tossed a can of Miller Lite to the ground, freezing in fear as they saw your menacing and disappointed glare staring back at them. 

“What the fuck do you two think you’re doing?!” 

“It was David’s idea!” Charlie responded, pointing at his brother. 

“Charlie didn’t say no!” David responded back, now pointing at him. “You didn’t expect us to get through this sober, did you? You’re the one who asked us to marry you, so I don’t know what to tell ya, Cubby. Plus, we wanted to pour one out for Patrick since he’s the luckiest bastard out of all of us and doesn’t have to worry about fucking up marrying his little sister.” 

“God, you two are idiots. Well that thing you agreed to do is happening as we speak so can we go do that, please?” You sighed, trying your best not to laugh at your brother’s antics, knowing that you really should have expected nothing less from the pair after you and Javi had asked them to officiate your wedding, considering neither of you had wanted anything religious, and wanted someone who knew you to be the ones to do it. 

“Okay, okay!” They replied, one rushing to each side of you and hooking their arm around yours as you made your way back to your spot at the end of the processional line that had now begun to move forward. 

“Where were you 3 dumbbells? The ceremony is starting!” Your dad gruffed, trying his best to restrain from slapping each of you upside the head. 

“Cubby wanted a beer.” David replied, shrugging his shoulders, keeping his head facing forward, trying his best not to laugh. 

“Honey, seriously?!” Your mom scolded, looking at you with disgust. 

“I did not! I was trying to find these two idiots!” You groaned, eying your brothers as they shook you back and forth between them in their grasp. “I hate you both, I hope you know that.” 

“We love you too, Cubby.” Charlie smirked, knowing that for as much as you said it, there wasn’t a bone in your body that could hate your brothers. For as dumb and annoying as they were, there would never be another moment you would take for granted with them, knowing all too well that life was much too short to do anything but cherish your time together, wishing you had more time to spend with the brother who couldn’t be here with you today. 

Before you could respond, your thought was interrupted by the voice of the DJ through the speakers set up outside, your heart steadily beginning to pound at the reality that everything you had been waiting for was all about to become real. 

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen if you could please find your seats, we’re about to get started with our ceremony! Thank you so much, folks!” As his voice echoed through the speakers, a hush began to fall over the crowd of your friends and family that had gathered here, now anxiously alongside you for the ceremony to begin. 

A few seconds passed before you could hear the music beginning to play, the familiar melody of “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac ringing through the speakers- an easily unanimous pick for a song to walk down the aisle to for you and Javi, remembering the first night you had spent together in your apartment, making midnight mac n’ cheese and already falling head over heels in love with each other. 

As the beat began to pick up, your heart started to race, peaking over the backs of everyone’s heads to watch all 5 of your flower girls begin to skip down the aisle, throwing petals every which way around them as they moved.

You couldn’t help but laugh as all their little personalities shone through as they made their way to the altar- Olivia Murphy, being the oldest, most definitely was taking her role the most seriously, holding her baby sister in one hand and carefully sprinkling flowers evenly in front of her. Your niece, Olivia, was second in line to live up to her role, although, being the little ham she was, threw in the occasional twirl in the middle of the aisle to get people to look at her, along with her little waves to the crowd. The rest of the girls, Brianna, Abby and Madison, well, you were just happy that they made it down the aisle, thankful that their older sisters were at least on the lookout enough to keep them from running through the rows of your guests or dumping the entire bucket of flowers on themselves (you had learned your lesson from your rehearsal dinner that Brianna needed about half as less flowers as the others).

Your face lit up watching the girls, your heart filling with joy with the “awhs” and laughter from the crowd at their theatrics as they met at the altar with an impressively semi-rehearsed curtsy, followed by promptly running out of the spotlight and over to Connie who was waiting for them. 

Now that the flower girls had finished making their way down, the processional line began to shift forward once again, this time, leaving Javi and his dad to walk down together, Javi insisting that even though his mom would have been the one to walk him down if she was here, that wanted Chucho to be there in her place instead. 

“Ready, Mijo?” Chucho grinned, giving Javi a little nudge. “Am I going to have to keep you from sprinting down the aisle, or do you think you can manage walking?” 

As the pair began walking down to the melodic beat of the song, Javi couldn’t help but laugh at his dad’s comment, because as much as he wanted to tease him right back, he knew damn well he was so excited that he would have run to the altar if it meant he got to marry you even a minute quicker. 

“Javier?” Chucho asked, looking up at his son with tears in his eyes as the pair moved down the parted pathway between the crowd of guests. 

“Yeah, Pops?” 

“Estoy orgulloso de ti, mijo. Tu mama y yo. (I am so proud of you, son. Me and your mother.) We are so happy that you have found your media naranja (other half). Nosotros te amamos. (We love you so much.)” 

As Javi and Chucho reached the end of the aisle, Javi wrapped his arms around his dad, pulling him close as Chucho patted him on the back, pulling away to look at his son, tears now in both of their eyes, thinking about how far they had come to end up where they were in this very moment, thanking whatever greater power that had finally brought them and Lucia the peace they all desperately deserved. 

Javier Pena knew he was worthy of the love and happiness that his parents had longed for. He had finally proved to himself and his parents he really was the good man that he had hoped to be. 

“I love you, Pops. Thank you for everything.” Javi whispered to his dad, trying to fight back any more tears from falling down his cheeks. 

“Te amo mucho, Javier. (I love you so much, Javier). Thank you for finally realizing that who you are is enough. Now, stop crying over your old man and save some tears for your wife.” Chucho laughed quietly, giving his son another pat on the back with a soft smile wrinkling his cheeks. 

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna have to worry about that.” Javi chuckled, shaking his head at the tearful mess he already was, giving his father one last hug before Chucho took his seat next to Connie and the flower girls at the front of the crowd. 

Steve was the next to make his way to the altar, Javi laughing at his friend’s goofy strut to greet him at the end of the aisle. Steve held out his hand to shake Javi’s before quickly pulling Javi in for another hug with pats to the back much harder than his fathers. 

“Listen, man. I ain’t good at this sentimental shit, but uh- I’m really fuckin’ happy for you, Javi. I know I give you shit, but you’re one of the good ones. She’s a lucky girl. And I hope you know you’re sure as hell one lucky son of a bitch. Love you, man.” 

“Love you too, Murph. Believe me, I know.” Javi grinned, giving Steve a slap on his shoulder laughing to himself as his friend sat down next to his wife and the girls, never imagining himself standing at the altar, happily waiting to get married while his former partner cheered him on, surrounded by his gaggle of giggly daughters. 

Feeling worlds away from Javi, your heart began to beat faster and faster, realizing that you were now only one pair away from making your trek down the aisle as your mom and dad walked down next, arm in arm. 

In classic mom fashion, your mother squeezed Javi so hard as she greeted him, that you were convinced that she was going to pop an eyeball out one of his sockets, thankful that your dad was there to reel her in enough to keep from suffocating him in her hug. 

“Javi. We love you so much. Thank you for making our daughter so happy. We’re so grateful she found you.” 

“Thank you. I love you both, too. Believe me, I’m just as grateful that she found me. Thanks for making me feel like a part of your family.” Javi replied to your mom, catching his breath through his smile after the death grip your mom had wrapped him in before looking over at your dad, extending his hand to meet his already outstretched one. 

“Jav, you’re a good man. I’m a guy of few words, but we couldn’t be happier for you both. Take care of her, okay?” 

“I will. I promise.” 

With a silent handshake and a nod, Javi and your dad had said all they’d needed to know that they couldn’t be more thankful for the love and support the other had brought you in the times that you had needed it most. 

As your parents made their way to their seats, standing at the opposite end of the aisle with your brothers at your side, the realization really hit you- You were the last one that needed to meet Javi. 

“You ready, Cubby?” Charlie asked, giving you a grin as he smiled down at you, interlocking your arm with his as David did the same on the other side. 

“Yeah, I’m ready. Hey, uh- I just, I just wanted to say, I-I love you guys.” 

“Gross.” David teased, scrunching his face in disgust, pretending to barf over his shoulder as you and Charlie laughed, shaking your head at your brother. “We love you too, dude.” 

With one final giggle and deep breath, you took your first step into view where everyone could see you, watching the guests rise to their feet in anticipation of your arrival, awestruck stares and smiles filling the crowd as you began to walk. 

Even though you had seen each other minutes ago, as you started to make your way down the aisle, smiling at Javi, the two of you couldn’t help but break into tears once again, laughing through your sobs that Javi broke before you did, trying to wipe his wet cheeks with the back of his hand while he watched you walk towards him. 

And even though every pair of eyes were on you, the only eyes you needed to see were Javi’s- The sweet, soft brown eyes that you had fallen so deeply in love with from the moment you had locked eyes with them all that time ago. They were the eyes of the first person who had ever truly seen you for who you were, inside and out, and you couldn’t be more thankful that when you looked at him, you saw your forever. When you looked at Javier Pena, you knew you were home. 

It almost felt as if time was standing still, that even in a crowd full of people, no one else existed besides the two of you. No one else mattered, and nothing else mattered- the only thing that mattered for you was Javi waiting for you at the end of the aisle, and you? You were going to finally be his wife. 

“You two are so in love, it’s fucking sick.” David whispered in your ear, helping to ease your tears as you burst into more laughter, rolling your eyes at your brother. 

“Oh shut up, asshole.” 

As you, David and Charlie finally made your way to Javi, waiting for you in a mess of happy smiles and loving tears, you had to use everything in you to keep from jumping onto him like a koala and kiss him all over his stupidly handsome face, resorting to reaching out to grab his hand instead, interlocking it with yours and giving it the tightest squeeze you could. 

“Hey, Mr. Peña. Long time, no see.” You whispered into Javi’s ear, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before took his other hand in yours, the two of you facing each other in front of your friends and family as David and Charlie took their place behind you, pulling out their notes that they had prepared, clearing their throats as they began to address the crowd. 

“Alright everyone, I uh- I guess we’re gettin’ this show on the road.” Speaking out into the crowd, Charlie began to flip to the right page of his script that you were relieved to see he had written out, your guests beginning to silence and bringing their attention to you and Javi. 

“Hi everyone, for those of you who don’t know us, we are the bride’s brothers, and we have the honor of our sister and our new brother-in-law being stupid enough to let us be in charge of marrying them today. Not to worry, 20 dollars and one course on the internet later, David and I are both legally ordained, so not to fear you two, this will all be legit, and hopefully not too embarrassing.” Charlie laughed, also eliciting giggles and eye rolls from you and Javi, as well as the crowd. 

“Well, we are gathered here today, because these two idiots have fallen so head over heels for each other, it's almost sickening. We’ve had the privilege of knowing our sister for the entirety of our lives. When we found out as kids that our mom was having another baby, and that it was going to be a girl, my brothers and I were disappointed, to say the least. We didn’t want a sister to ruin the bond that we had, and honestly, for a long time while my mom was pregnant, we went through a long baby boycott, and were convinced if we protested long enough, and hard enough, she would eventually turn into a boy, and everything would be fine.” David grimaced, shrugging his shoulders at you as you nodded in agreement, having heard this story from your brothers and parents plenty of times before. 

“And while at first, we weren’t really sure what to do with a sister, considering we didn’t even realize it was an option to pee sitting down until she came around,” Charlie snickered, making the crowd laugh again, aside from your mom, who was rolling her eyes so hard, they probably had made it to the back of her head, “Our sister ended up being one of the best things that could have ever happened to us.” 

Breaking your eye contact with Javi, you paused to look over at your brother, a genuine smile on his face, raising his eyebrows and shrugging as if to say I’m just as surprised that I’m saying this out loud as you. 

“Growing up with our sister has taught us a lot of things- Don’t challenge her to anything you don’t wanna lose at, because she’ll find a way to beat you, and thoroughly kick your ass while she does it, she’s got more brain cells that myself, Charlie, and our late brother Patrick did put together, she’s tougher than most guys I know, and she’s one of the biggest hearted people I’ve ever met.” Looking back at Javi, you could see his face beaming with joy, giving your hand a squeeze, agreeing with everything your brothers had to say, and how all of those traits had made him fall so madly in love with you. 

“So, like brothers do, we never assumed that there would never be anyone good enough, let alone even cool enough for our badass sister. And also like brothers do, we let her go through her fair share of duds and gave her shit, but when this guy came around,” Charlie smiled, pointing at Javi, “we knew that he was something special.” 

“Javi,” David joined in pointing, giving him a playful smirk, “Don’t think you were getting out of this so easy. When we first heard that our sister had made her way down to the middle of nowhere Texas and had started seeing you, our first reaction was instant disapproval, because if you lived in south Texas, you probably knew jackshit about hockey, and that was a no go for us.” 

“But,” Charlie interjected, “After talking to our sister more on the phone, not only was she starting to turn into the happy, energetic self we hadn’t seen in so long, we also learned after talking to her that you not only had been willing to watch hockey with her, but had began to openly express your disdain for the Detroit Red Wings, which made us change our opinions on you very quickly.” 

You and Javi looked at your brothers, rolling your eyes in laughter as they shrugged at you, the roar of cackles from the crowd making you grin, feeling the love from your brothers, friends and family swell in your chest, holding Javi’s hands even tighter, gazing up at him with an awestruck smile. 

“No in all seriousness, Jav. We couldn’t be happier that you not only have become a part of our sister’s life, but our family’s life, too. For those of you who don’t know, we um- we, uh-,” David gulped, taking a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears welling in his eyes, “our other brother, Patrick, um, passed away last year, and it uh, it was really hard on all of us, especially our sister. Javi, man, I don’t think you’ll ever understand how thankful we are that you love our sister so unconditionally. Better yet, that you love our family of idiots so unconditionally, because truth be told, we are not an easy bunch to love. While obviously, you can’t ever replace Patrick, I just, I hope you know that we’re so glad to have you as a brother, and that Patrick really would have loved you, man. He would be so happy that you’re the one our sister gets to spend the rest of her life with.” 

For what felt like the 117th time today, you found yourself in absolute tears, feeling the wetness streaming down your cheeks as you looked down at the #2 patch sewn on the bottom corner of your veil in a beautiful mixture of sadness and joy before looking up to see not a dry eye in front of you, both your brothers and Javi misty eyed and sniffling. Breaking his grasp from yours, Javi stepped towards your brothers, wrapping his arms around both of them to pull them into a long, tight hug, Charlie and David reciprocating as their arms patted his back. 

“Thank you guys.” Javi whispered, choking back his tears as he pulled away to look at your brothers, all of you wiping your wet faces with your hands to try and compose yourselves to carry on with the ceremony. 

“Damn, okay, well, sorry about that, folks, was not expecting that.” Charlie and David laughed, trying to shake off their unusually sappy sentiment, looking out at the crowd to see not a dry eye in the house. “Well um, well that’s enough of us yapping at you guys, why don’t we turn it over to the people you’re actually here for, and then you can cry even more because these two idiots decided to write their own vows, so good luck.” 

Staring up at Javi, you could feel your heart begin to race wildly, your hands nearly trembling as you reached out towards Javi to take the little notebook where you had written down your vows, feeling a little more at ease as you saw that Javi’s hands were just as shaky as yours, the two of you overflowing with anxious anticipation. 

It had been no question to either of you that you had wanted to write your own vows to one another. While it seemed to be that everyone else you knew had seemed to avoid writing their own vows because they weren’t sure what to say, or that it was too hard to think of things, you and Javi seemed to find yourselves having the opposite problem, feeling like there was too much to fit in a few short minutes, and that your vows were going to end up being the length of a college lecture. 

There had been a part of you that had worried you would be nervous to read what you had to say to Javi in front of all your friends and family, but as you stood there, smiling up at his beautiful, handsome face, you couldn’t be more excited to share all of the things you had written to tell your husband just how much you loved him.  

But as the two of you stood face to face, your vows in each of your hands, your stomach dropped in shock, realizing that neither of you was making the first move to start talking. Because for all the planning and preparing that you had done for everything else, the both of you had completely forgotten to pick who was going to read their vows first. 

“We never picked who was gonna go first.” You whispered to Javi, your voice filling with nerves every second you stood in front of your guests, neither one of you saying anything. 

“Oh fuck, you’re right. What do you wanna do? Do you wanna go? Do you want me to go?” Javi asked, his face mirroring yours in surprise, now frantically looking back and forth between you, his vows, and all of your guests. 

You weren’t sure if it was the teacher in you, or the fact that you were so flustered that you couldn’t think of anything else, but before you knew it, you were tucking your vows under your arm, holding one hand out in front of you flat and the other in a fist, signifying to Javi that your best solution to your current predicament was playing rock, paper, scissors. 

“Best 2 out of 3?” You shrugged, grimacing at Javi as you tried not to burst into laughter, Javi shaking his head and snickering, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that. Do you wanna go after ‘rock’ or say ‘shoot’, then go?” Javi asked, loud enough for your guests to catch on to what was happening, giggles and laughter coming from the crowd. 

“What kind of psychopath doesn’t say ‘shoot’ first? Javier Peña, are you telling me that we need to call off this wedding right now because you don’t say ‘shoot’ before playing rock, paper, scissors? Because I will.” 

Everyone around you was now in full blown hysterics, including Javi, giving you the sassiest look he could muster through his laughter, holding his hands out to mirror yours. 

“So ‘for better or for worse’ doesn’t apply to rock, paper, scissors, apparently?” He teased, smirking at you with a subtle wink as he bit down on his lip. 

“Not if you’re gonna play like that it won’t.”  

“Pendejo.” 

“You love me.” 

“I really fucking do.” 

Giggling as you gestured at your outstretched fist, you began to countdown from your “rock, paper, scissors, adding an extra emphasis on ‘shoot’ as you held out rock and Javi held out scissors. With another laugh, the two of you started again, this time, you with paper and Javi with rock, smirking as you crossed your arms over your chest at Javi, the rest of your guests laughing right along with you. 

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner, Javier Peña. You’re stuck going second.” 

“Go for it, you dork.” 

As the laughter from the crowd settled, you opened your vows book, taking a deep breath as you stared up at Javi, who, despite your silliness, still had tears beginning to well in his puppy dog brown eyes before you could even say your first word. You took one last gulp of confidence, wondering how in the world you were supposed to make it through even a sentence through your speech without falling apart. 

“I never used to believe in fate. People would always tell me that ‘some things are just meant to be!’ or ‘it was just fate it happened like that!’ and no matter how hard I tried to believe, fate just never made sense to me. Well, that was until about a year ago, when fate decided to bump right into me when I least expected it.” You could feel your voice already beginning to shake, huffing in a quick sniffle before continuing on. 

“As fate may have it, I quite literally bumped into you when you were forced to come give a presentation to a group of rowdy 8 and 9 year olds. Thank god fate also was on my side that day- that I actually looked halfway presentable and wasn’t covered in spilled chocolate milk, glue, or the snot of whatever kid had sneezed a little too close to me that morning.” That one had the better part of the crowd letting out a laugh alongside Javi, easing your stress and tension about your speech while you carried on, reading the notes jotted in your booklet. 

“When I first came to Laredo, I wasn’t really quite sure what I was looking for. After my brother died and decided I needed to be as far away from Chicago as possible, there wasn’t ever really a doubt in my mind that here was the only place I really wanted to be. I spent the better half of my middle school and high school vacations here, visiting my best friend who had moved away. To me, Laredo was always a place that brought me such peace and comfort. I’m not really sure why, but there was always something about being here for those few weeks every year that made it feel like home, even when home was halfway across the country. But what I didn’t realize, was that in my attempt to find a new home for myself, I began to learn that home wasn’t a physical location, or a place you could travel to. After meeting you, Javier Peña, I found out that home was wherever I was with you.” 

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up from your vows to see sweet Javi, covering his mouth, as if he was trying to trap his tears to keep from completely breaking down at your words, his reaction only making you cry harder, trying your best to re-compose yourself before speaking again. 

“I spent so long wondering if I would ever find someone who would ever make me feel the way that you do- to love me for all of my flaws, to make me feel important, and even laugh at all of my stupid jokes that probably don’t deserve to be laughed at, but you love me enough to do it anyways. Now that’s true love.” You smirked, raising your eyebrow at Javi, making the two of you snicker between your tears. “You make me feel like the only person in the world whenever I’m with you. The only person who knows me better than I know myself. You are truly one of the most thoughtful and caring people that I have ever met. And while I could list off a million adjectives to describe all of the reasons I fell in love with you- smart, brave, determined, handsome- just to name a few, out of all of those reasons, the one that made me fall for you the most was your big heart. And while I know you’ll never believe me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to get you to see the same amazing man I fall more and more in love with every single day.”

At this point, there was not a dry eye in the crowd, watching how emotional you and Javi were as you tried to choke your way through the rest of your vows. 

“I will never know what I did to deserve you in my life, but promise that I will spend the rest of it letting you know how forever thankful I will always be that out of all the people in the world you could have chosen to bump into, that it was me. I am so excited that the rest of my life, all of the moments, big, small, and everything in between, will all be moments spent with you. That every moment will be spent with my best friend. I never would have thought that a little bit of fate would have become my forever, but I’ll always be so grateful that it is. I love you so much, Javier Peña. Thanks for being the reason I finally believe in fate.” 

Wiping away the wetness streaming down your cheeks, you could barely even look at Javi, who was an absolute blubbering mess, laughing through your tears almost to keep you from completely melting into a puddle. 

Reaching out to grab him, you took Javi’s hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly as you took your other hand up to wipe the tears streaming down his cheeks, the both of you smiling as you looked into each other's eyes.

“And that’s why I wanted to go first. Good luck.” You chuckled, making Javi shake his head as he laughed along with you, taking another deep breath before flipping open his own vows, wondering how in the world he was ever going to make it through speaking, considering how easily he had fallen apart just listening to you. 

“Jesus Christ, well I don’t know how I’m really supposed to follow that.” Javi sighed, the crowd giggling at his remark as he opened up to his first page, staring at his words for a moment before looking back up at you, his deep, chocolate, puppy dog eyes melting you just as quickly as the first time that you locked eyes with him. 

“I’ve uh- I’ve never really been great speeches. When I sat down to write this, I wasn’t really sure where to start. I had no idea how I was supposed to fit all of the things that I wanted to say into all of this.” Javi huffed with a little shrug, gesturing to his notebook. 

“So I um- I figured if there’s anywhere I should start, it should probably be at the beginning. My mom was an elementary school teacher, so growing up, I spent a lot of time at Alma Pierce Elementary School. I swear, I knew that place like the back of my hand. But um, after my mom got sick and passed away, I really never thought I’d ever have a reason to back. Until one day last year, I was told to pack up my stuff to go give a presentation at a local elementary school, which turned out to be none other than Alma Pierce. My mom always used to say “La vida es graciosa, no lo crees?” (Life is funny, isn’t it?), and I never quite understood why. But as I walked back into the place where I had spent so much of my life just out of chance, I swear I could hear her laughing at me, saying “Te lo dije.” (I told you so).” 

You could hear everyone who had had the privilege of knowing Lucia letting out a soft laugh, thinking of all of the times they must have heard her say that all too familiar phrase throughout their time knowing her. 

“I had gotten to a point in my life that I had kind of just accepted that maybe this kind of life wasn’t in the cards for me. I wasn’t gonna get married or have a family, and as much as it hurt, I had learned to be okay with it. The last thing I would have thought would have happened to me after leaving the presentation I had to give that day was that I was already head over heels in love with the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my entire life, but la vida es graciosa, no le crees?” 

Giving you a little smirk, Javi could help but let a smile slowly spread between his cheeks as he looked at you, gazing up at him in complete and utter adoration, your goofy grin mirroring his. 

“Never in a million years would I have thought that I would have been standing here today, getting married to you. If you would have told me that I got to marry the most beautiful, amazing, kind, and stubbornly independent woman on the face of this earth, I would have laughed in your face. I honestly still feel like I need to pinch myself to prove that this is even real. But I guess that even if this is all a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up. Being loved by you has changed me in a way that I will never be able to thank you enough for. Being loved by you has made me a better man than I ever believed that I could be. A better man than I ever thought I deserved to be. A man who has learned to love and believe in love in ways I didn’t think I was capable of. I will never be able to thank you enough for letting me into your life and loving me for who I am, and for wanting to spend the rest of it with me.” 

Now, it was your turn to morph into an inconsolable mess, reaching out to grab Javi’s hand again, silently reassuring him that you were equally as grateful for the fact that Javi had let you into his life, too. 

“And no matter how tough, or challenging, or funny life gets, I know it can never really be that bad, because I’ll always have you by my side through it all. I think my mamá would be so proud to know I finally understand what she was trying to say all those years about life being so funny. Because it seems like life has a funny way of giving you everything you’ve ever wanted. Te amo, Osita. Gracias por ser mi todo. (I love you, Osita. Thank you for being my everything).” 

Without even thinking, you threw your arms around Javi’s shoulders wrapping him in a long, tight hug, sobbing into his jacket in a fit of happy tears, Javi hugging you right back, squeezing around your waist, gently cradling the back of your head in the warmth of your embrace. 

“Well shit… Alright, well I’m not sure if you guys are allowed to do that, but after those vows, I think we can let it slide.” David joked, trying to quickly wipe his eyes, nudging Charlie to do the same to try and pull themselves together to make sure they could finish out the rest of the ceremony. 

“Fuck, sorry.” Javi whispered, reluctantly pulling away from you, everyone in the crowd following your brothers’ suite, smiling as they brushed away the wetness welling in their own eyes from listening to your vows. 

“Well, I’d ask if anyone needs to object before we continue, but I think it’s pretty darn clear that these two idiots love each other more than life itself, so I’m just gonna skip that part.” Charlie joked, making you and Javi smirk in agreement. “Alright Miss Olivia, it’s your time to shine, do you have the rings?” He asked, your niece’s face lighting up in excitement as she nodded her head frantically, shooting up out of her seat to dash towards the two of you, carefully holding the ring box like a newborn baby bird in her hands. 

Daintily, she passed the box off to her dad before scampering over to both you and Javi, wrapping her arms around your waists to pull you close in a hug, smiling up at each of you with her toothy, goofy grin. 

“I love you Auntie Bear and Uncle Javi.” Olivia beamed, giggling in pure bliss and joy before skipping back to her seat among the guests, the both of your hearts bursting at the seams with the chores of “awhhhhs” coming from the crowd for your adorable niece. 

“Someone’s trying to get an extra slice of cake tonight huh, Miss Olivia?” David teased, your guests erupting with laughter at her not so innocent shrug to her Uncle’s question, knowing damn well she was just as much of a ham as you. “I trusted the six year old to carry these, can I trust you two not to drop them, or do you need to cry some more first?” 

“Oh shut up, David.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at your brother as you and Javi each took the rings to give one another, carefully holding the shiny gold bands in your hands, counting down the moments until you finally got to say “I do”. 

“Alright, ladies first, so I guess that means you, Cubby. You ready?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready for anything, you dingus, get this show on the road.” 

“Alright, here goes nothin’. This is the part I actually had to practice, so God forbid I mess this one up huh? Do you,” David giggled, saying your real name instead of the nicknames you had lovingly bestowed upon you for as long as you could remember, “Take Javi to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live?” 

“I do.” 

Carefully slipping the gold band onto Javi’s finger, you could feel your heart bursting in anticipation, biting down on your lip to try and contain your excitement, slowly pulling your hand away to let your brothers finish the second half of the exchange. 

“And do you, Javier Peña, take our sister,” Charlie and David snickered again, having to say your full name for a second time, “to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live?” 

“I do.” 

Gently grabbing your palm and gliding the glistening ring onto your finger, Javi rubbed his thumb over the pair of bands nestled together, forever making a home on your hand, his eyes welling at the sight of the sign that you would always be his. 

Intertwining your fingers together and hands clasped in front of you, you and Javi were radiating with joy, anxiously staring back and forth between each other and your brothers for them to finally say those magic words you had been waiting to hear since the moment you had met all that time ago. 

“Well ladies and gentleman… by the power vested in us, the internet and the state of Texas, it’s our honor to introduce to you the new Mr. and Mrs. Peña.” Charlie grinned at you, trying not to burst into laughter at the near panicked look on your faces, not having heard the next set of words you were more than dying to hear. 

“Well go on, you lovebirds, kiss already!” David snickered, shrugging at the pair of you with a grin on his face. 

Before he could barely finish his sentence, Javi’s hands were cupping your face, palms cradling your jaw as he brought his mouth to yours, fireworks exploding in your stomach at the electric intensity of his kiss, so soft and tender, yet so desperate and needy, like it was the first time his lips had ever met yours, and that he never, ever wanted to let them go. 

Your hands shot up to grab his face too, a smile creeping across your mouth with your lips still pressed to his as Javi dipped you down, sliding his hand down the small of your back to hold you before pulling you back up, his lips still locked on yours like glue. 

In that moment, it seemed like time stood still, that nothing else in the world existed besides the two of you- nothing else mattered besides the fact that you were here, kissing the man that you loved more than anything in the world. 

The man that you finally got to call your husband. 

Over the cheers, whistling, and hollering from your friends and family, the both of you were finally snapped back to reality as David gave you a little nudge and a look that screamed “gross, save it for the honeymoon.” 

Reluctantly breaking from your kiss, you grabbed Javi’s hand in yours, holding your fists in the air and cheering in excitement right alongside your guests before heading back up the aisle, your cheeks hurting from how hard they were smiling. So lost in your excitement, you turned your head as you felt Javi stop, tugging you back to the middle of the aisle, smirking as he pulled you close to his chest, whispering in your ear. 

“Not so fast, Mrs. Peña. C’mere.” Grabbing your face and wrapping his arm around your waist, Javi was kissing you again, swinging you down in another dip that had you erupting in giggles and your guests cheering even louder, Javi’s smooth moves soliciting a loud “OW OW” most definitely from Steve. 

“God, I love you.” You smirked as Javi pulled you back up to stand before the two of you were nearly skipping down the rest of the aisle in bliss, racing to the back of the crowd where you had entered the ceremony, turning the corner behind the house where no one could see you, not even bothering to look over your shoulder to see who’d followed you before your lips were crashing into each others again. 

This one was nowhere near as tame as the kisses you had just shared moments ago- this kiss was a tangled mess of tongues and teeth, Javi’s hands creeping dangerously close to the curve of your ass as you tugged at the lapels of his suit jacket, your mouths moving in a messy dance as you whispered muffled and muted words between your kisses. 

“Fuck, my beautiful wife. God, I’m so fucking lucky. I love you so much.” 

“I love you so much too, Javi, I’m so-” 

“Jesus Christ, it’s been 30 seconds and y’all can’t keep your hands to yourselves? C’mon, now. Y’all gotta whole week and a half to do this without having to subject the rest of us to it, Mr. and Mrs. Peña.” Steve laughed, making the both of you gasp as he slapped Javi on the back, immediately making your cheeks flush pink in embarrassment and Javi groan in annoyance at his best man’s timely (or untimely) disruption. 

“Steve, c’mon like you didn’t have your hands all over me after we got married.” Connie sighed, now smacking the back of her own husband’s head, making him wince in pain. “Congratulations, you two. We’re so happy for you.” 

“Thanks, Connie.” You and Javi smiled, Javi still keeping his hand wrapped around your waist as the rest of your wedding party started making their way back up the aisle to greet you, too.

“Also having gotten married before, you’re gonna thank me later as I make you go find your brothers to sign your marriage license somewhere that has a little peace and quiet before you get none the rest of the night. Why don’t you guys head inside and I’ll cover for you for a little, okay?” 

“You’re the best, Connie, thanks.” Javi grinned, pulling you away towards the house, quietly sneaking in through the front door to wait for your brothers, Javi looking both ways around the seemingly empty house before pulling you close again. 

“Javi, Charlie and David are gonna be in here any minute, and they’re gonna give us just as much shit as Steve, if not more.” You giggled, gazing up into Javi’s eyes, still awestruck and giddy. 

“I know. Just one more kiss, mi esposa (my wife).” Javi smirked, tilting his head down to press his lips to yours, his thumb tracing soft circles on your cheek as the rest of his fingers cradled your jaw, tilting your eyes up towards him. “Fuck, you’re finally my wife. I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.” 

“Good thing we have the rest of our lives to get used to it, huh?” 

People weren’t kidding when they said that your wedding would be a blur- From the moment the ceremony ended, it felt like everything was moving in fast and slow motion at the same time, being pulled in every direction to talk with family members, take pictures, and make sure that things were running smoothly. As much as you and Javi were both trying to soak in every moment of your special day together, it was safe to say the two of you were feeling a little overwhelmed by the time you had gotten to dinner, and couldn’t have been more thankful to have a moment to finally sit down. 

More importantly, you were so glad that you had gotten to the point where you had a drink, some delicious food in your stomach, and the best part of the night ahead of you- dancing. 

The sun was beginning to set on the horizon of the Peña ranch as dinner was coming to a close, the clanging of forks and knives against dinner plates slowly shifting to chatter and conversation that was filling the space of the white tent that had been propped up in the backyard for your reception. 

You weren’t really sure what to expect when you had decided on a backyard wedding, but with the absolutely stunning work your mom, Connie, sister in law, and Javi’s aunt’s had put together for you, they had made a white tent feel like something out of a fairytale. String lights and greenery were strung across above you, long tables decorated in candles and beautiful garlands of eucalypts, sprinkled white and pink roses from Lucia’s garden, along with cute, colorful vintage cups that the women had collected or thrifted for your guests to use. Everything about your setup felt magical, and with the sun sinking and fading into dusk, the glow and twinkles of the lights illuminating your space only made it feel that much more incredible. 

As the two of you sat at your head table, bellies full and hearts happy, feeling a little tipsy from the extra strong margaritas Javi’s cousin seemed to be making, you were a little worried as what looked like a more than just tipsy Steve approached you, slapping a stack of index cards in front of you. 

“Listen… I’m like the perfect level of drunk to give this best man speech. Any less drunk and I’ll be too fuckin’ nervous to do it, and any more drunk I’m not gonna be able to remember what I’m supposed to say. Y’all good to keep this movin’ so you can do your first dance and then we can get this party started?” 

“Jesus Christ, Murph…” Javi sighed, laughing at his friend, now sassily crossing his arms over his chest at Javi. “This speech better be good.” 

“It’s good, and Connie approved, so you know I won’t say any dumb shit. Well, not if we don’t start soon and I keep drinking more.” Steve paused, letting out a low burp, rubbing his stomach and grimacing at the two of you, snorting at him. 

“Take it away, Shakespeare.” You smiled, gesturing your arm out to the dance floor in front of the guests sitting at their tables, chatting away. You couldn’t help but laugh as Steve confidently made his way to the front of the crowd, Connie silently mouthing “I’m so sorry”  from across the room, pointing at her husband, now ready to take the stage. 

“Hey y’all,” Steve started, bellowing his voice loud enough to catch everyone’s attention, making them pause their chit chat and focus their attention on him. “I’m Steve Murphy. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Javi’s best man. Normally it’s customary for a guy like me to come up and say a few words about the bride and groom, so lucky for y’all, I’m your guy tonight. You’re welcome, Jav.” 

The crowd laughed as Javi sighed, rolling his eyes at Steve and shaking in his head in fear of what was to come, sliding your hand over to rest on his thigh, giving your now husband a little squeeze of reassurance to have some faith in his friend. 

“I have had the pleasure of knowing Javi for a long time now. It’s been, what, 17 years now, Jav?” Steve asked, turning back to look for confirmation. 

“It’s been too long.” Javi replied, shaking his head, his witty response only making your friends and family laugh more. 

“Whatever, you grumpy old bastard. Anyways, I first met Javi when I found out that I would be his partner down in Colombia working for the DEA. Not gonna lie, when I first met him, while I’ve never admitted this until now, I was pretty intimidated by the guy. He was cool, smart, respected, even though his jeans were way too fuckin’ tight.” Steve teased, winking at Javi, making you snicker from the few pictures you had seen from back in the day when Javi was in Colombia, knowing exactly what Steve meant. 

“I’ll spare you all the details of our time down there, but through all of our trials and tribulations, despite our differences and disagreements, the one thing I always admired about Javi is that he really cared about what he did. No matter what, he always cared about trying to do the right thing for the people he cared most about. Now, believe me, if you would have asked me all those years ago if I would have ever pictured Javi here today, gettin’ married, buildin’ a house and talkin’ about startin’ a family? Well shit, I prolly woulda told you that you were bat shit crazy. But, if there’s anyone in the world who deserves every ounce of all that domestic, lovely dovey bliss, it’s this man right here.” Steve smiled softly, pointing back to Javi who couldn’t help but let his heart fill with warmth at the sentiment from his friend, your hand rubbing up and down Javi’s leg, his grasping over yours to hold it tight. 

“Javi, I know you’ll never believe me when I tell you this, but I’m real proud of ya, man. And I hope you know how goddamn lucky you are that this beautiful woman has agreed to spend the rest of her life with your grumpy ass. Speaking of which…” Steve smirked, turing back to look at you with a goofy grin, making you raise an eyebrow at whatever stupid comment was bound to come out of his mouth. 

“Mrs. Peña. I never thought I’d live to see the day Javi was so in love. When he called me a few weeks after the two of you first met, and was all jazzed and excited to tell me about this beautiful girl he had started datin’ and how happy he was, I just about damn near fell down. He never said it on that phone call, but I knew that this sorry shit was absolutely head over heels in love with you.” 

That comment had you giggling at Javi’s blushing face, his cheeks turning pink at Steve’s story, even though he knew damn well it was the truth. 

“I couldn’t think of anyone who would be more perfect for Javi if I tried. When I first met you and saw how sickeningly cute y’all were together, God’s honest truth, my first question I asked Javi was when he was plannin’ on buyin’ a ring. Glad to see that sometimes he’ll take my advice. Sweetheart, I can’t thank you enough for being so good to my best friend right there. I hope he knows how lucky he is to have someone like you.” 

Grabbing your hand, Javi interlocked his fingers with your underneath the table, softly smiling at you and gently nodding his head in agreement. 

“I also need to thank you that he’s finally got someone else to worry about him instead of me. One less thing off my back. No offense, Jav. Alright, well, y’all have probably heard enough of me yappin’, and y’all are anything like me, you’re ready for more drinkin’ and dancin’. To Mr. and Mrs. Peña-” Steve paused, grabbing the nearest drink he could find and raising it up in the air, prompting the rest of your guests to do the same. “Wishin’ you two lovebirds a lifetime of happiness. I love you guys. Cheers!” 

Over the applause and cheerful shouting, Steve rushed his way back over to the two of you, slotting himself in between your seats so his head poked out between yours, wrapping his arms around both your shoulders and pulling you in for a hug. 

“Nice work, Murph.” Javi smiled, patting Steve on the back, laughing to himself at how genuinely thoughtful Steve’s speech had turned out to be. 

“Thanks, Steve. Your speech was really great. How much did Connie have to edit out?” You snickered, looking back between him and Javi. 

“... Let’s just say I left out the part about y’all horny bastards needin’ to be better about lockin’ your doors when other people are around.” Steve chuckled, shaking both of you in his grap, You and Javi’s eyes sheepishly darting to the ground in embarrassment. 

“Fuck off, Murph.” 

“Love you too, Jav.” 

With one last pat on the back for each of you, before you could say anything else, Steve was already halfway across the tent back to the bar to congratulate himself for getting through his speech without any major slip ups or major scoldings from Connie after he returned back to his table. 

“Thank God for Connie.” You grimaced, laughing at Javi whose face was buried in his palm, shaking his head at his friend, wondering why he would expect any less from him. “...He’s not wrong, though.” 

“I’m triple checking that I lock all the doors later so I don’t give him any more reasons to be right…” Javi sighed, giving you a little nudge while the hand that had been holding yours suddenly let go, resting on your thigh over your dress, giving it a long squeeze, making your heart race in anticipation, his eyes locking with yours, telling you everything you needed to know.  

Some way, some how, Javi was going to find a way to fuck you before the night was done. 

“Javi…” You whispered, heat creeping through your cheeks, trying your best to keep from blushing as you locked eyes with him, his devilish grin and lust pooling in the dark brown of his eyes entrancing you in a way that had butterflies swirling in your core and ache rapidly beginning to grow between your legs. 

“Si, Mi esposa?” (Yes, my wife?), Javi smirked back, running his hand further up your thigh and closer to your core as his other hand came up to cup your face, thumb tracing back and forth across your skin, toying just enough to tug at the corner of your lip. 

While you had gotten a little bit of alone time with Javi today, the way that the both of you had been absolutely insatiable for each other after seeing each other in your wedding attire, let alone the fact that you were now actually married? You and Javi were both dying to try and find a second to yourselves without interruption, especially from Steve. 

So caught up in awe of each other, you and Javi hadn’t even noticed your DJ, standing next to your table, quietly clearing his throat to try and get your attention. 

“Hey, uh- Mr. and Mrs. Peña?” He interjected, loud enough to finally snap you and Javi out of the horny stare down you had entered, “Are um- are you two ready for the first dance?” 

“Oh, um- yeah, y-yeah, sorry about that.” Javi grumbled, the two of you quickly trying to snap out of the thick heat of sexual tension that had been growing between you, both readjusting yourselves in your seats as you looked up sheepishly at the DJ,  “Sorry, what did you say?” 

“I asked if you two were ready to do your first dance? If you um, if you need some more time I can-” 

“No, we’re okay, thanks.” You grimaced, trying to keep from giggling and blushing as you looked over at Javi and then back at your DJ. “You ready to dance, Mr. Peña?” 

“Never been more ready, Mrs. Peña.” Javi replied, grabbing your hand as the two of you stood up, out of your seats walking to the edge of the dance floor while your DJ headed back to his booth. 

“Hello everyone! We’re going to get ready to start our first dance with the newlyweds, so if you could please direct your attention to the dance floor, we’re about to get started!” 

Before you could even take a step out onto the floor, the cheering and clinking of knives against glasses was erupting amongst the crowd, Javi happily taking the opportunity to grab you by the waist and pull you in for a long, deep kiss, making you giggle against his lips still pressed to yours as he dipped you down, before pulling you back against his chest. 

“Show off.” You snickered, raising an eyebrow at him as he finally pulled away from your kiss, staring down at you with a goofy grin. 

“Better get used to it, Mrs. Peña. I’ve got the whole rest of our lives to keep showing you off.” Javi smirked, shooting you a wink before tugging you out into the center of the dance floor, patiently waiting for your song to start as you draped one arm around his neck, Javi snaked his hand around your waist, and the pair of your other hands joined clasped at your side. 

It was then that the melodic violin entrance to “At Last” by Etta James began to play, Javi smiling down softly at your agreed upon choice for your first dance song after lots of debate and discussion the past few months. 

At last 

My love has come along

My lonely days are over

And life is like a song

As the music began to play, you and Javi began to sway back and forth to the syrupy symphony of the song, your heart bursting and stomach filling with the same butterflies it had the first time you had met Javi all those months ago. 

“I’m glad we picked this one.” Javi smiled, the two of you circling your way around the dance floor, eyes locked on each other.  

“Me too. It always makes me think of making breakfast with you on the weekend and all the little moments I love with you.” You grinned back, letting go of Javi’s hand to drape both arms over his shoulder and around his neck. 

“It makes me think of spilling that entire bowl of pancake batter all over Bear and then having to chase him around the house to get him in the tub.” Javi sighed, rolling his eyes as he laughed to himself, tightening his grip around your waist to pull you closer. 

I found a dream that I could speak to

A dream that I can call my own 

I found a thrill to press my cheek to

A thrill that I have never known 

“Me too. God, who would have thought that a year ago we’d be having our first dance at our wedding talking about spilling pancake batter all over our dog.” You giggled, leaning to rest your head against Javi’s chest. 

“I did.” 

Looking up at Javi, you could feel your cheeks warming, staring at his big brown eyes welling with tears, trying your best to now hold back the wetness pooling under your lashes. 

“Osita, I swear, from the moment I saw you smile at me, I knew that you were the only woman in the world I ever wanted. I knew you were the one I wanted my forever with. I’ll never get over the fact that I’m the luckiest man alive. I love you so fucking much.” Javi choked back, letting one of his hands slide up your face, gently cupping your cheek as he tilted his head in for a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away for another one on your forehead. 

You smiled, you smiled 

Oh and then the spell was cast

And here we are in Heaven 

As the song began to slow, the sweet melody winding down to its close, Javi lifted up his arm to let you twirl beneath him before spinning you back into his chest and wrapping his arm around your waist to catch you as he dipped you down again, your mouths meeting in a long, tender kiss, electricity sparking between your lips and butterflies swirling in your stomach. 

For you are mine 

At last 

“I love you too, Javier Peña.” 

Over the applause of your guests, you could hear an obnoxiously loud “OW OW” from the crowd, coming from a now even more intoxicated Steve, making you and Javi laugh at his reaction, swiftly followed by Connie’s sharp jab to his ribs to get him to settle down. 

“Alright ladies and gents,” The DJ spoke over the rumble of voices at the dinner tables, “Let’s have one more big round of applause for our newlyweds!” 

As the crowd began to clap again, and Steve, threatened by another blow to his side, cheering at an appropriate volume, the DJ spoke again with the announcement you had been patiently waiting for since the ceremony finished. 

“Alright everyone, with our first dance done, it’s time for the best part of the night, the dance floor is officially open! Let’s party!” 

As the blaring intro to “Jump Around” began to blast to your speakers, your friends and family rushed to the dance floor, you let out a squeal of surprise as Javi snatched you up around your middle, lifting you up to spin you around in a fit of giggles. 

“Vamos a bilar, mi esposa.”  (Let’s dance, wife) 

The rest of the night was the best kind of celebration that you could have asked for- the joy of being surrounded by your friends and family, dancing the night away to your favorite songs, and drinking one too many margaritas with your husband was everything you could have asked for and more on your wedding night. 

It was no shock to you that your family had no problem making absolute fools of themselves out on the dance floor, happily (and drunkenly) flailing along to every single song, although your brothers’ and Steve’s enthusiastic sing-along to “Baby Got Back” was impressive, to say the least. 

And while you and Javi had expected your family to act a fool, what neither of you had expected was how excited Chucho was to bust out dance moves of his own, taking everyone by surprise as he joined all your co-workers and Javi’s co-workers (who had quickly become best friends on the dance floor), to shake his way through “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls, leaving you in hysterics, and Javi in stunned embarrassment at his dad’s antics. 

As the evening began to creep later and later into the hours of the night, a very sleepy Olivia approached you and Javi on the dance floor, gently tugging at your dress and his pants for attention with puppy dog eyes plastered on her face that almost gave Javi’s a run for his money. 

“Auntie Bear and Uncle Javi, can I pick a song? Pleaseeeeeee?” Olivia begged, pouting her bottom lip at the two of you, absolutely melting your hearts in an instant. 

“Of course, mi amor.” Javi smiled, caving immediately as he crouched down to her level, her face lighting up in delight at her uncle’s response, coming close to whisper in his ear. 

If you couldn’t have already been more in love with your husband, watching him listen intently to what your niece had to say, nodding in agreement before scoping her up to rest on his hip, you were practically in a puddle now. 

“Me and Miss Olivia are gonna go make a song request.” 

“But Auntie Bear, you have to let me dance with Uncle Javi first, okay?” Olivia quickly added, very adamantly. 

“Of course, lil Miss. Have fun, you two.” You smirked as Javi and Olivia made their way over to the DJ, watching Olivia’s face light up instantly as the DJ agreed to her request, Javi carrying Olivia out to the middle of the dance floor and setting her down on the ground as the end of the song slowly began to fade into your niece’s song choice. 

With her love for the movie, you shouldn’t have been surprised at all that her pick was “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” from the Lion King Soundtrack, but even though you weren’t shocked at her choice, there was nothing that going to be able to prepare you for the gut wrenching cuteness that was your now husband, dancing with your niece. 

It had already gotten to the point in the night that Javi’s suit jacket and tie were long gone, 3 buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and the once neat curls of his dark hair now messily sweeping his forehead from your night of dancing, and if the sight of just how goddamn handsome Javi looked, on top of the fact he was now officially your husband, paired with the sight of him slow dancing to the Lion King with Olivia? 

Your ovaries were just about shot to hell. 

As the song played and Javi and Oliva spun around the dance floor in a fit of smiles and giggles, you couldn’t help but wish with every bone in your body that it was your daughter that Javi was dancing with, nearly falling to your knees the thought of making him a dad, on top of being your husband. And if that wasn’t enough, the two of you were finally married, and that meant half of your bargain to start trying for kids was complete- and with the other half being your house finally finishing with construction which was almost close to being done as well, you were so close to start trying for a baby of your own, you could almost taste it. 

And that? That drove you crazy enough to feel like you were going to combust. 

So stuck in your daydream, you didn’t even notice Olivia running up to you, now tugging at your dress again, letting out a little sleepy yawn as she tried to get your attention. 

“Okay Auntie Bear, you can dance with Uncle Javi now. Thanks for letting me pick a song.” Olivia smiled as you sunk down to meet her, wrapping her in a hug. 

“Of course, Olivia. Thank you for being the best flower girl today. I love you, cutie patootie. Alright, I’m gonna go dance with Uncle Javi now, okay?” 

“I love you too, Auntie Bear. I think Uncle Javi misses you, he wouldn’t stop looking at you the whole time we were dancing. I think he wants to kiss you again, but that’s gross. Yuck.” Oliva grimaced, making you giggle as she stuck out her tongue before watching her scamper away back to her sisters and the Murphy girls to dance some more. 

As you turned back, bracing yourself to stand back up, you were greeted with Javi’s large palm held out in front of you, pulling you up to greet his handsome grin while you looked up at him. 

“I’ve been told I have permission to come dance with you now.” 

“It did take some persuading, I told her I’d save an extra piece of cake for her if she let me go dance with you.” Javi chuckled, pulling you back out onto the dance floor, slowly swaying back and forth to the beat. 

“Watching you two out there is dangerous.” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at Javi as he cocked his head in confusion. 

“What do you mean, hermosa?” 

“I mean,” You paused, standing up a little bit taller, throwing one arm over Javi’s shoulder, running your hand through the hairs at the nape of his neck to whisper in his ear, “Watching the two of you made me think about how much I wanna make you a dad. And now that we’re married and the house is almost done, we actually get to start trying soon.” 

It took everything in Javi not to let out an audible moan, letting out a gulp and scrunching his eyes shut for a moment to try and maintain his composure at what you had just said to him, his grip around your waist immediately tightening and eyes darkening as he opened them, staring down at you, absolutely awestruck. 

“Fuck me.” He muttered to himself, almost shaking his head in disbelief that after all of the time you had spent talking about wanting kids and nights you’ve had wishing there hadn’t been any birth control to keep you from having them were now an almost tangible reality, “Is that what you want, mi esposa? My wife wants me to give her a baby?” 

Javi’s voice rasped in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, your stomach flipping in arousal at the hot breath of his words against your skin, knowing what had started as a sweet and simple moment of Javi dancing with Olivia had quickly shifted into a desperate want, no, need, for him to give you what you were asking for. 

As the music slowly faded into the next song, bodies shuffling and dancing to the more upbeat tune that had followed Olivia’s choice, the both of your figures stood frozen on the dance floor in a silent exchange of racing hearts and yearning glances before Javi took your hand in his. 

“Follow me.” 

In an instant, Javi was tugging you across the dance floor, the two of you dodging and weaving your way through your guests with polite smiles and happy waves, doing everything you could to try and sneak away as discreetly as possible in hopes that everyone would be too preoccupied (or too drunk) to realize that you were gone. 

But at this point, you really didn’t care whether anyone noticed if you were gone or not. Truth be told, the only thing you cared about was finally getting to fuck your husband. 

Finally making it through the worst of the maze of people, you and Javi had made your way to the back porch, quietly peeking your heads through the door, checking to make sure the coast was clear before hastily slipping inside, gently shutting the door behind you before sneaking down the hall to Javi’s room, thanking whatever higher power had let the two of you get to his bedroom in peace. 

From the moment Javi had shut the door behind him, you were all over each other in an instant, hands roaming across each other’s bodies as you stumbled until the back of your legs hit the mattress, flopping down onto the bed, Javi’s body caging yours in his frame. Your lips crashed together in a hungry clash, tongues, teeth and moans melting together between your mouths as Javi hiked up the skirt of your dress, running his hands along your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh in his firm grasp before his fingers crept towards your aching core, ghosting over the white, lacy fabric covering your cunt, already soaking with arousal. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet, hermosa. My wife’s pretty little pussy all wet for me, huh?” Javi rasped, the pads of his fingers pressing more pressure over your covered clit, making you whimper in delight. 

“It’s all yours, Javi. Yours forever, baby.” You moaned, your breath hitching in the back of your throat as Javi’s fingers dipped under the waistband of your underwear, collecting the slick pooling around your folds before plunging his two fingers inside your heat and thumbing at your sensitive bundle of nerves, pure bliss running through your veins at his touch. 

Your response had Javi practically growling, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he looked down to see the golden and diamond bands glistening on your finger, awestruck at the beautifully blissed out mess you were already becoming as his fingers curled, prodding at the spongy spot inside you that he knew drove you wild. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, Osita. My beautiful wife. Fuck- I can’t believe your mine. I love you so fucking much.” Javi groaned, his words muffled between the hot, wet kisses he kept planting on your lips, feeling your cunt beginning to clench around his digits. 

“I l-love- fuck- I love you too, Javi.” You whimpered, the all too familiar tingle at the base of your spine beginning to build as Javi’s fingers pulsed in and out of your heat and thumb circled your throbbing clit, knowing with how worked up you were and how good he felt, it wouldn’t take much more before you were coming undone around his hand. 

“I know you’re close, baby. Let go, hermosa. Cum for me so I can fuck my wife and show her how much I love her.” 

“F-Fuckfuckfuck Javi. Don’t stop, baby, don’t s-sto-ahhhhhhhhh.” 

With his thumb circling faster and harder around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and fingers plunging in and out of your weeping hole, it wasn’t long before you could feel that all too familiar tingle spreading throughout your body, your orgasm flooding through every inch of you as you came around his fingers, soaking his hand. 

“That’s it, Osita. That’s my good girl. My good wife.” Javi groaned, making you whimper as he withdrew his fingers from your dripping heat, admiring the slick and shiny mess you had made around his fingers, entranced by the way your arousal had coated his wedding band as he brought his hand to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean before beginning to work at his belt. “You taste so fucking sweet, baby.” 

You sat back up, looking over your heaving chest to see Javi shuffling his pants and boxers down his thighs, leaving them to pool around his ankles, revealing his cock, already so painfully hard and weeping with precum from his tip. Reaching down to run his fingers through your folds again, he collected your slick on his hand before rubbing it up and down his length, stroking himself to line up with your entrance. 

“F-fuck, let me feel you baby, p-please.” You whined, reaching up to grab fistfuls of Javi’s shirt, tugging him down to kiss you and lay his body on top of yours. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi moaned, slowly filling you up with his cock inch by inch until he had bottomed out against your cervix, letting you adjust to the fullness as he relished in the wet and warmth of your pussy gripping around him like a vice. 

“M-move, Javi, please, baby.” The sweet sting and stretch of Javi’s length inside you already wanting to make your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

Javi began to languidly thrust himself in and out of your heat, dragging his cock almost painfully slowly against your velvety walls, cursing under his breath at the feeling of his balls beginning to tighten in his stomach, knowing there was no way he was going to be able to last as long as he would have wanted to in the moment. 

“Javiiiii” You whined, your arms wrapping around back, nails pressing into his shoulders as his cock hit the spot inside you that lit you ablaze. His hand snaked between your bodies, reaching down to rub your clit, still slow, taking his time with each graze of his fingertips as his pace held deep and steady. Every thrust in and out of his hips had you wrecked as he filled you so fully and intensely, moaning his name over and over while he grasped the meat of your thighs, pressing your knees against your chest to stretch you open even further.  

“God you’re so beautiful. My beautiful fucking wife. Gonna be such a beautiful mom for our kids.” Javi grunted, this thrusts becoming faster and sloppier as he let the reality of his marriage and actual attempts to start trying for a family burn a hole in the forefront of his mind, igniting something even feral within him, knowing he was one step closer to finally giving you and him what you both wanted more than anything. 

For Javi to get you pregnant.

The last sentence made your breath hitch in the back of your throat, whimpering at the notion that because you were finally married, there wasn’t much stopping you from tossing out your birth control tomorrow and trying to get pregnant by the end of the month. 

“J-Javi-” You whined, trying to form any sort of coherent thought as your brain short circuited from the pure bliss and heart racing thoughts running through your brain. 

“What, Osita?”  

“I-I want you- oh shit- to fuck a baby into me, Javi. I wanna throw out the rest of my birth control- I don’t care if the house- Jesus- isn’t finished. I wanna stop taking it tomorrow. I w-want you to- fuck- fill me up and get me pregnant.” 

You could practically feel the weight of Javi’s jaw dropping to the floor, eyes bulging out of his skull, and heart beating out of his chest, so shocked, he stopped himself mid thrust, just to make sure he had heard you correctly. 

“Osita- baby, are you- holy fuck- baby, are you serious?” 

You nodded your head frantically, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him in for an electric kiss before leaning back to whisper in his ear, your voice sultry and low. 

“I need my husband to fuck a baby into me. Please. Fuck a baby into me, Javi.” 

If Javi didn’t have his arms already braced on the bed, there’s no way in hell he wouldn’t have fallen over in pure delight at your request, his stomach now churning with the wildest mix of excitement, lust and pride, spreading up through his chest and across his face, the brown of his eyes darkening and awestruck smile widening. 

“You want me to fuck a baby into you, Hermosa?” Javi asked, almost rhetorically, a devilish grin spreading between his cheeks as he began to pound into you again, not even giving you a chance to respond, knowing damn well what your answer was.  

If his thrusts weren’t already frantically rushed and sloppy, they most definitely were now, Javi practically on the brink of his own high just from the thought of getting to fuck you, knowing there was a real, true chance of getting you pregnant, trying to fight with everything in him to keep from busting right then, needing to make sure that you came again before he did. 

The lewd noises of your moans, wetness of Javi’s cock sliding in and out of you, and his hips snapping against yours coated the walls of the room, the both of you having no regard for anyone who may have been close enough to hear you, so caught up in the moment, that at this point, you couldn’t have cared less if anyone caught the both of you. 

“Answer me, baby. Mierda- You want me to fuck a baby into you, huh? Want me to fucking fill you up and get you pregnant? Show everyone you’re mine with our baby growing inside you?” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, pounding into your g-spot with blinding force, frantically circling your clit as he felt your cunt begin to clench tighter and tighter around his cock, knowing you just needed a little bit more before he had you coming undone. 

“Y-yes- fuckfuckfuck- I need you to, Javi, p-please baby, please, please, pleaaahhhhhhh-” 

Just like that, you could feel yourself gushing around Javi’s cock as you came, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, crashing through every inch of your body, euphoria flooding through your veins, screaming his name while he fucked you through your high, desperately chasing his own. 

“I’ll give it to you baby, I- fuck me- I’ll give you everything you want. I’ll give you as many babies as you want. I’ll give you a family, I’ll give you my heart, my soul, my everything, my- oh fuck!” 

Javi’s hips stuttered, forcing a low groan to rumble in his throat as he came, the hot ropes of his spend coating your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop inside you, still pulsing and thrusting inside you, ensuring that nothing went to waste. 

Slumping his body on top of yours, your chests rose and fell in sync, trying your best to catch your breaths as you came down from your highs, your mouths meeting in a sloppy kiss to try and ground  you back to reality. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered through your labored pants, laughing to yourself from the pure bliss of what had just happened, staring up at Javi with a radiant grin, brushing the sweat-dampened curls from his forehead. 

Javi hissed as he carefully pulled out, leaning back enough to see the smile on your face, gently cupping your cheek as he looked down at you with a goofy grin of his own. 

“Osita… Were you being- baby, were you serious about what you said?” 

“Jav, I don’t think I’ve ever been more serious about anything in my entire life. Is-is that okay with you?” You asked, biting down on your lip. 

“Is that okay with me?” He asked, almost mockingly, chucking to himself as he shook his head in disbelief, “We can really throw it away tomorrow?” 

“Yup.” 

“And you won’t bring it with you on the honeymoon?” 

“Nope.” You replied, popping the “p” at the end of the word. 

“And there’s- holy fuck- there’s a chance you could actually get pregnant soon?” Javi asked, his face glowing brighter and brighter with each question he asked. 

“Mmmhhmmm. Well, I mean, it might not happen right away but- Ahhhh Javi!” You giggled as your husband aggressively peppered ticklish kisses across your entire face, making you squeal and squirm in delight. 

“Fuck, I love you so much. Thank you.” Javi smiled, tears welling in his eyes as he looked down at you. 

“Jav, baby, don’t cry! Why are you crying, you dork?” 

“You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted. You married me, we’re gonna have a family, it’s just- fuck, I promise, that I wanna spend the rest of my life until the day I die showing you how thankful I am that you chose me. That you gave me all the things I stopped thinking I deserved. I love you so much, it fucking hurts, Osita. Thank you for choosing me.” 

Sitting up, you threw your arms around Javi, pulling him close to you in the tightest hug you could muster, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the weight of his body melt into yours, your bodies intertangled as one. 

“Javi, you’re the only one it ever could be. Te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden expresar. (I love you more than words can say).” 

“Hey! Lovebirds! Are y’all in here?” 

Over the music and chatter of the party outside, you and Javi had been completely oblivious to the all too familiar southern twang of Steve’s voice behind the bedroom door, gently knocking from the outside after being sent on a mission to find where in the world the two of you had been for nearly a half hour. 

“Hello? Mr. and Mrs. Peña?” Steve rapped again, getting nothing in response but silence. Steve shrugged, drunk enough to have no fear to pound on the door repeatedly until the two of you showed up, now reaching down at the doorknob and giving it a jiggle. 

Steve was shocked to find that he could turn the handle, writing off the fact that they two of you would be in a room with an unlocked door after the 10 pounds of shit he had given Javi, and with his inhibitions severely lowered, he had  no problem cranking the knob and pushing the bedroom door wide open. 

“Hello? Earth to Javi and Mrs. Peña, are y’all in here or not because I- Oh Jesus Christ!” Steve shrieked, opening up the door to see you and Javi, your dress still hoisted up to your waist, and Javi’s bare ass completely on display, making the both of you scream just as loud in surprise at your unwanted visitor. 

“Murphy! Get the fuck out!” Javi snarled, quickly scrambling to try and pull your dress back down and his pants back up. 

“Jesus Fuckin’ Christ!” Steve yelled, immediately bringing his hand to his face to cover up his eyes, trying to drunkenly stumble as quickly as he could back out of the room, but, because of his intoxicated state and self-imposed lack of vision, Steve found himself colliding head first with the wall, knocking himself to the ground before crawling across the floor like a frazzled toddler, kicking the door closed behind him. 

For as devastatingly embarrassed as you were by the whole debacle, you couldn’t help but cackle at the impeccable comedic timing of the whole thing, snickering to yourself as Javi finished buckling back up his pants and helping you up to stand before storming to the door, opening it to find Steve still sprawled on the floor in an a hysteric fit. 

“Are you fucking serious, Murph?” Javi growled, completely unamused. 

“God, I shoulda kept my bit that Connie cut in my speech. Y’all do know that doors have locks, right? Might be helpful if y’all learned how to use ‘em. Just food for thought.” Steve giggled, watching both of your faces grow beet red in embarrassment and at a loss for words. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Javi asked, pinching the arch of his nose between his fingers, shaking his head in frustration, looking down the hallway to make sure that Steve was the only presence you needed to worry about. 

“I’m tryin’ to save your asses before someone else worse than me walks in on the two of you gettin’ it on. Y’all do realize you’ve been gone for almost 45 minutes right? Being the- oh shit-” Steve paused, letting out a giant burp,” ‘cuse me, being the good Best Man I am, I decided to try and find you two idiots before people started askin’ too many questions. So, you’re welcome.” Steve grunted, pushing himself up to stand, cocking his head at the both of, hands on his hips, trying to prove his point. “Also, do you two anything else besides fuc-” 

“Steve! Jesus Christ, will you shut the fuck up!” Javi groaned, staring down at the floor, taking a deep breath to compose himself before he decided to kick Steve right back down to the ground again. 

“...It’s really been 45 minutes?” You grimaced, looking back between Steve and Javi, shrugging at your husband that any longer, your mom would have been on a search party for you, and it would have been your whole family at Javi’s bedroom door instead of just Steve. 

“Yeah, and I’m the first to come lookin’ after ya, so again, you’re welcome. Jesus, Javi, you can really last for 45 fuckin minutes? How the-” 

“Murphy!” 

“Sorry…” 

“Fuck me….” 

“Think you and your wife already took care of that one…” Steve muttered under his breath, trying not to laugh.

“I swear to God, Steve…” 

“Okay, I’m done! I’m done! Swear!” Steve held up his hands in defense, taking a step back away from Javi.   

“Will you please just give us a minute, Murph?” Javi sighed, running his hand through his hair, trying with every bone in his body to keep his patience with his drunken friend. 

“Fine, fine, fine. 1 minute. I’m counting. Use your time wisely and appropriately, you sickos.” Steve snickered, disappearing down the hallway, only to peek his head back out around the corner. “And Jav?”

“What, Murph?” 

“Your fly’s undone.”

As you and Javi sheepishly made your way back out to the backyard, you couldn't have been more relieved to see that at this point, anyone still left at your reception was far too drunk to care that you had been missing, seeing that almost all of your guests were out on the dance floor, partying away without a care in the world, or any inkling of what you and Javi had been up to. 

“Longer than a minute, but beggars can’t be choosers I guess.” Steve chuckled, creeping up behind you with two drinks in hand, passing them both off to you and Javi. “Here. Figured I owe ya a drink. These are on me.” 

“We paid for the bar, Murph.” 

“Alright, well I guess these ones are on you, Grumpy Pants.”  Steve grumbled mockingly, holding up his hands in defense, trying not to stumble over his own two feet as he made his way back to the dance floor. 

“Remind me again why I picked him to be my best man?” Javi laughed, taking a sip of his drink, the both of you snickering as you watched Steve whip out some questionable dance moves to “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen blaring in the background and Connie shake her head at her husband. 

“Because you love him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s an idiot, but he’s a good guy.” You smiled, giving Javi a little nudge, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked out at the dance floor. “Hey-” You paused, holding up your glass and raising it to Javi’s. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers to what, Osita?” Javi asked, wrapping his arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he brought his glass next to yours. 

“Cheers to us. I love you so much, Javier Peña, it makes me sick. Sicker than all this tequila is gonna make me tomorrow after I keep drinking it the rest of the night.” 

The two of you snorted, goofily clinking your glasses and taking a hefty sip of your drinks as you looked out on the dance floor, your hearts overflowing with love and joy to know that you were surrounded by all of the people in the world you cared about most, even the ones that couldn’t be physically with you, to celebrate the biggest day of your life and the start of your new forever. 

“Cheers, Hermosa. I love you so goddamn much. Maybe the hangover will help distract the nerves on the flight tomorrow.” Javi smirked, taking another sip of his drink as he shook you playfully in his grasp, your faces both lighting up as you remembered that tomorrow, you be in the Bahamas for the next 10 days, where the only thing you needed to worry about was where you wanted to lay on the beach, what drink you wanted in your hand, and now, seeing how quickly Javi could get you pregnant. 

“Oh shut up.” You sighed, giving Javi a little slap to the chest before taking another sip of your drink, looking up at Javi with heavy lashes, batting your eyes at him. “You just have to remind me that I have to do some unpacking before we leave tomorrow.” 

“Unpacking?” Javi asked, tilting his head in confusion at you, the gears in his brain turning as you bit down on your lip, raising your eyebrow at him, waiting for him to piece together your clue. “Oh. Oh.” 

Javi’s eyes went wide as he remembered what you meant, heart racing in anticipation, never imagining before today that he would have been so excited to actively throw away birth control to try and have a kid.

“Can we throw it away tonight?” Javi pleaded, his puppy dog eyes in full effect. 

“I’m not sure what difference tonight and tomorrow morning is gonna make, but sure. Happy wedding present.” You giggled, pressing up onto your tiptoes to plant a long, hot kiss. 

“Best fucking gift I could ask for besides the fact I finally get to call you my wife.” 

As the end of the song slowly faded out, “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” began to play next in the background, your face lighting up in excitement and Javi’s eyes rolling, hearing the song that had been most likely the biggest controversy of your entire wedding planning process now bumping through the speakers, followed by the cheers and hollers of your guests. 

“I told you people would want to hear this song.” You said smugly, crossing your arms over your chest, popping your hip at Javi as you sassed him, making him shake his head at your theatrics. 

“It doesn’t stop it from being a stupidly annoying song.” 

“A stupidly annoying song that people love. A stupidly annoying song that your wife loves.” You teased. “Whaddya say, Peña, can you stand this unbearably stupid song to go dance with me? 

“I’d dance to this song with you a million times if it means I get to dance with you.” 

Grabbing Javi by the hand, you tugged him out to the dance floor in a fit of giggles and smiles, jumping along and dancing to the beat song after song the rest of the night with your friends, family and husband. 

You couldn't help but catch yourself stopping now and again to smile to yourself to take everything in, feeling like you needed to pinch yourself to make sure this was all really real. Just over a year ago, your life felt like it had hit an all time low. You had moved halfway across the country to try and run from your pain, desperate to find any way to bring yourself any ounce of peace in your ocean of hurt. It felt like fate had forsaken you for the worst, kicking you while you were down, and leaving destruction in its wake. 

But never in a million years would you have believed that fate would have sent you with a one way ticket to Laredo, Texas, and that trip would bring so much more than just the glimmer of hope you longed for. It had brought you peace, comfort, the acceptance you weren’t sure you would have ever allowed yourself to feel. Laredo had brought you everything you never expected, and all of the things you never thought you deserved. 

It brought you Javi- the man who single handedly changed your life for the better, loving you unconditionally for every part of your being and piecing back together the parts of your heart you had left broken.

It brought you the man you now got to call your husband. 

Fate and life have funny ways of working together to bring you the things you need the most when you least expect them. And today, as you got to marry the love of your life and your very best friend, you knew you’d be forever thankful that fate stepped in when you needed it most. 

La vida es graciosa, no lo crees? (Life is funny, isn’t it?)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadresa @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @amyispxnk @samgirl4life @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3 @survivingandenduring

[eureka-its-zico]

Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 2

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention. 

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 6k+

A/N: For this chapter, I played with the idea of having Zoro’s POV. It felt necessary for the story progression that I had in mind. This chapter was a tad fun to write, and I hope that translated well into the story. Originally it was going to be longer, but I realized I wanted to save the dinner to go with all the action to end the Episode 3-4 story arc. Thank you guys so much for the love you’ve given this little story. I hope it continues to be one you enjoy 🖤 Much Love, Jenn

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This place is a maze. 

That thought rang true with every hallway you entered and the endless number of rooms within. With every step you took inside Kaya’s large estate, those words kept echoing through your head. How many guest suites could one house possibly hold? But also, why would you ever need so many?

You’d been wandering the halls for what felt like an eternity. Your head poked into each room after a brief knock. Yes, a brief knock before plunging head-first into someone’s private space wasn’t much of a warning but at least you were knocking. 

And all of this just to find Zoro who may or may not help you expose whatever metaphorical skeletons this butler had stuffed in his metaphorical closet. Or an actual closet. The possibilities felt endless. 

You weren’t even sure how you were going to explain to him exactly why you were searching for him without sounding like a creep. You would just have to cross that bridge when you came to it. 

You were about to give up trying to locate him because you were pretty sure you’d just passed that same exact clock for the second time in a row. You let out a raspberry as you placed your hands on your hips. Was it plausible you were lost? Inside a ginormous house like this? Yes, it sure as shit was. Maybe you should’ve been dropping breadcrumbs to find your way back to your own room when this was over. 

Rolling your tongue around your mouth, you looked down to your right and realized there were only two more doors left. What could it hurt just to look? You were already down here anyway. 

With a shrug, you moved towards the second to last door near the end of the hall. You weren’t in a rush to check what was behind either one, but you were also not leaving any stone unturned and all that. If your earlier dozen room checks were any indication of what to expect, you were willing to bet that you were going to find absolutely nothing waiting for you. The joy of joys. 

You were just a few feet from the door when you heard the lock click. The sound caused you to stop dead center, facing the door like an absolutely terrified rabbit caught in the headlights. What were the chances that whoever opened that door was going to be Zoro? And what were the chances that he would be willing to listen to what you had to say? 

The possibility of your questions being answered ebbed the panic in your chest down just a tad. Enough that when the door finally opened and Zoro was, in fact, standing before you, you silently thanked the universe for your suddenly award-winning luck. 

That was until you realized he was just standing there. In a robe. A silk robe with his swords slung over his shoulder and because of his current hold on his swords, said robe in question was flashing a peak of his chest. You immediately wanted to take back your previous thank you letter to the universe. 

This should be illegal. 

The worst part? You were pretty positive from the way Zoro was staring at you - his eyes taking you in from top to bottom lord HELP you - he did not seem as impressed with you as you were of him. Why in the hell couldn’t you say a word? Yes, he was attractive - stupidly so - but he was also just another guy. 

A guy in a thin silk robe and hair still damp from a bath. 

You watched as Zoro’s body began to relax, or relax as much as someone like him could. It was when he let out a sigh as if your very presence was keeping him from something important, that you felt your feet remove themselves from their spot in the carpet and spring you forward. 

There was a split second when Zoro’s eyes registered your movement. His eyebrows raised up in surprise as the almond shape of his eyes widened just a tad before he braced for whatever you were about to do. Zoro was planning on an attack and his body was primed to force you back. Instead of violence, he was met with your hands shoving him back inside his room with your foot kicking the door swiftly closed behind you. 

Once you knew you were both securely back inside the room, you stopped shoving him. You waited for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the room before you looked around. It would be embarrassing if you’d done this and someone else - Nami or Luffy or anyone else really - had been inside with him. The only thing you noticed, however, was his previous clothes strewn across the room. 

When your eyes ventured back to Zoro you found his earlier shock replaced by what you could only guess was his usual stonewall expression. 

“Look,” he began the timber of his voice causing you to jump. “You seem nice and all, if not a little disturbed, but I’m not interested.” 

You looked up at him with your confusion knitting your brow together. 

“Not interested?”

You weren’t sure why it took you that long to realize what he meant, but it was dawning on you at warp speed and your confusion was quickly replaced with horror. 

“Oh my god! No, no! I was not trying to like, do anything to you like that.”

The disbelief in his eyes told you plainly he didn’t believe you, and by the tick in his jaw something was bothering him about your statement. 

Shit! He thinks I’m a perv 

You wanted to crawl under the nearest rock and die there. You followed his eyes as they trailed down his chest to find your hands were very much still attached to him, practically groping him. 

“Then why are your hands still on my chest?”

A small squeak of surprise left you as you dropped your hands down to your sides and shook them like it would be enough to get rid of the feeling of cupping his very pronounced…chest. You took a step back from him in hopes that giving him space would save the entire interaction. 

“Sorry about all the ugh…touching,” you mumbled. “But I did come here to speak to you about something.” 

“This is going to be good. Is it to convince me you weren’t trying to grope me?”

“God, you aren’t going to let it go, are you?” 

Closing your eyes you took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. When you finished, you opened your eyes again and gave him the best smile you could muster. 

“Okay, let’s start this again. I,” you motioned towards yourself, “have come to ask you if you noticed anything weird.” 

Zoro cocked an eyebrow at you. His arms moved to lock his arms across his chest somehow exposing the peek of flesh from the robe even more. 

“You mean weirder than right now?”

You purse your lips together tightly as you try to exhale all the annoyance from gathering in your body. 

“Let’s just move on from this moment, ok,” you began. “I came to talk to you about the butler.”

Without warning, Zoro rolled his eyes and dropped his arms from his chest. His swords clanging against his leg reminding you that he wasn’t making any move to set them down anytime soon. 

“Here we go again about the butler,” he groaned, and the very sound shouldn’t have sounded as enticing as it did.

Focus! 

“Oh, save it!” You snapped. “I saw you, okay? The way you looked at Klahadore before you followed your friends inside. You looked at him like you recognized him. Like you’d seen him before somewhere.” 

Zoro regarded you coolly. The hardness that had disappeared while he’d teased you earlier slid back into place until he was as unreadable as stone. 

“I’ve never seen that butler before in my entire life.” 

“Why are you lying?” 

You couldn’t keep the exasperation from your voice or how your desperation was starting to creep back in. Could you have been wrong about Zoro this whole time? Did you just see what you wanted to see?

No. You know what you saw and you were not going to be called crazy. You took a step towards him and weren’t surprised when he didn’t move back. Instead, he tilted his chin, his full pouty lips still very much pouting, as his eyes carefully watched you. 

“You know, that I know, that you looked at that guy and went, ‘hmph, something’s not right there’.” 

Yeah, that felt like a solid argument. 

You waited under Zoro’s cool gaze for him to reply. For him to show any sign of anything, really. He was literally the most unmoving person you’d ever meet, and you were starting to wonder if he was even real. The shitty part about waiting in silence, besides the uneasy commentary your brain was beginning to make, was the smell of the vanilla and sandalwood that wafted off him in mini waves that assaulted your senses. 

You were so intently transfixed by trying to match his unblinking gaze that when he finally moved his head down to be eye level with you, you’d almost jumped out of your skin. 

“Is everything okay with you? Do you suffer from any brain damage?” 

You wish you could say you handled the next few seconds with grace and poise. Things that all upstanding future doctors did when faced with adversity. However, that was most definitely not you, and you weren’t able to keep an exacerbated yell of frustration from cairning past your lips. 

“Oh! You are literally the most infuriating man I have ever met!”

“And you are the most perverted woman I have ever met,” Zoro shot back, this time taking a step towards you. 

If he was trying to intimidate you, he should’ve tried back when you weren’t ready to tear him limb from limb. 

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Who just pushes a semi-naked man into a room so they can grope him?”

“I wasn’t trying to grope you! I was trying to interrogate you for information!”

God, that sounded so much worse. 

“That sounds a lot worse, actually.”

Of course, Zoro would state the obvious, and was he - was he smirking? Your eyes rapidly blinked as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing because as fast as you’d noticed it, that devilish smirk had disappeared. Now Zoro once again looked as serious as before. You began to move back towards the door with your hands up in mock surrender. 

“You know what - fine! If you don’t want to help me, that’s your choice, but you know I’m right. And I’m going to prove that something is wrong here with or without your help.”

You shot one last look in his direction before turning on your heel and giving him your back. You were at the door, your hand on the doorknob when Zoro surprised you with a question of his own. 

“Why ask me to help you?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you expected to see that smug smirk on his face or to get the cold shoulder. What you found instead were eyes so intent on you - waiting for your response - that it caused your lungs to collapse. A million replies played over through your mind, but only one of them mattered. 

“Because out of everyone here, I thought you would believe me the most.” 

It didn’t matter if it was the answer he’d been looking for or the one you thought would win him over. You meant what you said and you hoped he’d felt your admission genuinely. If Usopp didn’t want to believe you, and if Zoro, who you still believed knew or at least felt something was off here, wasn’t going to be able to help you, you would just have to do it yourself. 

Did you know what that entailed? Hell no, but Naan didn’t raise a quitter, and you weren’t going to roll over and just give up just because it was hard. Not when someone’s very life depended on you. 

——————

After your incredible failure of finding a co-conspirator to help you on your quest for answers failed with flying colors, you weren’t exactly sure what to do with yourself. Usopp no doubt must have snuck in by now to see Kaya - sans your “gift” - and the others were probably in the ridiculous closet looking for dinner attire. While you could’ve gone just to socialize with everyone else, Kaya had sent a dress to your room. 

Sham had looked absolutely miserable dropping it off and that was a joy all on its own. 

You considered heading to the closet just to see Luffy again. Luffy radiated optimism like sunshine; at the moment, that sort of unyielding optimism was the mood booster you needed. 

Unfortunately, you knew Zoro must have made his way there by now and you weren’t necessarily ready to face him again. The disappointment was clinging to you and that’s what you hated the most. You didn’t understand why you’d seemingly put all your eggs inside the Zoro basket. Just because he’d looked at Klahadore weird didn't mean he’d sensed something off. 

Shit, Klahadore was weird and deserved every side-eye glance he got. 

All it meant for you was going back to the drawing board for a new plan. One that was going to be able to get you next to Kaya. At least long enough so you could perform some kind of assessment. 

You rounded the corner to what you hoped was the hallway your room was down. The earlier thought you’d had about getting lost turned into an accurate one. You’d spent just as much time trying to get back to your room to get ready for dinner as you had searching for Zoro. 

Zoro.

Even just thinking about him made your jaw clench with fresh irritation. What was more infuriating than your most recent conversation was the fact you could still feel the strength of him in the hollows of your palms. The sharpness of his jaw and the high sculpt of his cheeks- 

No! Absolutely not, you chastised yourself. 

It was maddening how little he believed you - mocked you - and yet, here you were acting like some lovestruck teenager. He wasn’t that handsome. 

You were lost in your thoughts to the point you weren’t aware of your body's attempt to warn you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and a sickening feeling began to rot in your gut and made sure all the imaginary - very imaginary - butterflies disappeared. 

The goosebumps that rose along your exposed skin informed you that the grand hallway, filled with all its riches and fine cherry woods was as ice cold as the dead. Has it always been this cold and you just never noticed? Or the eerie silence that made the manor feel more haunted than alive. 

Your feet involuntarily came to a halt in the middle of the hall. You couldn’t explain the panic that was building in your chest, but it felt like you were being watched. Your heart rate sped up until you could practically feel it thundering against your ribs. 

“You are being silly,” you whispered to yourself. “It’s just an old house.” 

“Old houses do have their quirks, don’t they?”

You wish you could say that when Klahadore spoke from behind you, you’d reacted with grace. With dignity. What actually happened was you screamed sharp enough it could raise the dead. 

The whiplash you gave yourself as you turned to face him was dizzying. You wanted to kill the fear that widened your eyes and pressed your brow into your hairline. Your mouth was painfully dry as you took in his presence and the absolute shit-eating grin he wore. 

He enjoyed seeing you afraid. 

“Oh dear, Doc, did I give you a fright?”

Klahadore gently tipped the frame of his glasses with the edge of his palm. You wanted to smack them off his smug face. 

“What do you want, Klahadore?”

You struggled to regain your composure. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you afraid. It was what he wanted after all and didn’t take much to notice. He was already trying to close the few inches your retreat had given you. 

“I was simply wondering why you were wandering around the manor. You’ve been showing highly suspicious behavior ever since you and your friends arrived.” 

Your eyes narrowed in on him and as you held your head high. 

“Have you been following me?”

“Oh, come now, don't be silly. To have someone followed means you’re worried about what they’ll find, and you? You are the last thing I would be worried about.” 

Klahadore dropped his head down until he was eye level with you, but somehow used his size to remain imposing. A thinly veiled threat to remind you exactly what he thought of you; nothing. 

The first time you’d ever received an insult from Klahadore had been just like this. Alone and away from anywhere Kaya could hear him. He’d made sure that Usopp and you were together just so he wouldn’t have to repeat the insult twice. 

“I know you two must feel exceedingly special having Miss Kaya ask for you to come keep her company, but I’m afraid this will be the last time you ever come over unannounced or not. We can’t allow her image to be tarnished from being seen with unwanted children.” “Unwanted?” Usopp had been so confused - he knew he was wanted; wanted by Kaya and you. Klahadore saw in that confusion an opportunity to place doubt in his mind and completely tear him apart.  “Yes - unwanted. So unwanted that your father never returned, and your mother chose death as a final way to be rid of you.” “You son of a bitch!” You’d snarled and snapped. You were only kids.  The world had taught you early on about hardships and fairness; how the world and the people in it could lack kindness. But Naan always made you look for the good in the world, and in the people who sometimes allowed the ugliness of others to warp them into someone they weren’t.  It was a concept child you never understood. Teenage you were barely beginning to grasp it, but when Klahadore spoke those words so full of hate and venom at your best friend: there weren’t enough flames left in hell to cover up your rage.

The memory of that day left a black mark on your soul and you find it replaying at the most inconvenient of times. A harsh reminder of the first time you’d ever considered murder as a means of healing. The world would have to be a better place if someone like Klahadore wasn’t in it. Right? 

Naan, as always, talked you down from doing something rash. From allowing someone like Klahadore to have the last laugh and ruin all the plans you had for your life. 

But Naan wasn’t here to talk you off that ledge or to remind you who she knew you were. Your rage shouldn’t define you. Looking at Klahadore’s retreating back, you weren’t all too sure if it wasn’t you because if he ever showed up needing any form of medical attention, you weren’t so sure if he’d leave on his own two feet. 

A body bag would suit him nicely. 

You watched him until he completely disappeared leaving you alone once more inside the hallway. It felt weird to take those first steps back towards your room. To go inside and see the dress Kaya had sent to your room and know you were going to put it on and share dinner with that man standing in the same room. 

There had to be a way to show everyone here exactly who Klahadore was, and you would spend the whole dinner trying to do just that. 

———————

He’d been searching for a drink since his interaction with you back in his room. Zoro wanted to call you crazy - hell you acted crazy enough, but you’d done something he hadn’t expected. 

You’d surprised him.

He didn’t want to admit it then but he did get a weird vibe from the butler. The minute his eyes landed on Klahadore it had sparked a nagging feeling of a memory he just couldn’t quite place. 

And you’d noticed. 

After you’d left his room, he couldn’t shake the conversation you’d forced him to be a part of. Teasing you had been easy. He’d expected you to be a bleeding heart, but as you’d turned to leave, stomping your feet and spitting back words that stung for just a second, it had been Zoro’s turn to notice something about you. 

It was the fire of your determination that piqued his interest.  

While Zoro wasn’t sure why you held such a stick up your ass exactly about the butler, he was positive you had a reason. Besides the fact he couldn’t seem to pull up a clear memory of why the same butler piqued his own interest, and that was beginning to piss him off. 

What was even more annoying was the fact you’d brought it up enough that he’d asked Nami and Luffy if the butler seemed familiar. He didn’t know why he’d asked. If it had been more for him or for you. 

That pissed him off more. 

You seemed to be good at that. Pissing him off and getting under his skin. 

When he came downstairs, Zoro expected you to be there already. A quick glance around the room informed him you weren’t there, but a row of flutes filled with what he hoped was alcohol most certainly was. 

He carefully set down his strap of swords and moved closer to the drinks. No one else made a move towards them and, for a split second, Zoro was worried maybe the flutes were nonalcoholic. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the delicate crystal and quickly brought it to his lips. 

The smell of the liquor hit him first and his muscles relaxed instantaneously. 

God. This was exactly what he needed. 

“Zoro! You gotta try this!”

Zoro didn’t bother looking because he’d seen the appetizers being served when he came down the stairs. He wasn’t impressed. Plus, if he was going to make it through this evening, he was going to need way more booze than what was inside these little Crystal flutes. 

“I got all I need right here,” he replied and brought the glass up to his lips. 

The first sip erased all the tension that had been binding up his muscles. The next pull from the glass relaxed him completely, and he downed what was left in one giant gulp. He placed the now-empty flute back down on the tray and swiftly grabbed another. 

Zoro was vaguely aware of all the chatting going on around him. The sound of Usopp and Luffy sharing stories and Nami doing whatever it was Nami did during fancy dinner parties. He meant what he said - he did have everything he needed to make it through this dinner inside these glasses. At least, that’s what he thought until the sound of a heel echoing off the step brought his attention to the top of the stairs. 

He was sure the new flute with his latest drink was at his lips. Zoro inhaled the sharp scent of liqueur with every breath he took. He just couldn’t seem to make his elbow bend enough to drop it from his face. 

You were making your way down the staircase, oblivious to the world around you as you came down with a hand carefully placed on the railing. 

The dress you wore was covered in article flowers; all of their small bold colors were bright against the backdrop of black chiffon. The top of the dress left your shoulders exposed, and the style you’d chosen to wear your hair, with beads of pearls intricately placed within each strand, made you seem ethereal. 

You looked like moonlight inside a garden; soft and wild and for the first time Zoro forgot that breathing was important. 

Once you reached the last step, your eyes finally moved up from the safety of your feet. Zoro was vaguely aware the rim of the glass was still resting on his bottom lip, and that he’d yet to take a drink. He felt frozen - helpless - until your eyes found his rooted frame - helplessly waiting - and the smile that curved your lips brightened up the room. 

It was in this second that he realized he was fucked, and the annoyance of that realization was enough for him to finally upend the glass in one large gulp. 

——————

Zoro had looked at you for less than a millisecond before he’d upended the contents of his glass in one large gulp. His disinterest was evident enough throughout his entire body. With one last glance in your direction, he turned back to the waiting tray of glasses. 

Well, that wasn’t the reaction you’d expected. 

The disappointment scraped raw across your chest as you watched Zoro take up another glass. His gaze was steadfast at the wall as he downed whatever was inside. What felt more disappointing was the fact you’d cared. 

For all intents and purposes, Zoro was an asshole. So, it begged the ever-present question: Why did it bother you so much? 

Yes, you’d painstakingly gotten ready around the dress Kaya left inside your suite. Was it your usual taste? You weren’t all that sure, to be honest. It’s not like you’d ever been invited to any fancy dinner parties before. You weren’t sure if this was the proper form of dress or if you’d gone overboard with your hair. 

At least Nami had a feather inside her hair and it looked as if she’d given her blood-orange hair some curls. She looked absolutely gorgeous and you made it your mission to tell her.

“Wow, Doc you look-“ Usopp began. 

You turned beaming towards your friend as you waited for him to acknowledge your hard work. Maybe at least Usopp, of all people, would say something nice. 

“Different.”

You could practically feel your smile deflate at the edges. 

“What did you put in your hair?” Luffy asked around a mouthful of meat. 

“Oh yeah, I was wondering what looked different. It’s the hair,” Usopp confirmed with Luffy. 

The both of them smiled and nodded at one another as if they just solved world hunger. Your tongue rolled around your cheek as you debated on what to say. Maybe you’d expected to much out of a bunch of men. 

“They’re pearls,” you huffed. 

“That’s silly,” Luffy chuckled. “Why would you ever put pearls in your hair?”

“It’s to look nice.”

“I never knew hair needed accessories,” Usopp offered before taking a bit of his appetizer.

“Nami put a feather in her hair,” Luffy offered before taking another bite. “Maybe you guys can talk about putting random stuff in your hair.” 

There was no way this conversation could be real, and yet…

Luffy was still wearing his genuine smile while he and Usopp continued to enjoy the appetizers Sham passed around. This evening was turning out to be the last time you’d ever consider wearing anything like this again. What was even worse was that out of the three of them, Zoro was the only one properly dressed. 

While Usopp went with his usual no shirt underneath his jacket, Luffy was wearing just a petty coat and miraculously found dress slacks that didn’t even reach his ankle. They looked like their usual selves, just dressed in black. 

But Zoro…

No! Absolutely not.

“I’ll go look for Nami so we can discuss…putting things in our hair.”

“That’s great! I’m sure it will make her happy. She seemed frustrated earlier when she asked for help.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you mumbled, as you turned to find Nami speaking to Merry. 

Well, it looked like that was going to be a bust too. Man, she really did look very pretty, though. You were considering what your options were. You weren’t comfortable just injecting yourself into whatever conversation Nami and Merry were having, especially not when she was rubbing his arm like that. 

Luckily for you, the sound of Klahadore announcing Kaya’s entrance kept you from having to go with your final option, which was to get a drink. Next to Zoro. 

You all collectively turned to watch as Klahadore helped Kaya make her way down the stairs. You couldn’t help but smile up at her and her current choice of attire. While she’d made you look like a garden, you could only assume she was the sunshine that hovered above it. The only problem you had with the golden silk material was that it somehow made her sickly pale skin appear paler. 

She must have picked the color in hopes it wouldn’t do that, but all it did was raise the alarm bells in the back of your mind. You’d allowed a pretty dress and a fancy meal to cloud the real reason you’d come in the first place. Instead of being a doctor, you were playing dress-up. 

You were still scolding yourself when Kaya finally made it to the end of the staircase. Her smile was bright and happier than it had been in a long time, as she regarded Nami and the dress she’d chosen. It hadn’t even registered that any of the clothes you currently were wearing belonged to her deceased parents. You made a mental note to make sure to take extra special care not to ruin the dress with any droplets of food. 

“Oh, Doc, I’m so glad I picked this,” Kaya breathed. “You look absolutely magical.” 

You couldn’t help but look down at the dress again. It was an incredibly delicate dress. A work of art to be worn on the body. Maybe that was why you felt like such an imposter wearing it. 

When you looked back at her, you tried to give Kaya a convincing smile. One you could even make yourself believe you felt worthy to have it on. 

“Oh, Kaya you are too nice,” you replied, only for her to shoot you down with a wave of her hand. 

“Nonsense. Usopp is always telling me about all the good you do for everyone. It’s time you let yourself be appreciated.”

Your earlier response to Kaya’s welcoming smile was one of your own, but at the mention of your supposed good deeds, you felt it tighten into a grimace. 

It means nothing if I can’t even help you.

Up close, her color wasn’t pale - it was ashen. The whites of her eyes were devoured with a yellowish tint and - 

Like the parasite he was, Klahadore was there pulling Kaya gently by her elbow to lead her back to the conversation between herself and Merry. Your eyes followed him as he made sure to plant her a few feet in front of you; her back excluding you from following to join. 

Once he made sure she was safely away from you, Klahadore stationed himself a few feet away next to the penguin pillar at the base of the stairs. He thought he was sneaky and that he had stopped your trained eyes from being able to do a quick evaluation.

Unlucky for Klahadore you were quicker than he thought. 

You were getting ready to head over to him when you caught Zoro walking back over to the tray. He was doing his usual of placing down an empty glass only to grab a fresh one, except this time he was talking. To Klahadore. 

What a fucking liar!

You couldn’t think straight as you watched the exchange. The way Klahadore overplayed the flabbergasted victim. You didn’t have to be close to them to know what Zoro was asking him, because just like you’d suspected, he did seem familiar to Zoro. 

It felt like you could breathe fire, you were so pissed. 

At some point, Klahadore ended the conversation by interjecting himself into someone else’s conversation. You didn’t care what it was. They could’ve been discussing flying pigs for all you cared. Your eyes were still honed in on Zoro who regarded you for a split second before he sat back down in the parlor’s middle seat. 

You started making your way towards him when Klahadore called out it was time to eat. You suddenly weren’t hungry. 

Zoro must have sensed you coming for him because in one swift move, he was out of the seat and standing. The strap that held his katana’s back over his shoulder as he followed Sham behind the double doors.

“You son of a-“

“Doc!” Usopp whisper-shouted as he nervously took your hand in his. “Sit next to me. Please.” 

You were still seeing metaphorical red. Your brain firing rapidly on only one main thought and that was to get a hold of Zoro and throttle him. 

It wasn’t Usopp’s fault that Zoro was a dick, and he looked genuinely terrified. Stuffing your current bad mood as far down as you could muster (you were about to see said moss-haired reason for your fowl mood in t-minus two seconds), you planted on a smile and gently took Usopp’s hand. 

“What kind of wingman would I be if I didn’t?”

“Oh, thank god,” he laughed. 

The both of you followed closely behind Merry and the others as you were all escorted inside the dining room. Merry quickly took his seat at the end of the table, and you noticed rather quickly Zoro had claimed the seat closest to the door. 

Without thinking, you took the seat beside him and motioned for Usopp to take the last one. The one directly beside Kaya. For a moment, Usopp looked at you wide-eyed and uncertain. You did your best to make him comfortable. 

“You got this, Usopp,” you whispered. “Don’t overthink it.”

His response came in a small nod that did little to erase the terror that shined in his eyes. You gave his arm a light squeeze for reassurance before you straightened up in the chair. Glancing over, you watched as Zoro poured what looked like a freshly opened bottle of wine into a glass. 

You waited patiently for him to finish and when he went to set the bottle down you made your move. With a slight lean to your right, you swiped your hand out to grab a hold of the glass. Zoro caught the movement too late, but you now had his full attention. His nostrils flaring the only indication that he was irritated by your sudden drink stealing. 

Good. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He questioned. 

His dark eyes never left your face as he waited for you to answer. 

“Being petty.”

To bring the point home, you tilted the glass in his direction in a silent salute. You made sure he watched as you brought it to your lips and took a sip of the blood-red wine within. 

Zoro’s jaw ticked in irritation as you gave him a devious smirk, and when Sham came by Zoro waved her over. 

“I need a new glass.”

Now the smile that graced your lips was genuine and you made sure Zoro was aware of it. It was time to have a little fun of your own and that included hogging as much of his alcohol as humanly possible. 

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

As always, thank you for reading. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

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[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |7|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Seven: Tis' the Damn Season

Summary: After that eventful night at Tara's apartment, you find yourself pondering on a few things, but your banter with Tara never ceases. There is enough on your plate as it is, so when you bump into a familiar face it catches you completely off guard

Warning(s): Swearing, making out, mentions of drinking & intoxication, r has a case of bad communication, chemistry (like the actual subject 😣), compulsions, & implied anxiety

Notes: I took over a year off to cut you readers some slack, tell a friend to tell a friend - she's baackkk! 🤭 Ik you missed these stubborn little jerks, so did I. Also not this chapter being at like 10k+ words. Even then, there was a bunch more I wanted to add but I figured I'd save it for the next chapter (already plotting) I didn't wanna keep you waiting any longer than I already have

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The box of pizza and plate of wings sat completely abandoned, forgotten, on Charlotte’s coffee table as her hands traveled to your neck. You let your own hands drop to her hips, pulling her in. Her lips felt soft, yet foreign. You ignored that thought and continued to kiss her, slipping in your tongue while she maneuvered her way onto your lap.

Everything felt hot, you could feel your face heat up as she ever so slightly played with the hem of your shirt. When you gave her the silent signal, she slipped a hand under your shirt—not too high of course, but enough to feel your hips. You felt goosebumps at her touch, suddenly feeling nervous. You once again pushed any negative thoughts to the back of your mind, continuing to kiss her. 

That’s when it clicked. Why you got so nervous all of a sudden, your mind was trying to tell you something, warn you.

You separated from her lips. She looked at you, a confused expression on her face. You weren’t meeting her eye line, feeling rather timid at the moment. “Are you okay?” She asked you. You barely heard her with your heartbeat drumming so loudly in your ears. 

“Um…” You cleared your throat, still not meeting her gaze. “Yeah… I just—sorry.” Charlotte’s expression stayed put as you managed to remove yourself from the couch. 

“Did I do something?” She asked, moving to also stand up. She looked at you with what you could only describe as confusion and concern. You couldn’t blame her one bit—one second you’re all over each other, the next you’re pulling back like she stung you.

“No—no, no, no,” you shook your head while gesturing with your right hand. “You did nothing wrong. I um,” you finally looked to meet her gaze, “it’s just been awhile, I guess.” You could only hope she didn’t see through your lame excuse, it wasn’t completely untrue. 

“Oh,” Charlotte said. “…Oh,” she then repeated when she realized what you meant. “Shit, I didn’t push you did I?” 

“I promise you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been in a weird place  …for a while,” you shrugged, not expecting to add that last part, your tone getting lower as you spoke those words.

“I get it,” she mustered an understanding tone. 

A suffocating silence enveloped the room for a few seconds, causing you to look out the nearby window to be met with pitch darkness.

“It’s actually getting pretty late anyways and I’ve got an early shift in the morning…” You said while slowly getting your jacked that hung from the couch. 

“Of course. Call me?” 

“Yeah,” you briefly smiled at her while adjusting the collar of your jacket. “Sorry, again, for making things awkward,” you apologized while grabbing the last of your things.

“No, don’t worry about it. Stuff happens,” she waved you off while managing a reassuring tone. 

You nodded at her before muttering, “thanks,” and finally leaving the apartment. As soon as you walked out into the crisp night air, you exhaled your own pocket of air you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

That’s when it all came crashing down; the awkwardness, stupidness, and cringyness that came from the situation all because you were scared to let your situationship see your scars. 

Nice going.

You repeated words like moron, idiot, and dumbass while you walked to your car—the train of thought never breaking as you drove to your apartment. Manhattan’s late-night traffic didn’t exactly ease your frustration. You were in the middle of cursing out the car in front of you when your phone started to ring.

Still feeling ridiculously stupid, you were going to let it just ring out, but that was before you saw the contact name. 

You answered the phone. “Tara?” You immediately asked with furrowed eyebrows. Why on earth is she calling you so late?

“Y/NN,” you heard her slur over the phone. Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, immediately realizing what you were about to be in for. Before you could get another word out, she interrupted you. “Have I ever told you you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts?” 

Your eyes widened as heat rushed to your face, your hands nearly slipping off the wheel. The tips of your ears suddenly began to feel very warm while your mouth opened and closed a few times before you could get sound to come out.

“I—uh,” you cleared your throat before continuing. “Where are you right now?”

“Hommee. Where else?” Her answer was followed by hiccups.

“I’m coming over,” you said firmly before hanging up. Being distracted any further by her voice was the last thing you needed right now.  You silently hoped nothing drastic was waiting for you at her apartment as you changed your route.

When were you going to stop jinxing things?

—

It had now been a few weeks since the night at Tara’s apartment took place. Not long after you put her to bed, you gave yourself some time to reflect on her words. And ever since that night, you have been repeating them in your head whenever you were with the Carpenter. It seems as though she was able to move on easily, at least, her silence on the topic made it appear that way. On the outside, you gave the impression that you too had moved on from that night, that it had not affected you whatsoever. But on the inside, you were in emotional turmoil. With replaying your memories, that same tightening feeling in your chest that you felt that night reappeared.

There were so many key points of that night to completely crumble over; for starters, the incident with Charlotte. You are beyond embarrassed thanks to your repulsion for emotional intimacy. You knew if she saw your scars questions would ensue, thus putting you in an uncomfortable position to spill your guts out. The last thing you needed was for that to happen, but that alone had you thinking.

You’ve been on over four dates with Charlotte now and you have no idea where you stand with her. She’s just a situation-ship as of right now, and for all you know she could be seeing this as more. But the thought of asking her where you stand with her makes you emotionally grimace and cause your stomach to churn. 

If you can’t even talk to her about your relationship status, should you even continue seeing her? This question had you thinking even further. Maybe you rushed into this relationship, maybe it was far too soon. Was nearly a year too soon? 

That was the last time you were in a relationship, the last time you allowed yourself any form of emotional intimacy with a partner. But that was the result of almost three years, years of building trust and connection. It was going to take a lot more than just a few dates with someone you don’t truly know to recreate that. It was going to take effort.

As for the Tara part of that night, you didn’t even know where to begin. Where could you? From her compliments to her insults, the night was certainly an eventful one. And just to think, you had seen her just hours before and there hadn’t seemed to be any issues. 

The coming semester is certainly going to be an interesting one.

—

You and Tara were in your apartment, huffing and groaning could be heard throughout your room. She sat cross legged at the edge of your bed while you were leaned up against the headboard. Papers sprawled all over the bed, pens and pencils scattered—almost imitating what the inside of your mind currently looked like.

“Was the first sheet you gave me—was it nine or seven?!”

You let out a huff, mixed with a long sigh, at Tara’s repeated question. After running a hand down your face, you slid closer beside her to get a better look at her paper. “This is table nine right here,” you emphasized by rapidly tapping your pencil on the spot of the paper you wanted her to focus on.

She rolled her eyes as she mumbled, “Oh my god—” She turned her head to looked at you as she huffed, “Answer my fucking question with a yes or a no; was it a yes—was it a nine or a seven?”

You muttered a few curses under your breath—curses you knew she heard because of your close proximity—before taking your pencil to her paper once again. “Alright, okay so I’m gonna circle this—”

“What the fuck—?!”

“This is—this is nine,” you glanced at her for a moment to make sure she was paying attention. All you were met with was a dumbfounded look.

“But what’s the top??”

“That’s table seven.” 

There were a few seconds of her just staring at the paper and you looking between her and the paper until she said something.

“What?” Her voice indifferent.

“So I’m assuming you don’t get it…”

She turned her gaze from her paper to you, hitting you with a hard glare. “No, asshole. I don’t get it.” She then threw her pencil to the side and got up from the bed. Her arm brushes against yours as she does so but you choose not to pay any mind.

“I’m so tired of chemistry,” she all but whined before dramatically plopping back down on your bed face first.

“You’re the one that said you needed help,” you pointed out while curiously flipping through her notebook. “I remember wanting to stick with routine and work on our history project.” Her doodles are cute.

“So helpful,” she sarcastically remarked, muffled; she was still face planted on your mattress, right beside you. 

“I try,” you reply in a monotone voice; you were still flipping through her notes as you talked.

Tara rolled over on her back, pushing loose strands of her raven hair away from her face. She exhaled before clearing her throat—which didn’t get your attention, so she tried again …and again, after the third time she just settled for throwing a nearby pillow at your head.

You finally turned to look at her with furrowed eyebrows and a hand to the back of your head. “Um, can I help you?”

“Can we just start on the math now?”

“You couldn’t have asked that without the pillow to my head?” You asked incredulously.

“Do you have this, like, mental illness that prevents you from properly answering ‘yes or no’ questions—”

“Get your other notes out before I change my mind.” 

Tara scrambled over to the side of the bed, reaching over to grab her bag that sat beside your bed. She quickly wiped off a giddy smile as she took out her needed papers. You were neatly setting her previous papers to the side as she did so.

“Alright, what do you got for me, Carpenter?” You inquired while she scooted back next to you; you’re both sitting side by side, leaning against your bed’s headboard as you looked at the page of notes she was showing you. 

“This is basically everything that's going to be on my exam next week,” her stress regarding her exams was evident from her tone. “Some topics I’m good with, other’s I’m okay with, and a few I’m struggling with.” She turned to look at you, eyes practically burning holes in the side of your head with a pleading look. Pleading for you to help her.

After a moment of silence—of you intently staring at the paper—you hummed to yourself, nodding, as you finally returned Tara’s gaze before speaking. “I have highlighters; I want you to circle the ones you’re okay with in orange, and the one’s you’re struggling with in red,” you told her while reaching into the drawer of your nightstand for the highlighters. 

All you got was a brief, “Mhm,” while you blindly thrashed your hand around for the highlighters. When you finally got the right colors, you handed them to her before getting up from your bed which earned you a confused look from the other girl.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. Don’t miss me too much,” you couldn't help but smirk at the girl, leaving before she had the chance to counteract. You weren’t sure if you were smirking because of your own remark, or if it was thought Tara was missing you. It definitely left a warm feeling inside of you.

She doesn’t miss you. She wants less of you, remember? Your head reminded you, causing that familiar feeling of your chest tightening. Your breathing was still a bit hollow from the feeling as you finished up in the bathroom and walked back to your bedroom.

“You finished?” You asked Tara while returning to your previous seat beside her. 

“Yes but I have a proposition for you,” Tara responded almost immediately. You stopped your movements, eyeing her with a suspicious look. 

“Lay it on me,” you said.

“We can continue doing all this,” she gestured to her notes, “—but instead we can do it in a place with food.”

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate, please.”

“I want to go to the diner nearby, and finish studying there. I’m tired and starving—and you haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks so I already know there’s not much to find in your fridge.”

“Wait, how do you know the last time I went shopping?”

Tara ignored your question, instead continuing to look at you with those doe eyes of hers as she continued to plead. “Pleeeaaase, Y/N?”

You looked at her, feigning a reluctant look before letting out a sigh. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Thank goodness. My stomach was starting to make noises I’ve never heard before,” she said as she was gathering her papers.

—

“Done!” Tara announced in a cheery tone. You looked up from your book as she slid over the sheet of loose leaf she was just working on. “I put a star next to number three; I was having trouble with that one the most,” she told you before sipping her half drunken milkshake. 

You nodded her way as your eyes skimmed her paper. “All these are correct—including number three. Was there a specific reason you didn’t fully understand it?”

“Mainly the order of the steps,” she answered.

“I see. Well you were correct. But if you continue to have trouble with the memorization stuff, flashcards are great memorization tools. Especially colored ones. I can lend you some of you want,” you offered her while giving her back the piece of paper.

“Oh—yeah. Totally,” she chuckled before loudly clearing her throat and practically shoving the straw in her milkshake into her mouth. There was something that washed over her—possibly embarrassment? You couldn’t be too sure. But why would she be embarrassed? Sometimes you wish you could hear her thoughts, just so you could get some insight on what was going through her head during certain moments.

Tara stared down at her straw, subconsciously refusing to pick up her head until she felt less flushed. That was so embarrassing, she kept thinking to herself. ToTalLy! Goodness, Tara, she just offered you some flash cards—not her hand in marriage. Her cheeks got even warmer at the idea.

“You good, Tar?” You just had to ask with that painfully soft voice you get when you’re concerned. Oh, and why did you have to call her Tar? She still remembers when you called her Tar for the first time—you were hiding away from everyone in her bedroom when she found you. She felt her knees physically grow weak as heat rushed to her ears, and now she’s found herself in that same predicament due to you opening your stupid, occasionally sweet, mouth. 

“Hm? Great!”

“Um,” you let out a short, awkward, and airy laugh. “Okay, good, yeah.” Your eyes subconsciously took a quick scan around the diner due to Tara’s sudden volume change. “So anyways, from the looks of those problems, you’re gonna nail your exam. Just try not to overthink your answers too much.”

Tara hummed before returning to her milkshake just to realize she was all out. Guess she’s going to have to find another thing to distract her eyes from you.

You, on the other hand, were still confused. Did you say something? Why did she seem so timid all of a sudden? Did the flashcards somehow cross a line? If so, in what way did it? Tara was being a little too silent for your liking, which is really saying something considering how much you value your quiet time. 

You were about to do one of the hardest things you have ever done. Attempt small talk.

You cleared your throat, “So. How’s—how are you and uh Chad?” This finally got Tara to look up. She eyed you with a confused expression. “Like, dating and stuff,” you awkwardly added. Your palms were already growing sweaty as your leg began to bounce. 

“Me and Chad? Dating?” That’s when she bursted out laughing, handing over her mouth and everything. You suddenly felt like a total dumbass but you weren’t sure as to why. Were they no longer dating? Well obviously, if you had to take anything from her reaction. But you weren’t doing a lot of laughing when you and your ex-girlfriend broke up.

“Oh—I’m sorry, let me catch my breath for a second.” She literally wiped away a tear from how hard she was laughing before speaking up again. “Y/N, Me and Chad are not together.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. And we never will be, never ever ever.”

“Never ever?” 

“Never ever.”

You couldn’t help the sudden wave of relief that washed over you, but you weren’t sure where it came from.

“But I saw you two kissing at a party,” you told her.

“Right …that. Yeah, I try not to think about that night if I’m being honest. It was honestly super embarrassing; I was completely drunk, so drunk to the point where I thought he was… someone else,” her voice grew a little quieter towards the end as she sank a little in her booth.

“Oh.” Was all you said. You didn’t know what else to say. What could you? That night was a misunderstanding, and judging by Tara’s words and reaction to the accusation of her and Chad dating—that relationship is long from happening. Yet another feeling of relief washed over you as you had that thought. 

“Yeah,” Tara shrugged. That’s when something clicked in her head …she could use this awkward discussion to her advantage. “Since we’re on the topic of dating, how are you and Charlotte? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.” And good riddance for that, she silently thought to herself. 

“I kinda ended that,” you nonchalantly answered before shoving a fry in your mouth. 

“Oh that sucks,” she feigned a sympathetic tone. “It seemed like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I guess.”

Tara wanted to leave it that, really she did, but she just couldn’t help but pry. “Something happened?” She asked you.

“Nope. Just fizzled, I guess. situation-ships do that sometimes, not surprising.”

“Wait, ‘situation-ship’? What do you mean by that?” Her question and her tone of interest had you looking at her with raised eyebrows, utterly confused for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“Like, it wasn’t serious. I wouldn't call her my girlfriend, doubt she’d call me hers. Nothing more than a casual relationship,” you responded, for some reason you felt the need to tread lightly.

“Didn’t you go on like five dates? If you go on multiple dates, that means you’re dating. Thus the word dating being an extension to date,” she sternly replied. 

“Alright, I understand the responsibility of a verb—why are you getting upset over this?”

“I’m not upset.” The pout she wore as she defensively crossed her arms with slumped shoulders told you otherwise. “I just—I don’t know. I want pie.”

“Okay. I’ll get you pie, but could we please switch to a different subject?”

“Fine,” she mumbled; her gaze may have been directed toward her napkin, but it threatened to meet you every second. 

—

“I can’t believe you finally watched it!” You exclaimed to Tara. The both of you were headed back to your apartment; it was dark out as it lightly snowed. You were holding the bag of leftovers, walking on the street-side of the sidewalk as Tara kept her hands firmly placed in her jacket pockets, protecting them from what felt like sub-zero temperature.

“I only avoided it for so long because of you!” She laughed.

“Wow, so you’ve been missing out on one of the greatest shows of all time due to pettiness?”

“Okay, okay—I said it was good, not great.”

“Ah, but you wanna say great. It’s that darn pettiness holding you back, once again,” you said as your smile never broke.

“Did you just say ‘darn’?”

“Yeah, what?” 

Tara only laughed as she shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Oh! You should watch the extended cut—if you thought it was funny before, you're gonna love the superfan episodes.”

“I’ll give them a shot,” she truthfully responded. She would say anything to keep you talking like this. One of the things she loved listening to was you geeking out over something you were passionate about. Maybe it was the sound of your voice, maybe it was how you lit up, maybe it was how animated you were while talking. 

“Definitely do—” You were cut off by a body colliding into you, causing you to drop the bag of leftovers you were carrying. You muttered a “sorry” before crouching down to pick it up. Tara was about to help until your eyes met with the other person’s.

“Y/N?” The stranger asked.

“Olivia?” You mirrored a confused look.

What was your highschool sweetheart from Woodsborro doing in the middle of Manhattan?

“Oh my gosh—it really is you.” Olivia laughed a bit as the realization set in. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit too. 

“Yeah—yeah, and it’s you.” You responded before she came in for a hug. Your movement stuttered for a second before welcoming her hug. She was still as warm as the day you met, her dark hair still holding its shine it did since the last time you saw her.

The hug was understandably awkward, but for once you didn’t mind awkward. “What are you doin’ in New York?” You finally asked her. 

“I’m here for this documentary thing I’m working on,” she said.

“That’s right—your documentaries. I’m glad you’re still at those,” you told her in a genuine tone.

She grew a smile at the words you spoke. “Thanks… that means a lot.”

“Oh—uh, you remember Tara, right?” You turned and briefly pointed at the Carpenter who slightly waved.

“Yeah, I do. Hey,” Olivia said with no bitterness. She took a few steps and held out her hand to Tara, which the other girl took.

“Hey,” Tara nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“I’m surprised you two are out in public together,” Olivia joked. You and Tara both laughed awkwardly at your dynamic being brought up.

“Me too,” you joked back. “So uh—you staying long?” You asked, purposely deflecting to a different topic.

“It’s currently indefinite, I’m crashing at a friend’s place right now.” There was a glint in your eye that Olivia picked up. “Would you like to grab coffee sometime? I’d love to catch up.”

“Yeah, that sounds cool,” you replied; you were trying your best to hide your eagerness. 

“Awesome,” she grinned at you. “So, see you around?”

“See you around,” you said. You instantly began to cringe at yourself as she started walking away, but she didn’t leave without giving you one last look. As soon as she left ear shot, you let out a long awaited sigh.

“Geez.” The sound of Tara’s voice caused you to flinch, you completely forgot she was standing right there. “That was hard to watch,” she remarked.

“No one asked,” you said with an eye roll as the two of you began to walk again. 

“Someone’s bitter,” she replied. “Hey—” She put the back of her hand on your chest to stop you from walking as she turned to look at you, “Let’s go to my place instead.”

“Why?”

“I wanna finish these leftovers on the roof,” she answered.

“My apartment has a roof,” you told her.

“Not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

“It's just not. Now come on before our food gets even colder and more destroyed.”

“I guess I’m following you,” you mumbled while trailing behind Tara.

—

You and Tara were sitting on white patio chairs; the same ones you recall from the last few times you’ve been up on the roof. The wind had calmed down since your walkover, snow still lightly falling from the sky. You were eating your fries as Tara was eating what was left of her pie. 

“I’m just saying, I could totally take down a bear.”

“Not in a million years, Tara. You, a 5 foot gremlin, versus a big furry thing with claws that could rip you to shreds? Be serious,” you deadpanned.

“First of all, I’m 5 foot 1, second of all, you’re really underestimating me here. If I can take down a sociopath while crippled—”

Tara didn’t talk about Woodsboro a whole lot, really the only time she’s talked about it—with you at least—was the night it happened, the party at Henry’s house, and just now if that even counted. She never seemed to name-drop anyone connected to that night. But you understood. You don’t remember the last time you said Dewey’s name out loud. 

“A sociopath? Yes. But last I checked, the said sociopath didn’t have the same physical traits as a bear—therefore, your argument holds no power.” You shoved a few fries in your mouth before silently offering her some, in which she accepted.

You glanced over at her to see her expression—she looked kind of disappointed. You sighed, thinking for a moment, before speaking again. “Okay, I’m not saying you have no chance. You’d still do some damage—and I guess it’s not impossible to beat a bear.” You hated the instant flip in your stomach from seeing the way she lit up, it was subtle but you’re grateful you noticed.

She smiled, almost grinning but she resisted. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“Jump on its back, put it in a headlock,” you added with your own little smile.

“Exactly. You get me,” she absentmindedly said right before taking another bite of her pie.

“What a mad world we live in,” you joked while reaching beside your chair for your milkshake. Tara wasn’t sure what you meant by that, but she just decided to ignore it rather than dwell on it—at least for the moment. She looked over to see you sipping your milkshake and a sly smile appeared on her face as she began to lean closer to you, her elbows resting on her chair’s armrest and expression never faltering.

“You want something, Tar?” 

“That’s an awfully tasty looking milkshake you have there,” she commented; she feigned an innocent tone.

You glanced at her from your peripheral vision—she was on your left side—as you played with the straw in your milkshake. “Tara…” You all but sang. She hummed in response, her position still the same. “Would you like my milkshake?” You asked, but your tone hinted that you already knew what her answer was going to be.

“Well, I guess since you’re offering. Who would I be to pass up a perfectly good milkshake?”

“You’re a piece of work,” you remarked with a broad smile that Tara could describe as gleaming. 

“You’re the sucker who gave me her milkshake,” she sneered before taking a sip from said milkshake.

“I’d watch my tone if I were you, ‘cause this sucker could easily take it back,” you threatened, lightly laughing along with the other girl. 

She scoffed and waved her free hand, “Yeah right. I’d like to see you try.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You get up from your chair, eyes never leaving Tara. “I bet I could take it back from you, no sweat.” 

A smirk grew on Tara’s face as she also got up from her chair. “Okay, okay, you’re on then. Winner takes all—all being the milkshake.” 

“You got yourself a deal.”

“Okay then let’s do this, come on bring it,” Tara’s grin was just too strong to fight off as she lifted up her elbows; one, to use as a shield for her milkshake, and two, to use as her weapon. 

You let out a laugh when you saw a defense mechanism. “That’s pathetic,” you quipped.

“Oh, really?” She said with raised eyebrows. She then shoved her elbows towards you, both of you laughing during all this. 

“Oh!” You took that as a chance to grab her from behind and wrap your arms around her waist, holding her in place as she attempted to break loose; in her defense, it wasn’t as easy to do so while she was flushed against you, her face heating up from both the action and her ceaseless laughter. 

The milkshake dropped to the floor, but neither of you paid any mind. You lifted her up a bit as you spoke, “Not much of a fighter now, huh?” You quipped in a smug tone. 

“You are so playing dirty right now!” She said; her shirt rose a little bit and her hands were loosely holding onto your forearms.

“I don’t remember seeing a rule book. Just surrender and I’ll put you down,” you told her as if it was the simplest thing ever; for anyone else, it would have been.

“No way!” At her response you lifted her higher at which she started rapidly patting arm. 

“You finally surrender?”

“Never in a bazillion years!” Just as Tara said that, she felt a drop of water on her forehead. She furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up at the night sky. “Shit—I think it’s raining.”

“Yeah right, you just don’t wanna be the one to surrender,” you accused while adjusting your hold on Tara.

“I actually felt—” Before Tara could finish her sentence, a loud grumble could be heard as it started to abruptly pour. “I told you!”

“Shit,” you cursed as you put Tara down.

“We need to get inside.”

“Incredible observation. Thought of being a detective?” You quipped.

“Shut up. It’s freezing, let’s just get inside.” Tara was visibly shivering, wrapping her arms around each other while hugging them close to her torso. 

“Okay, come on.” 

Tara barely let you finish speaking as she started rushing towards the door. “Wait—! Tara, don't run! You could slip!” You tried to match her speed without breaking your neck in the process. You nearly sighed in relief when she slowed down. 

She looked at you with an inpatient look as she waited for you to catch up. You were in the process of taking off your jacket as you caught up to her. “If you’re going to slow me down, at least walk a little faster. I’m getting drenched, and this outfit isn’t exactly water resistant—I’m not water resistant!”

“Geez, alright. Quit complaining.” You caught up to her, trailing behind her as you wrapped your jacket around her. “Stop looking at me funny, just open the door,” you said in response to the lost expression she gave you.

She mumbled something incoherent while reaching for the door’s handle and turning. 

As soon as you stepped inside, you let out a long exhale while rubbing your hands together. You looked beside you to see Tara attempting to shake off the water she was drenched in; of course, as a result, she ended up spraying you in the process. “Do you have to do that near me?”

“Where else am I doing it?” She tightened your jacket around her, holding it impossibly close to keep herself warm.

“Whatever, I gotta get home anyway. Picked up a few extra shifts,” you said while double checking your phone’s dryness.

“I thought the cafe gave you off on Saturdays.”

“Uh, yeah. I do. I’m—covering for a coworker, I owe them so,” you trailed off with a shrug; you batted your eyes away from Tara, suddenly finding your drenched jeans very interesting. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you,” Tara responded; you made your way down the stairs but not before sparing a small smile.

—

It was the next day, 8:52 am on a Saturday. You had woken up around 4:00 since you had to get in around 7:00 to help set up and open at 8:00. Exhaustion was hitting you back and forth, the only thing that was keeping you awake, barely, was your few hours old coffee you had brought from home. Staying out late with Tara was really biting you in the ass, but you were usually tired these days so it wasn’t much of a difference.

Although it was slow since the day had just begun for many, you still found yourself dealing with incompetence so early in the morning. Truly, it was too early for this. If one more person asked about Halloween stuff, Thanksgiving stuff—any other thing they should’ve gotten months prior, you are going to bash your head into a wall.

Why are people asking their barista about stupid out of season decorations? It’s simple, the cafe wasn’t paying you enough; attending college and living off campus wasn’t getting any cheaper and you needed a reliable job. So when you saw that Target was hiring, you applied. That’s how you came to balance two jobs and some of the most insufferable customers you have ever had the displeasure of conversing with.

“I’m sorry miss, but we stopped selling that after October. But if you’d like, I can show you to the candy aisle—”

“No, listen to me, these are what I want,” she snarled while shoving her phone in your face; her phone showed a picture of the Halloween candy she wanted. “I don’t want regular sour patch, I don't want regular m&m’s, I don’t want regular reese’s pieces—I want Hal-lo-ween candy.” 

“I know that, but miss—”

“Can you just go check in the back? Please? My son has been driving me insane and I need to at least do this one thing right,” she begged.

You let out a silent sigh, “Of course. I’ll go check in the back to see if we have anything left.”

“See, now that wasn’t so hard,” she said as you made your way to the storage room. You rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore her statement. It really was too early for this.

You went into the storage and sat down on a nearby box; you just stared at the ceiling, zoning out for about a minute before heading back.

“I apologize, we don’t have what you're looking for. Is there anything else I can help with?”

She scoffed at you, clutching her purse as she did so. “No, I do not need your help because clearly it is no use. Your manager will be hearing from me,” she angrily said before strutting away.

“I’m sure he’ll love that,” you remark out loud to yourself. Once she’s out of your eye line, you let out an aggravated sigh. Working in retail is not for the weak.

You walked back to the end of the aisle and began to restock the shelves again, the thing you were previously doing before being interrupted. You picked up one of the boxes of cereal when your hand accidentally knocked something out of your pocket. It fell by your feet, you glanced at it for a moment before looking back at the shelf—but that’s when it registered what it was. You immediately placed down the box then kneeled down to pick up what you dropped. 

It was a folded piece of paper. You slightly furrowed your eyebrows as you unfolded it before you traded your confusion for a smile. You looked at the doodles that covered the paper, the doodles drawn by Tara. Her name was even signed at the corner; sometimes she draws her name in different fonts to pass the time. Over the years, you noticed her favorite font to draw is graffiti lettering. You were now standing up, still smiling down at the piece of paper. You always admired the way she wrote—

—Suddenly somebody clears their throat. You jumped, blinking rapidly while attempting to shove the paper back into your pocket. You turn your head around to see your co-worker, Avery, crossing her arms while giving you a look you couldn’t quite read. “Secret admirer?” She remarked with a smirk.

“No, it’s just—it’s nothing. Scraps, really if you could even call it that,” you stammered while trying to nonchalantly lean against the shelves. It wasn’t a total failure, you guess.  

“...Right,” she narrowed her eyes at her, clearly not believing your crappy save, but dropped it nevertheless. “Anyways, me, Vicky and a few of the others are gonna go out for a drink tonight; can I count you in?” 

You stopped leaning on the shelves as you thought for a moment. You usually weren’t one for going out, but it’s been a long few months. With that thought, everything that’s happened in the past year flashes through your mind. It’s been nothing but motion sickness, and maybe you could go for a drink or two. 

“You know what—yeah, I’m in,” you nodded at her before returning to the boxes of cereals that sat in the cart beside you. 

“Wait, really? You never wanna come to these things …damn it, I owe Vicky like 20 bucks,” Avery silently moped as she walked away. You laughed a bit at her comment as you continued stocking the shelves.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

—

When you got home that day, you made sure to take a nap before it was time to leave for the bar. When you got there, you stood at the doorway for a few seconds, honestly not sure what your next move was but luckily you caught Avery’s eye and she waved you over. You walked over to where she and the others sat at—the bar—you sat down on the stool beside Avery who was sat next to Vicky. You were surprised they weren’t sitting on the same stool with how tangled with each other they were.

“You made it!!” Avery shouted in a cheery voice that made you wince as she pumped her fists in the air. “Look, Vicky! Y/N’s here!”  Vicky nodded at the girl while trying to subtly ground her by rubbing her lower back.

She looked over at you with an apologetic look. “Sorry, she gets kinda loud and hyper when she’s drunk.”

You chuckled a little, giving her a reassuring shake with your head. “Don’t worry about it, I’m a pretty embarrassing drunk anyways so I couldn’t talk. Probably why I don’t do it much,” you told her while your arms rested on the table. 

“Gosh, I can’t wait to see you drunk,” she said while adjusting her arm as Avery was now resting her head on Vicky’s shoulder.

“That’s never gonna happen—just a club soda for me. At most I’ll do some watered down beer, but that’s really it,” you said. 

“Wow.”

“I know, I’m a party animal,” you quipped with sarcasm laced in your voice.

“Total rebel,” she added as you both laughed. “So, other than the fact that you’re a total bad boy—how are you liking New York?” She asked with Avery still wrapped around her who had snuggled up closer to her.

“It’s fine. Hasn’t changed much since the last time I lived here.”

“Yeah? Did you live in Manhattan before or someplace else?” 

“Brooklyn. I was born there, and lived there until …I didn’t,” you answered with your train of thought trailing off with your answer. So much has changed since you moved. What if you didn’t move? What if you never moved back? What if you lived in Woodsboro first? What if—

“—Did your family  move around a lot?” She asked another question out of pure curiosity.

“Uh…” You picked at the wood surface in front of you, suddenly feeling drained and exhausted. “ No. Just one time.” 

“Cool, my family moved around a few times. It’s a pretty hard thing to go through, even if it’s just once,” she said in an understanding tone. She looked back to Avery, smiling to herself as she stared admirably at the half-a-sleep girl nuzzled up against her. 

You glanced over at the adorable site before asking, “How long have you two been dating?”

“A couple months, but we’ve known each other for ten years,” she responded while pushing back loose strands of hair that covered Avery’s eyes.

“That’s a long time,” was all you could think to say. 

“Yeah, she’s literally my other half. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” After letting herself stare at Avery for another moment, Vicky turned her gaze back to you. “How about you—you seeing anyone?”

“Eh.”

“Eh?”

“I was uh, sort of seeing someone? But broke that off recently. Too close for comfort,” you elaborated for her while silently deciding if you should drink tonight.

“Your casual relationship get too intimate?” She raised an eyebrow before you responded with a tiny nod, she probably would have missed it if she blinked in the same moment. “Yeah, I used to be like that before Avery.” 

“Guess I just gotta wait for my Avery,” you half-joked, earning a laugh from Vicky. 

“I hope you do, she’s definitely a keeper,” she said fondly. She looked at you—your head now resting on your folded arms—and saw the distraught expression you wore, it looked as if you were silently having a debate with yourself. 

“Something up?”

You did a double-take at her, lifting up your head before sparing her a meek smile. “Just thinking, you know?”

Vicky nodded before adding on. “You need advice? I’ve always been told I give great advice.” Her voice was kind and held nothing but honesty.

“Sure…” You were hesitant to accept but you were also on the verge of digging yourself into a hole just to avoid decision making. To be fair, you often think about barricading yourself to avoid dealing with your problems—and oftentimes, you have actually done it. “So last night I bumped into my ex,” you reluctantly began, “and we briefly talked, and she mentioned meeting up sometime to catch up.”

“I’m assuming you’re nervous about the catching up part?” 

You confirmed with a hum.

“Are you nervous about being the first to reach out, the catching up part overall, or both?”

“Yes.”

She let out a tiny laugh, not unkindly, before telling you that advice she told you about not long ago. “This was all last night, right? I say, wait a couple more days, then reach out if you’re up to it, and then once you get that part out of the way the rest will build itself.”

“You really think so?”

“Promise, I really don’t think you should stress too much on this. And listen, if you’re really not ready to meet up with her yet, I think she’d understand. Either way, it’s your choice,” she told you before sipping her drink.

“That’s… really good advice. Thank you,” you complimented.

“You’re welcome, anytime. I did mention that I give great advice.”

“I said good, not great,” you said in a tone that hinted you were just teasing.

“Yeah, okay whatever.” Vicky playfully rolled her eyes as you smiled at your own taunting.

Maybe this was not as bad as you were making it out to be, maybe everything would be okay. Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to look up.

—

Things were awful. You could never have been so wrong in your life. It was one thing after another. First with the text; you had to just hope Olivia didn’t change her number as you looked for her contact—which you had to look for by number since your removed her name and photo right after your breakup out of pure pettiness—and it took you about half an hour to think of the right words to send, and as soon as you sent them you immediately regretted it.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Next was when she actually responded. 

Y/N (4:42 pm) Hey, it’s Y/N. Catching up sounds cool, so if the offer still stands I’d love to take you up on it

(XXX) XXX-XXXX (4:56 pm) Hi, yeah offer still stands. I’m actually free tonight if that works? I know that’s short notice so I completely understand if you’re unable to

You were in the middle of revising your notes at the kitchen counter when you heard the ding from the couch. Your head immediately shot up, and as soon as it processed what that ding was—you ran to it, hopping over the back of the couch and grabbing your phone. 

You read the message over to yourself exactly seven times before impulsively reacting to her message with a thumbs up. After your response, you got another text from Olivia and the two of you made a decision of when and where to meet. 

Oh, how deeply you regretted your impulsiveness as you stared at the same outfit over and over again. That’s what came right after the communication part; what exactly you were going to wear. You felt ridiculous, you’re usually not like this—but that happens to be a reminder of all the different things Olivia brings out in you. Good and bad. It was like you were 17 again.

Eventually you decided on something comfortable, casual, it’s not like you were going someplace fancy. The air in your apartment suddenly grew to be suffocating the closer it got to the time you had to leave. You gathered your belongings; you gathered your wallet, keys, phone, headphones, and lighter, shoving a few of them into your pockets. Just before leaving you stood still for a second.

What could I be missing? There has to be something. There has to be something. Damn it, there has to be something! 

Your eyes wandered around your apartment for a good minute before you called it in. You patted yourself down while muttering the names of the items you felt in your pockets before finally leaving. You locked up behind you and let out a long sigh as you ran your hand down your face. 

When you got to the bakery, your heart was beating in your ears and you felt your ears warm up when you made eye contact with Olivia from just a few tables away. She waved at you and you waved back as you subtly gulped. On the way towards the table, you silently hoped she didn’t pick up on the urge you had to perish right then and there.

“Hey,” you said. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hug her or shake her hand, something, so you just stuck with sending a small but simple smile her way.

“Hi,” she responded. She returned your smile as she looked you up and down. “You look good—I mean, you look yeah,” she awkwardly laughed, flustered from her stammering.

You returned a short laugh, feeling a tiny bit of the tension beginning to ease but not entirely, “You look good too,” your smile grew softer as you spoke. You noticed her eyes still wandering. “Didn’t get a good look last time?” You quipped in a teasing tone.

She shook her head as she tried to fight off the bright smile that painted her face. “I see you haven’t changed much,” she said.

“Well, me and change have never mixed well.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” she made her tone less monotone to ease the weight of her words. But that didn’t make you oblivious to their meaning.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture while you folded your hands and dropped them to your lap. “So, how’s the documentary going?”

“Just fine,” she said positively. “Still in the early stages, and you know how that can be.” You nodded along to her words.  It suddenly became awkwardly quiet. 

You picked at your cuticles, pressing harder and harder for that sweet sensation you craved, your gaze everywhere but at Olivia. That tension you felt before started to settle in your chest again, and you didn’t know how to cope. You just wanted out. You regretted agreeing to this. You wish you never bumped into her. You wish you never agreed to dinner with Tara because then this wouldn't be happening. 

Of course it goes back to Tara. It always seems to.

“You still do that thing with your fingers?” She asked out of the blue.

“Huh?” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking down at your lap to where your hands rested. 

“I don’t have to look to know. I've known you for three years, Y/N,” she said.

“Oh.”

“And I can hear you picking at them from under the table.”

You suddenly felt small, slumping in your chair, and continuing to avoid eye contact with the woman who sat across from you. However, Olivia did not return this treatment. She sat up in her chair, placing her own hands on the table before turning them over to expose her palms. “Let me see your hands.” 

“What?”

“Show. Me. Your. Hands.”

 It didn’t seem like she was asking. There was definitely not a question mark in there. You rolled your eyes, letting out a small sigh that held aggravation. Reluctantly, you complied with her commands. She took your hands in hers and began to examine them, her fingers tracing down and softly rubbing against yours—you forgot how soft her hands were. As soon as her hands made contact with yours, you felt your joints grow weak and your cheeks felt too warm. You don’t remember the last time you held hands with her but it was certainly having an affect on you.

“Have you been using these as a chew toy?” She rhetorically asked, referring to your fingers whilst still examining them.

“Okay, they’re not that bad.”

“Yes. Yes they are,” she said with no hesitation.

She finally stopped looking at your fingers and instead at you. When you saw the worried expression that painted her face, you knew a line of questioning was approaching. “Are you okay?” She inquired in an unbearably gentle voice.

“I’m fine.”

“Which means you’re not fine.”

“Putting words into my mouth, as always,” you said in a low tone as you pulled your hands away from her.

“You really want to go there?” She let out a short exasperated laugh with her question, raising her eyebrows as she spoke.

“When I say I’m fine—I’m fine,” you said while leaning in and emphasizing your words by pressing on the table with your index finger; you leaned back against your chair when you finished speaking.

“Oh my God. You are literally so unbelievable—do you even hear yourself?” She looked at you with pure disbelief which only confused you further.

“What are you even talking about? All I said is that when I say I’m fine, I mean those words. How am I wrong here? I genuinely don’t understand,” you expressed in both frustration and genuine confusion.

“And what I am trying to say is you’re still the exact same person I was arguing with right before we broke up.”

“What?”

“You never want to talk! Listen, baby, I get you’re grieving—but you can’t just shut me out like this. It’s apparent that you need help! You don’t have to rush into it, but eventually—”

“Whether I talk or not is my choice! And I’m not seeing some stupid grief counselor, okay? Just because I don’t wanna talk to you about certain things, doesn’t mean I’m shutting you out—and I don’t need help! I’m fine. I’m just—damn it, I’m just processing. Can’t you let me do that at least?”

“You have been ‘processing’ for months! It’s time to—”

“Time to what? Move one?”

“That’s not what I was going to say!”

“But you’re thinking it. You’re thinking it just like everyone else is; my mom, my brothers, everyone at school—just leave me alone, all right!”

“Y/N, nobody is—”

“No! Everyone is thinking! Just stop, okay! I don’t need your bullshit sweet nothings, I don’t need some therapist, I don't need to talk about it—I’m fine!”

You and her could not even go five minutes without your conversation, or lack of, forming into an argument. And it was your fault. You were the problem. You couldn’t answer a simple question. Maybe you were hiding behind the fact that you didn’t know how to answer that question, or that you're trying to hide the answer from others. Either way, you always find yourself forming emotional barricades around you, no one in and no one out. 

“Hey, come back,” Olivia’s voice rang. You were pulled from your thoughts, blinking rapidly as if it would wipe away the memories you tried so hard to erase. She leaned in, her irritated expression replaced with a comforting one. “I know how mean that voice in your head can be, I know what it does to you—but I just want you to be okay.”

You met her gaze, your expression equivalent to the look of a lost puppy. “Thank you, Olivia,” you simply said. It was not much, but it still weighed in emotion. 

 The rest of the night was less intense. She asked about Blackmore and how it’s going, which inevitably opened the door to her questioning you about seeing you with Tara the other night, and you found out more about her documentary. The night was long and tiring, but as much as you hate to admit it, you’re glad you agreed to catch up with Olivia. And you would be a bold faced liar if you said you didn’t miss her. The wound is still arguably fresh, but it’s beginning to heal. 

You walked into the apartment, looking forward to changing into a pair of pajamas and binge watching some TV on the couch until you passed out. You have been studying non-stop for exams for the past four weeks, so why not give yourself a treat? Plus, this upcoming school week, you will officially be exactly one week from exams so you will be locked in. What does that mean? You do what you usually do but multiply that by a million, anyone who has known you long enough knows they’re going to hear less and less from you the closer you get to exams. It’s as if you completely shut down from the outside—actually, that’s exactly what happens.

As you walked inside, you yawned and rubbed your tired eyes. But as they begin to focus again, you notice a few blobs sitting in your living room. When your eyes are fully focused, that’s when you see them.

“Are you shitting me,” you expressed in a monotone voice while turning the locks on the door before throwing your keys to the side.

“No—no whining!” Anika immediately said. “You knew they were coming over.”

“I thought you canceled,” you said.

“Uncanceled.”

“What a miracle,” you remarked as you took off your jacket.

“How come whenever I have people over you have a problem with it as if this isn't a shared apartment?” 

“Y/N being an inconsiderate jackass? What a revolation,” Tara pitched in with a smirk. You looked over to deadpan at her and she was already staring back at you.

“Says the woman who still owes me a milkshake,” you wiggled a finger at her. You both smiled at each other before you turned back around to kick off your shoes. “You know what, Nik, it’s fine. I’m just kind of grumpy right now.”

“It���s okay, I’m sorry for not giving you an update,” she said, matching your own apoplectic tone. “You wanna join us? We were gonna play some Uno then watch a movie.”

“Uh, I don’t know—”

“Yeah, probably 'cause you’re gonna get all embarrassed when I wipe the floor with your ass in Uno,” the younger Carpenter knowingly instigated.

“Oh, excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m the reigning champ in my family—don’t start something you can’t finish, princess,” you instigated back.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright,” your gaze stayed on Tara for a moment before switching back to Anika, “I’ll join you.”

—

“Tara is totally looking at my cards!” Chad shouted while shoving his cards to his chest like an elderly woman clutching her pearls.

“I am not! You’re the one who keeps leaning on my side!” Tara whined back with just as much passion, if not more.

“Okay—no one looks at anyone's cards!” Anika cut in. “Alright, babe, it’s your turn.”

Mindy wore a devious smirk, slowly picking a card from her deck for dramatic effect. 

“Boom, suck on that!” Everyone leaned in to look at the plus four Mindy slammed down on the pile of cards. Chad instantly groaned, immediately feeling a sense of regret for wasting his last plus four. He sulked while taking four more cards.

Now it was your turn. Tara was right after you, you had the chance to make her life a living hell. All you had to do was place the three plus four from your deck and you would double Tara’s deck in size and be one more card away from Uno.

You made a decision.

“Plus four,” you gloated regarding the single plus four you placed down.

“Damn it!” Tara made sure to glare at you while she picked up her four cards. “Just wait, you’ll see. I’m going to make my comeback.” 

“Whatever you say,” you said in a doubtful tone. As Tara silently cursed to herself while flipping through her deck in frustration, you couldn’t help but stare fondly at the girl. She always had a competitiveness to her that you couldn’t help but respect. It was kind of cute.

After another seven minutes, it came down to just two people; you and Tara. You sat from across each other, debating your next play while one taunted the other.

“You know you’re going down, right?”

Tara laughed at your words. “You have at least ten cards, I just have two more turns and I’ll be following through with wiping the floor with your ass.”

“Oh, yeah?” You said, unintentionally with a come hither voice. You leaned in, your voice lowering but the tone still the same as you spoke to her. “You keep that energy, Carpenter.”

Tara's face suddenly grew warm, her stomach enveloping with butterflies as your voice crashed against her ears. You leaned back against the couch, looking at your own cards as it was Tara’s turn now. 

Shit, you were in her head now. You totally did that on purpose, you had to. And what a dick you were for that, you knew what you were doing—again, you had to be aware of your actions. You must know the stupid feeling you give her, the way her stomach flips, how her legs turn to jello when you call for her. No. Focus. Come on, Tara. Lock in. Wipe the floor.

She cleared her throat, blinking down at her cards while processing them. It took a moment for it to click before she tapped back into her competitiveness and slammed down a card. “Uno! Plus four—suck on that!” Now she had just one card remaining in her hand, just one more turn and she would be victorious.

You smiled at her, your head tilted a bit as your eyes lit at the sign of her celebrating. She calmed herself down, feigning a calm demeanor. “Alright, it's your turn.”

You sighed. Well it was fun while it lasted, you enjoyed playing with Tara. It was entertaining. It’s nice playing with someone who can handle your competitiveness. “Uno, uno out,” you said while putting down your entire deck. You sat in your spot, looking at Tara with a shit-eating smirk with your hands folded together as Tara sat there dumbfounded.

“That’s—what, no, wait,” she furrowed her eyebrows as she rummaged through the cards you just placed. They were all green sevens. All of them. “How’d you—”

“Chin up, honey,” you teased, winking at her

“Oh you’re a real piece of work.” She shot up from her seat as she rushed over to a nearby closet. Your eyes followed her movements as you raised your eyebrows at her sudden actions. 

“You two finally finished?” Mindy asked but was ignored by the other girl. “What are you doing with that—can you like stop ignoring me?” Tara returned with a box of Jenga in her hand and the others trailing behind her. 

“I’m too tired to play Jenga,” Chad said.

“Good thing you’re not.” She now looked to address you, “You, me, Jenga—now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” was all you said as she immediately began setting everything up.

“What’s this about?” Anika asked you.

“Oh, I beat her ass in Uno—graciously so—and she’s being petty about it,” you shrugged.

“I am not being petty, I am unsatisfied. Seriously—how do you win with all green sevens?! Ugh, never mind that. We’re playing this and I’m going to hold out on my promise.”

“Of wiping the floor with my ass?”

“Exactly.”

“Woman of her word,” you say while getting comfortable in your spot.

Mindy, Anika, and Chad watched from the sidelines as you and Tara went at it in Jenga. There were many, many close calls, and few times where the other nearly flipped a table. You both tried to get into the other’s head while the other was sliding out their pieces, but so far no mistakes. But the tower was growing wobbly, it was getting late, and it was only a matter of time before that tower fell over. Now, it was simply a matter of who would make it come to that.

It was Tara’s turn, and there were not many places left for her to take from so she was forced to resort to an incredibly risky spot. You took this as another opportunity to mess with her. “Hey, Tar?”

“Kind of busy here,” she said—the block just halfway out. 

“Will you marry me?” You casually inquired.

Tara’s eyes widened and her eyebrows jumped in surprise. Her hand immediately faltered, dropping her piece as the tower came crashing down. Her mouth opened and closed, her stare averting back and forth from you and the fallen tower; she didn't even know where to begin. 

The others just remained on the sidelines, completely entertained by what was unfolding in front of them.

“Is that… a no?” Your eyes were almost pleading as you continued to taunt the girl, your millionth smirk that night threatened to show itself. 

“I’m going to kill you,” Tara responded as she squeezed her eyes shut, still processing what just happened.

“Not before the honeymoon,” you quipped. Chad, Mindy, and Anika could now be heard laughing, no longer able to hold it in.

“You can’t just—” She shut her mouth out of frustration, settling for narrowing her eyes at you.

“I can’t just what, sweetie? Come on, use your words.” Oh, this was fun. 

Suddenly you got a pillow to the face which only made it funnier, to you at least. “You owe me a rematch, cheater!” 

“Excuse me, I didn’t cheat. You messed up on your own devices,” you said while patting down the pillow and putting it to the side.

“You know what you did,” she said with bitterness laced in her voice. 

“I don’t, so how about you tell me? Tell me how exactly my words affected you; you know, so I can prevent myself from accidentally cheating next time.” You never broke eye contact with Tara; you enjoyed how much she was squirming thanks to you, maybe you enjoyed it a little too much.

“Next time?” 

“You wanna rematch, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do.” This whole interaction had Tara blushing; she needed to leave, like right now. “How about I get back to you in 5-7 business days? Sounds good? Cool. Well, it’s late and Chad’s my ride so we should probably head home, right Chad?” Her words were rushed which made you raise an eyebrow at the sudden change. 

“Hm? Oh sure, I’ll just get my keys and stuff and we can go,” Chad said before going to get his belongings.

“So, I’ll see you around—buddy,” she awkwardly punched your arm in a playful manner.

“Um, yeah, buddy. See you around,” you chuckled at her awkwardness.

“I’m still expecting an answer though!” You called out as she made her way to the front door.

“5-7 business days!” She repeated back to you.

“I’m holding you to that!”

-----------

A/N: well that escalated, gosh, keep it in your pants R! 😦

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax@andsoigotabutterfly @ajortga

[woniehugs]

The Touch of Extinction

—✧ summary: in a future plagued by a deadly virus, scientist Y/N is unexpectedly paired with the enigmatic government official, Lee Heeseung, as they work to save a fractured continent. What begins as a mission for survival transforms into an intense, forbidden connection, only to be shattered when Heeseung’s own secrets come to light. With danger lurking and time running out, the truth behind their mission and their connection unravels in ways neither could foresee. Will their shared sacrifice be enough to leave a lasting mark on the world they tried to save? This isn’t a love story, it’s a story about love.

—✧ pairing: lee heeseung x fem! reader

—✧ genre: dystopia, futuristic fiction, not really romance

—✧ warnings: mentions of blood and abuse (only brief), non-consensual sex, let me know if i missed anything!

—✧ word count: 4.3k

—✧ author’s note: putting this out here in the meantime because i’m not finished writing the next chapter for “operation: fuck sim jaeyun” yet. i wrote this for a school project, and no, i didn’t actually use y/n and heeseung’s names lmao. and also, this is actually inspired by the handmaid’s tail and manacled, so if you’re familiar of those, you’ll know.

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════

Who would’ve thought the future would end up like this? We could never have predicted that life would slowly cease to exist.

50 years ago, in the country of Netherlands, a group of young and intelligent scientists from BioCorp worked on experiments that focused on enhancing human genetics. After much hard work, they had made vast progress, thanks to the advancement of technology over the years and took a week-long break to celebrate Christmas. However, during a hazy night on the 24th of December, the night of Christmas Eve, one of the scientists had gone inside the laboratory that contained their equipment and supplies, completely out of their mind— drunk. The scientist had accidentally knocked one of the containers used in their experiments, breaking each flask containing what seemed to him as “mystery fluid” and spilling it all over the laboratory floor.

Knocked backed into consciousness realizing what he had spilt, he panicked, and tried to clean it up before it could contaminate the entire room, but because of the state he was in, the broken flasks and test fluids had caught onto his dazed and drunken state, causing the scientist to drop on the floor, unconscious. It took 12 hours until the whole building was contaminated due to the open vents, notifying security and the other scientists about the situation.

Luckily, the scientist woke up the next day, completely healthy and well, which was a surprise. Authorities had brought him to the hospital, along with his colleagues who waited for him to wake up. While the other scientists continued working on the experiments a week after Christmas, they were stopped by the news of another colleague’s sudden death in the comfort of their own home, exactly a month after the laboratory incident. Days after, the scientist’s own wife was laid to rest on her deathbed, a month after she had made contact with her husband who had gone home from the hospital. This prompted BioCorp into a mass crisis. Taking multiple hours of rigorous research, studying, and hypothesizing, the scientists discovered that the incident had caused a new infectious virus to erupt. …Infectious, how? With the knowledge of the deaths of the scientist and his wife, the scientists concluded that the virus was transmitted by skin-to-skin touch and that the virus’s effect didn’t accelerate despite how much one has touched another infected person.

By the time the scientists had made this horrible discovery, hundreds and thousands of people had died in the lower parts of Europe. The virus had spread rapidly, with no one knowing who had it or didn’t. There weren't any symptoms showing and one could only know they had caught the virus when they had taken their final breath. The moment the Dutch government was made aware of this tragedy, they took in scientists from BioCorp, while in the meantime, putting the whole country on lockdown to protect the people from the virus and could conjure a cure. They supplied the scientists with everything they needed for their research, but as they did so, many Europeans died at their expense, the number of deaths increasing with every single day that passed. Choked up by guilt, the scientists persevered, but even so, they still had little knowledge of what they could do to solve the pandemic they had caused, and some died never seeing the day they could fix this mess.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, the European population dropped to an all-time low. Due to the pandemic, the continent of Europe was divided into two: the Eastern and Western Parts. A boundary was placed, dividing the Netherlands, Germany, France, Italy, and more countries in the eastern part, from the entire western part of Europe. A military base was placed upfront on the boundary to prevent anyone from trespassing. This sent the Netherlands government into turmoil, as the situation had not been handled well years prior, affecting their neighboring countries, most especially their own population.

The division wasn’t enough to make anything but a benefit. Soon, the governments of each country worked together and came up with a repopulation effort, a program attempting to revive the dying population. Women, from the lower class, and the ones who are single will be assigned to men and will bear children for them. Whether the men have wives and children is out of the question, they will still have to participate in the program. They will be monitored frequently by authorities if they have done the job, if not, a punishment shall be done. The selected women were quarantined in a prison-like building, yet still being fed well. However, because of how many of them were trying to escape the hell they had to go through, having to bear children they didn’t want with men they didn’t even know, the government grew strict and eventually became a totalitarian regime. For all the women, it was hell on Earth.

Y/N L/N, the daughter of one of the scientists who took part in the failed experiment, and followed in the footsteps of her parents, happened to be a part of the selected women for the repopulation program. With your last name at the forefront of people’s minds, “the daughter of one of those evil scientists who caused this animosity”, you get assigned to one of the higher-ranking government officials in Europe.

On your first meeting, you had been dragged by the authorities, hair secured in a bun at the base of your neck, wrists manacled behind your back, lip busted, one of your cheeks bruised purple, and your face bloody fighting off the authorities. You wore a robe as white as snow, streaks of your blood painted the areas near your waist, a skirt spreading down to your feet, and long sleeves covering your entire arms.

Screaming at the top of your lungs to let you go, the authorities pushed you until you fell to the ground, your face first hitting the ground with a loud crack. You heard the door close behind you, clicking with a lock as you groaned in pain, tears falling down her face. As you slowly tried to stand up from the ground, you hear a chair creak, someone standing up from their seat. You look up, coming face to face with the man you had to endure. Lee Heeseung, the son of the prime minister of the Netherlands. He had an unreadable look on his face, his eyes dark as he examined you carefully, looking you up and down. Filled with disdain, you gathered enough saliva and spat at his feet, a drop of spit landing perfectly on his polished shoe.

Before you could get any more disrespectful, you were brought up to your feet, Heeseung’s hand gripping your forearm as you yelped in pain. Dragging you across the room, he turned you around and pushed your body down on his desk, pressing your manacled wrists behind your back with one hand. You struggled to get out of his grip, trying to kick him but to no avail. He was too strong, and so much taller than you. You feel tears prickle on the corners of your eyes, one side of your face scraping against the wood of the table.

With your eyes shut, Get this over and done with, you think to yourself, hope slowly leaving your body as you count down the seconds until he is done with you. Barely 5 minutes had passed until he stopped moving, and as swift as a fox, backed away from you. You felt your wrists free from the manacles, and planted your palms on the table, slowly guiding yourself to stand up and turn to face him, but before you could utter a word to him, he was gone. Uncontrollable tears fell from your face then. You felt pain, disgusted, and used. Your whole world had been reduced to a room where you’d be forced to do things you didn’t want to do, and that hurt you. You could do better things than this. But no. For now, you fall back down on the ground, your body sprawled out on the floor as sleep takes you in.

You wake up the next day on a bed and in a room you don’t recognize. This wasn’t where I was yesterday, you think to yourself. Looking to your left, you see a doctor scribbling on his notebook with medical equipment laid out on a small table on top of the bed. The doctor notices you, a sad smile on his face, “How are you feeling, dear? You passed out on the floor yesterday and Mr. Lee had to carry you to your bed.”

Confused, you shake your head, “After being forced to do things against my will? Yes, I believe I’m feeling a lot better.” The doctor lets out a sigh, letting you drink your medicine before leaving your room quietly. You take in your room. It was huge and filled with everything she needed to survive this hellhole. Keeping yourself busy, you took a shower, changed into clean clothes, and read. There was a long shelf of books at the side of the room, so you grabbed everything that caught your eye. You read, and read, and read until you couldn’t anymore.

Food was served by two maids during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When you asked if you could get out of your room, one of the maids answered that you needed to rest and could only get out the next day as said by their master. Rolling your eyes, you nodded your head, grabbed the dinner from their hands, and sat back on the bed. As you ate, you thought about how grateful you were that Heeseung hadn’t gone into your room and took advantage of you again. Peacefully, sleep takes you in once again when you finished eating.

The third day. “It’s not so bad here”, you think — yet. While you ate breakfast on your bed, the door opened. Your eyes looked up to see Heeseung close the door behind him. You feel your heart race, dropping the utensils on the plate. The sound catches Heeseung’s attention, quickly looking at you to see what’s wrong. He takes a few steps towards you but you raise a hand to stop him. “N-not yet.” you managed to speak out despite your voice and hands shaking. Heeseung shakes his hand, and continues his way toward you, “I’m not here for that. Not this early, at least.” Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you nod at him in relief, picking your utensils up to continue eating. You feel his eyes on you the entire time, hands trembling.

“I wanted to let you know that you can come out of your room now, anytime you want.” Heeseung starts, “However, I expect that you’ll be back here by 6 pm. I have duties I need to attend to later that night, so we’ll have to…” he clears his throat to get his point across, “...do it, before I leave. Is that okay?”

“It’s not like I have a choice. You’ll do it anyway.” you hear his breath catch at that.

“How frequently does this have to happen?”

“Once every two days.”

“What? Who do they think we are? Rabbits?” you try to joke but Heeseung’s face remains expressionless. “I have something to ask from you. It’s the least you can do for, erm… me.” You cringe at your words but proceeds nonetheless when Heeseung doesn’t say anything. “I need a laptop so I can research, and books and studies on anything that could help me on knowing more about this virus. I can’t not do anything here but bear your children, the thought disgusts me as it is.” you explain, your tone desperate. “That’s all I ask for. I’ll do anything you wish, just let me continue my research. Please.”

Heeseung nods his head, “Of course. I’ll provide you with everything you need.” you thank him. He hesitates for a bit before returning to the door, about to leave. Before he does, he looks back at you, “I apologize for how I acted before. I had just been made known about you that day, and I acted… out of remorse. I’m sorry.” you nod your head at his apology, “It’s quite alright. I acted irrationally too. I was scared.”

“We all are, aren’t we?” Heeseung replies, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. “Let me know if you need any help with your research. I’ll see you tonight.” The door shuts close behind him, leaving you alone in your room. That night, Heeseung visits you in your room, only this time, he acts gently and — you let him. Your business was finished as quickly as it had started. When you fall asleep in his arms, he carefully positions you back on the bed, covering you with a blanket, and delicately pats your forehead. Once Heeseung is sure that you are deep into your slumber, he leaves.

You immediately rise from your bed to start your fourth day with some research. A stab of pain erupts from your abdomen, making you groan in pain. You slowly get up on your feet, to the chair in front of the desk placed on the right side of the room. The moment you sat, you noticed a stack of books placed neatly on the table and your very own laptop that you were sure you left behind at home. You smiled at the effort that Heeseung had put into making sure you had everything you needed. Shaking your head, you began as you took a bite of mango and chocolate toast specially made for you. Hours passed and you were able to read most of the information you had already known: about the incident years ago, the non-existent symptoms, the lockdown, your parents along with other scientists locked away and dead, and the division. Searching on the Internet, most of the articles you came across were more on people’s predictions and not based on scientific evidence. That was all you did that day. Research, read, study, and make your hypotheses. — Why aren’t there any symptoms? you think to yourself. It was the most bizarre thing you had known, it was a virus with no symptoms. No wonder everyone was dying around you because, to this day, no one had found the answer to that question.

“I see you’re still up.” A voice interrupts you from your reading, dropping your highlighter on the book she was reading about viruses. You had been so distracted you didn’t even hear Heeseung enter your room in the first place. “I can’t seem to figure this out on my own. I’ve been reading for hours.” you answer, rubbing your temples with the pads of your thumbs. Heeseung hums behind you, taking a peek at what you were reading. “What I’m about to tell you might help.” you turn your head to him, “I’ve been feeling some strange sensations. My head’s been feeling light since yesterday. I’ve taken some painkillers but it doesn’t seem to go away.”

Your eyes widened in shock, “A-are you implying you’ve caught the virus?” Heeseung shakes his head, “No, or wait, maybe a little. I’m not so sure honestly. But seriously, anyone could have caught the virus by now, even indoors. We’ve also already made skin-to-skin contact. Shouldn’t we not be surprised about that possibility?” You think carefully before answering him, “I’ve never thought about that, but you’re right. Anything could happen.” But I don’t want any of us to die. A few moments pass before you clap your hands together, bringing Heeseung’s attention back to you, “You’re right. I’ll keep that in mind, just in case, however, it doesn’t mean you have the virus.” you send him a look that makes Heeseung sigh, “Right, but I just thought I should tell you.”

“And you didn’t do anything wrong by telling me. I appreciate it, Heeseung. Really.” you assure him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Heeseung looks you dead in the eyes when you do, and you quickly put your hand away once you realize. “Right. It’s getting late. You should be going. I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight.” Heeseung didn’t end up leaving you that night, and it wasn’t entirely his choice. He stayed with you until you fell asleep on your desk, and he carried you once again over to her bed. Half-asleep, you manage to pull Heeseung towards you, whispering “Stay with me.” and Heeseung does, falling asleep next to you.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of soft breathing beside you. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before realizing Heeseung was still in bed with you. The realization brought a mix of emotions—confusion, and fear, but also a strange comfort you hadn’t expected. You gently removed yourself from his embrace, careful not to wake him, and moved to the desk where you had been working the night before. Your thoughts were swirling with everything Heeseung had revealed to you. His admission about the strange sensations he had been feeling gnawed at you. If he was indeed showing symptoms, this could be the breakthrough you had been desperately searching for—a lead that could explain the virus’s behavior. You needed to gather more data. If Heeseung truly was infected, how much time did he have left? How much time did you have left? If Heeseung was infected, then that would mean you were too. You both didn’t have much time left.

You pulled up a document on your laptop and began typing down everything you remembered from Heeseung’s account. You noted the onset of his symptoms, their progression, and any possible environmental factors that might have contributed to his condition. If you were going to make any progress, you needed to treat this as a case study—methodical, detached, and purely scientific. The hours slipped by, and when Heeseung finally stirred, you had already compiled a preliminary report. You turned to him as he sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair. His expression was unreadable as he glanced at the clock, noting the late hour.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, trying to keep her voice steady. Heeseung frowned slightly as if considering the question. "A little better, I suppose. The lightheadedness hasn’t completely gone away, but it’s manageable. Why? Are you worried about me?"

You hesitated. "I’m just trying to understand what’s happening. If you’re showing symptoms,” You hesitate finishing your sentence, “...if I’m showing symptoms, it could be critical information for my research. But more importantly, I don’t want anything to happen to you."

Heeseung’s eyes widened at your words. "You think you’ve caught it too?” you nod your head, “It’s plausible since we’ve been together… for the past few days.” You cringe at your choice of words, “So it’s best that I entertain the possibility. If we both don’t have much time, we should stay here until we’ve figured this out. Together.”

His gaze softened, “I agree. I appreciate what you’re doing. I didn’t expect you to care so much, given the circumstances."

You shrugged your shoulders, "I may not have a choice in this situation, but that doesn’t mean I’m heartless. We’re both victims of a system neither of us controls." He looked away, a muscle in his jaw tightening.

"The world has gone mad, hasn’t it? People reduced to numbers, in a repopulation program, and those responsible for the mess are either dead or hiding behind closed doors." You sighed, feeling the weight of his words. "We’re trying to survive in a world we barely recognize anymore. But if there’s even a chance that what we’re experiencing could lead to a solution, we have to pursue it." Heeseung nodded slowly. "Then let’s work together on this. If we’re both infected, we need to know how it’s progressing and what we can do to stop it … if anything."

Over the next few days, you and Heeseung settled into a strange routine. During the day, you focused on your research, cataloging Heeseung’s symptoms with clinical precision, while also poring over your parents’ old notes and the limited data available on the virus. Heeseung made sure you had everything you needed, from medical supplies to access to secure networks that could aid your research. At night, you did what you had to. The only difference is that afterward, the two of you shared a bed, a tenuous bond formed out of necessity, and a growing, unspoken understanding.

Heeseung continues to visit you daily, and with every visit, you sense that he is hiding something. There’s a restlessness in his eyes, a kind of weight that he carries with him each time he steps into your room. One night, as he sits at the edge of the bed, a quiet question slips from your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Why are you doing this, Heeseung? Why did you bring me all these things when you could have just kept me locked away like the others?”

He looks at you, a flicker of something like regret in his gaze. “Because, Y/N… I owe it to you. I owe it to everyone who’s been affected by this virus. My father and his colleagues may have failed, but I… I won’t. If there’s any chance you could help find a cure… I’ll give you everything you need.”

His words stir something deep inside you. You can’t decide whether it’s hope, resentment, or both. You’re still unsure whether to trust him, but as days turn into weeks, you notice a subtle shift in the way you interact. There’s a tension that lingers between you, unspoken but palpable—a tension that is not entirely borne of fear or obligation.

As time goes on, you and Heeseung start to talk more. He tells you about his childhood, about his strained relationship with his father, about the weight of expectations that had always loomed over him. It’s not much, but it’s enough to remind you that, like you, he’s just a person caught up in the chaos of a world turned upside down.

One evening, as you sit together in silence, you find yourself blurting out, “What if this virus can’t be stopped? What if we’re all just… delaying the inevitable?”

He meets your eyes, his voice soft. “Then we fight it anyway. Because that’s all we can do, Y/N. We fight until there’s nothing left to fight for.”

You don’t respond, but his words echo in your mind long after he’s left the room.

The next evening, as you sat together, you noticed a slight tremor in Heeseung’s hand as he passed you a cup of tea. Your heart sank, but you kept your expression neutral. "Heeseung," you said softly, "Have you felt any other changes? Anything new?" He shook his head, setting the cup down with more care than usual. "Just the tremor. It started yesterday, but it’s not too bad. I can still control it for the most part." You bit her lip, your mind racing. "We need to accelerate our research. If the virus is progressing, we’re running out of time." Heeseung nodded, his expression grim. "I’m with you, Y/N. Whatever it takes."

Weeks pass, and the once suffocating atmosphere of your confinement begins to change. The tension between you and Heeseung continues to grow, evolving into something more complex. Conversations that once revolved around the virus and research now include moments of shared silence, subtle glances, and small admissions. There’s an unspoken understanding between you, as if the mere act of surviving together has created a fragile bond. You can sense that he’s struggling with something more than just the weight of the world outside—something personal that he hasn’t yet shared.

Days after, the usual routine is disrupted when Heeseung arrives later than usual, his expression troubled and distant. You notice his hands shaking as he sets down a tray of food. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, he steps closer, his voice low and strained.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Y/N. It’s… it’s about the virus.”

Your pulse quickens as you watch him take a seat across from you, his head bowed as if weighed down by a burden he can no longer carry alone.

“My father wasn’t just one of the researchers involved,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “He was one of the first to become infected. They kept it a secret, covered it up because of his position, and… they used him as a test subject for the early trials of the cure.”

The revelation hits you like a cold wave, leaving you speechless. The pieces begin to fall into place—the rushed experiments, the hidden agendas, the urgency in Heeseung’s actions. You feel a pang of anger for being kept in the dark, but it’s quickly swallowed by an unexpected sense of empathy. Heeseung’s determination to find a cure isn’t just about the greater good; it’s personal.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you ask, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and understanding.

“I didn’t know how,” he admits, his gaze finally meeting yours. “And… I didn’t want you to think that I was using you for the same reasons they used him.”

For a moment, the room is silent. You look at Heeseung, seeing the torment in his eyes and recognizing a kind of vulnerability that you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge before. It’s as though, in sharing his secret, he’s offered you a glimpse of the person he is beyond the government official, beyond the virus. And perhaps, you realize, it’s the same for you. This whole time, you’ve been hiding behind the walls you built around yourself to survive, afraid to let him see the parts of you that long for connection in this cold, fragmented world.

“You could have told me,” you say softly. “I would have understood.”

Heeseung gives a faint, bitter smile. “I didn’t know if I could trust you to understand, or if you would see me as just another monster.”

Before you can respond, a wave of emotion sweeps over you, and without thinking, you reach out and touch his hand. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough to break down whatever was left of the barrier between you. His fingers curl around yours hesitantly, as if he’s not quite sure if he should accept the comfort you’re offering, but then his grip tightens, and you realize just how much he needed it.

The days that follow are marked by an unspoken shift in your dynamic. The tension that once existed has transformed into a closeness that you’re both wary to acknowledge, and yet neither of you can deny. When he’s with you, the air feels warmer, the silence less suffocating. But in the back of your mind, you know this fragile connection is built upon the uncertainty of a world ravaged by disease—a world that could take everything away in a heartbeat.

It’s in this closeness that you begin to notice Heeseung showing signs of fatigue. He tries to hide it, but you see the subtle winces, the way his hand trembles when he thinks you’re not looking. The truth becomes impossible to ignore when, one night, he collapses in front of you, a fever burning through his skin.

“Heeseung!” you cry, rushing to his side. As you help him to the bed, the realization hits you with a brutal clarity—he’s infected.

The weight of the situation crashes down on you like a tidal wave. Everything you’ve come to understand, every unspoken moment between you, is now overshadowed by the one thing you feared most. Heeseung is dying, and you don’t know if there’s any way to save him.

The next few weeks were a blur of research, testing, and increasingly frequent moments of quiet despair. You were relentless, pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion as you combed through every piece of data you could find. You reached out to the few remaining scientists who had survived the initial outbreak, sharing your findings and seeking their input. But the virus remained an enigma, its origin rooted in the nightmarish accident that had taken place decades ago. The more you learned, the more you realized how little you knew, and how close you all were to the edge.

As Heeseung’s condition worsened, you felt a growing sense of urgency. The lightheadedness had evolved into dizziness, the tremors into violent shakes that left him bedridden for hours. You continued to document everything, but your fear for him, something you had tried to keep at bay—began to overshadow your scientific detachment.

Then, one night, as Heeseung lay in bed, his breathing labored and his skin pale, he reached for your hand. You took it, feeling the tremor in his grip, and held on tightly.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Don’t be," you replied, your throat tight with unshed tears. "We’re doing everything we can."

He managed a weak smile. "I know. But if this is it...if this is the end...I want you to know that I don’t regret these last few weeks. I’m glad we met, even if it was under these circumstances."

You swallowed hard, unable to find the words to respond. Instead, you leaned in and kissed his forehead, your tears finally spilling over, with Heeseung sharing an embrace.

"I’ll keep fighting," you promised. "For you, and everyone else. I won’t let this be in vain."

Heeseung closed his eyes, his hand tightening briefly around hers. "I know you will."

In the early hours of the morning, Lee Heeseung took his final breath. You stayed by his side, holding his hand until it grew cold. When the sun rose, you gently released him and began writing down the final stages of his symptoms, your tears blurring the words on the page.

Two days later, your symptoms began to manifest. You felt the same lightheadedness Heeseung had described, followed by the tremors. But you didn’t stop working. Every moment you had left was dedicated to your research, to the hope that your final notes might contain the key to stopping the virus.

When the end came for you, it was peaceful. You had finished your last entry, detailing the progression of the virus within yourself, and had left instructions for the remaining scientists on where to find your work. You lay down on the bed you had shared with Heeseung and closed your eyes, a sense of calm washing over you.

Your body was discovered a day later by the authorities, just as Heeseung’s had been. The room was quiet, save for the hum of the laptop that still displayed your final research notes.

On the desk, beside the neatly stacked books and papers, laid a single handwritten note:

"To whoever finds this, remember us not just for what we did, but for what we tried to do. The virus may have taken our lives, but it will not take our legacy. The answers are here. Please, finish what we started.”

Signed,

Y/N L/N

And with that, Y/N L/N and Lee Heeseung’s story came to an end, but their fight continued on in the hands of those who followed.

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════

©2024 ©woniehugs

[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 5

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: I thought about breaking up this chapter into two parts, but for some reason it didn’t feel right. I hope you enjoy the finale! I think this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for…

Word Count: 7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, ‘90s movie reference, mutual pining and tension, and a strong dose of smut.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 5: “Damn Worth It”

You borrowed Russell’s cell to call Dory from the hospital. You let her know that Charlie was stable and resting, and that Russell was bringing you home.

You should’ve known that when you two got there, you wouldn’t have the kind of privacy you craved. Colter and Dory were waiting in his car, parked in your driveway. They met you in front of your house, where Dory pulled you into a big, swaying hug. She cried, you cried, and her brothers hung back to watch the warm scene.

Dory pulled back to get a better look at you. She hesitated to touch the bandage above your brow.

“God. Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you sniffed, wiping at your face. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Dory actually had your keys. After she handed them to you, you took in a steadying breath, and you unlocked your front door without incident this time. You invited everyone in.

Even though you told her not to, Dory began straightening up a bit for you. She had Russell take out the trash while she washed the dishes.

Meanwhile, you pulled Colter aside in the living room. You led him to sit with you on the couch.

“Can I at least give you $1,000?” you asked. It was all you had left in your savings, but the man had literally saved your brother's life, and yours as well. “I know it’s not much, compared to what your jobs usually get you—”

“Please,” Colter said. He touched your arm. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you and Charlie are safe.”

You teared up all over again, but you gave him a smile and held his hand with both of yours.

“Thank you,” you said.

Russell happened to spot the cozy little scene from the doorway. He couldn’t help staring, and trying not to frown.

When Colter caught sight of his brother loitering (and that look on his face), Colter tried to hide most of his smile. He let go of your hand, patted your shoulder and stood. You followed him to the kitchen, where he went to check on Dory. Russell filtered in behind you both.

“Hey, wanna grab some lunch?” Colter asked his sister.

She gave him a raised brow. “Wow, my brother actually wants to hang out with me instead of rushing off to the next job?”

He gave her an amused look. “I’ve got some time.”

Dory was happy to hear that, but her expression dimmed when she turned to you.

“Would you want to go? Or do you need to rest?” she asked.

“Oh, I need to get cleaned up, and then sleep for about ten years,” you said. “But you go, D. Have fun.”

She frowned. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.”

“Well, she won’t be,” Russell chimed in. “I’m gonna hang out here for a bit, clean up and take little power nap myself.”

At that, Dory slowly smiled, both amused and suspicious. Her gaze slid back to you.

“Are you sure?” she asked. You read the double meaning laced in her tone.

“Yeah, definitely,” you said with a smile, and the beginnings of a warm blush. “You guys go ahead.”

There was a knowing gleam to her own smile, but Dory shrugged and gave you one last hug. She and Colter said their goodbyes to their older brother before they headed out. It left you alone in the house with Russell for the first time since this all began.

“Um, you can use the guest bathroom if you want to shower,” you told him. “Towels are under the sink, and feel free to borrow any of Charlie’s clothes if you need.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got a bag in the car with some stuff,” Russell said, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “I take one wherever I go.”

“Smart,” you nodded. “Very prepared.”

A strange silence stretched between you two, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m just…gonna go clean up,” you said. “We can order some food after?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he said. He was amused as he watched you scurry off, after giving him another smile over your shoulder.

Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a small trill of nerves himself. It brought him a little bounce in his step as he headed out to his car to grab his stuff.

By the time you were done showering and drying your hair, Russell had ordered a pizza (and a side of fries). You padded out into the living room in an old college shirt and pajama shorts. He tried not to linger his gaze on your smooth, bare legs. 

“Sorry, forgot to ask if you’d want something else to eat,” he said. 

“Pizza is perfect,” you said. At this point, after almost a full day without food, you’d eat sliced bread out of the bag. You gave him a teasing look. “I’d ask you if you wanted a beer, but I’m afraid it’s not up to your standard.”

“Well, that’s okay. I happen to have brought a sample for you, just like I promised,” he said, with that grin of his you’d come to expect.

He retrieved a case of homebrew from his car, but you had to add some ice cubes into a tall glass before you joined him back on the couch. You poured the contents of a bottle into the glass.

“Sorry, I know this is sacrilege, but I can’t drink warm beer,” you said.

“I can’t fault you, though I didn’t really peg you for a pizza and beer kind of girl,” he said. He tipped a swig of beer into his mouth, right from a lukewarm bottle. He was a purist.

You quirked a brow at him and took another bite of your pizza slice. 

“Why not?” you asked, after swallowing a mouthful of pepperoni and mushroom.

Russell shrugged. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“No, no. I want to hear this,” you said. “What, because I teach college students?”

Russell looked over at you and leaned on his elbow, resting above his knee. 

“You’re a college professor with a handful of degrees,” he said. “I’ve got a GED and a give ‘em hell outlook on life.”

You shook your head at that. 

“We’re different. That’s not a bad thing,” you said. “And like my brother, you’ve fought for this country. You’ve saved lives, including mine. I’d say that’s pretty damn special.”

His head tilted at that. He didn’t want to remind you that, just like you saw today, he’d taken lives too. Perhaps just as many as he’d saved. You could debate the quality of those lives, but in the grand scheme of things, he knew what he was. A trained killer.

He rolled his shoulders, feeling a familiar weight.

You didn’t like the pensive look on his face, so you aimed to distract him.

“Want to watch a movie?” you suggested.

Russell inclined his head. “Sure. What you got?”

That was how the two of you ended up finishing the box of pizza and a case of beer while laughing at Tommy Boy, of all things—one of the best '90s buddy road trip comedies of all time. Apparently Russell had never seen it before, but you enjoyed watching him experience it for the first time. He had a deep, infectious laugh that made you laugh just by proximity. 

Later in the movie, the reluctant, unlikely duo of Tommy and Richard hit a deer, and tried to transport it in the car. Russell both laughed and cringed when the animal woke up and thoroughly wrecked the car from the inside. You noticed his reaction and nudged him in the arm. 

Russell held in a grunt of pain when you unintentionally hit his injured shoulder, bandaged underneath his gray henley. 

“What if that was the Chevelle,” you teased. 

He cast you a playfully chiding look. “Woman, don’t even joke.”

You laughed and squeezed his forearm in a friendly gesture. But he thought there was more than just friendliness when you shot him that little smile. He decided to take a chance. 

“Come ‘ere,” he said. He slid a hand around your waist and guided you closer until you came to lay against his side. You allowed yourself to rest against him, splaying your hand flat against the firm wall of his chest. Your heart tripped up faster, but you also relaxed more fully for the first time since you got home. You let out a long breath, and you used the remote to lower the volume on the movie a little.

“Do you think Charlie will be able to get past this?” you asked quietly. “Think he’ll be okay?”

Russell hummed as he thought back to his conversation with your brother in the hospital. Charlie was still young, but he seemed to realize what he’d done, and what he needed to change. He wouldn’t have volunteered himself for rehab if he hadn’t.

Russell brushed your arm with his thumb. “Well, I think he knows what he needs to do. If he’s anything like you, then he’ll be all right.”

Your mouth tugged upward, though you considered his words with a sigh.

“He hasn’t had it easy,” you said. “He was barely eighteen when our parents died. Suddenly he had to be an adult. In fact, he almost didn’t finish high school. Had to take care of the funeral, had to get a job, had to take care of me…and I didn’t always make it easy on him.”

Russell’s lips curved in light of your faint smile. Then, your expression dimmed.

“He pulled me out of the car,” you admitted. Russell looked down at you.

“You all were there?” he asked. 

“My dad was driving. We’d just gone out to dinner as a family,” you said.

You hesitated as the scenes once again filtered through your mind. Some things were hazy. Others, you could see with perfect clarity. You remembered how your parents argued about the best way to get home while the pouring rain beat down overhead, half-drowning out their voices.

You remembered what the flash of a red stoplight looked like through the car window, with streams of water coming down, and a dead leaf stuck to the glass.

You remembered the sound of horns blaring in your ears, the crunch of metal on metal. Your mother’s scream. The feeling of being suspended, and then ricocheted painfully through time and space.

Then the smell of exhaust, and the metallic tang of blood.

“We were heading through a terrible storm,” you said, after letting out a long breath through your nose. “By the end of the night, it was just me and Charlie in the hospital.”

He’d broken his arm, but thanks to him, the only thing you really walked away with were a few cuts and bruises, and the memories of that day. They were like old scars, painful and tender at the touch.

Russell shook his head, his brows knitting together. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “And I’m sorry too. I know you understand what it’s like to lose a parent.”

The movie played on as that new weight settled between you. Russell fell into his own thoughts as he continued to rub your arm in comfort. His own past wasn’t like yours, but he did understand some of your pain.

“How much did Dory tell you about how we grew up?” he asked.

You shifted a bit, so you could see his face too.

“I know your dad took you all to a cabin in some sort of compound in the woods, when you all were still pretty young.”

“He taught us to live off the land. Drilled us, really,” Russell explained, noting your raised brows. “Yeah, he was…well, a paranoid bastard, to be frank. We still don’t know all of why, and what drove him to move us out there.”

“Dory said he was…eccentric,” you said. Russell snorted.

“He was a piece of fucking work,” he said. “Half the time I hated him, if I’m honest.”

That part was hard to admit, even if it was true. Your hand soothed across his chest, more comforting as you listened. Russell’s lips quirked. He liked that about you, that you were willing to listen without judging him, or his family. Maybe that was another reason Dory seemed to love you so much.

“But one night, it was like he snapped,” he said.

For a moment, he was lost in the memory. His father’s anger, and the damn crazy look in his eyes. 

“What happened?” you asked quietly.

Russell glanced at you again. “I don’t think you wanna hear this right now.”

You shook your head. “No, I do.”

He hesitated, but that earnest look in your eyes got him. Still, he surprised himself when he actually told you. He explained it the best he could, the way he saw it in his mind’s eye.

Their mom had been missing, hadn’t come home yet. Then his dad had torn around the house like a man possessed, until he told them it was time to leave for their own safety. Dory had been scared, especially when he grabbed her, yelled at her.

That was the one thing Russell couldn’t tolerate. So he snapped, yanking the older man back and shoving him away. It was one of the first times Russell had ever defied his father.

Ashton Shaw left them then, heading out into the night and the rain. Maybe he’d realized what he was doing to his own kids, his own family.

Colter wanted to follow after him, but Russell stopped him. Being the eldest, he took on the responsibility, even if he’d been reluctant. We’re better off without him…

He was barely sixteen at the time, but Russell knew he’d seen his father arguing with someone—a man he’d seen before, talking with his mother. And then…

“I watched him die that night,” Russell said.

Your hand clenched in his shirt, reminding him that you were still in his arms, still listening. He remembered that scene, looking over the cliff to find his father’s broken body down below. 

“He fell, and I couldn’t stop it,” he said. “And to this day, I still don’t know what all that was about.”

He’d been reluctant to tell even Colter that it still haunted him sometimes; that night, and the not knowing.

You pulled yourself up further so you could meet Russell’s gaze.

“I’m so sorry,” you said.

The movie had long faded into the background, but at least it gave some white noise for the next heavy beat that passed between you two. His eyes eventually fell away from yours.

“It’s old history,” Russell said at last.

“It’s not just history,” you denied softly. “It’s your life.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just hummed in agreement. He encouraged you to relax against him again, with a warm hand on your back. You settled and released another contented sigh. Even though Russell’s story weighed on your heart, you did feel closer to him. It made you feel like you understood Dory better too, and even Colter.

Russell rubbed your arm. “You doin’ okay? You’ve had a long day.”

“Day and night,” you agreed. Your eyes closed against your will. “But, yeah…I think I’m okay now.”

At that, he smiled. He laid a kiss on your forehead.

“Good,” he said.

A few minutes later, Russell heard your soft, deeper breaths in sleep. He chanced grabbing a throw blanket laid over the back of the couch. He managed to toss it over your body, but he made sure it covered you. You shifted in your sleep and curled up more comfortably against him. 

Russell smiled down on you fondly. He’d learned a hell of a lot more about you in just the past couple of days, but ever since he met you, he’d been picking up on the important things. The things that made you the woman you were.

And he wanted more, he realized. He wanted more time with you.

That turned out to be the last real thought he had before his eyes closed on him too. 

Russell didn’t wake again until the credits on the movie were rolling near the end. You were still knocked out. So he carried you, blanket and all, over to your bedroom.

He smelled the remnants of your floral shampoo and body wash in the air, likely coming from the bathroom. It was an intoxicating mix, one that had infiltrated his nose ever since you came out of the shower today. 

It was only 6:00 p.m., but it might as well have been midnight. He laid you down toward the middle of the bed. There was still space on the other side. Very tempting.

She did offer, he thought, remembering what you’d said at the hospital. And yet, he hesitated.

Before he could make a decision, you made it for him. Your hand reached out to hook in his shirt. 

Russell looked down at your sleepy smile. 

“Get over here,” you said, tugging him downward. He chuckled and wrapped his hand around yours. He allowed you to guide him over, and he somehow managed to roll onto the other side of the bed without crushing you. 

“Reflexes like a cat, I tell ya,” he quipped.

You giggled softly. He took off his first layer of defense (his pants), leaving him in his henley and boxer briefs. He settled into bed behind you and slipped an arm around your waist. He fit in snug against your back.

“Mmm,” he sighed. His lips pressed behind your ear, smiling there. “Feels nice.” 

“Mhmm,” you agreed.

He couldn’t see your smile, but you held his arm in place. For the first time in a while, you weren’t alone.

In the early morning, you woke up to warmth and closeness. The man in your bed snored lightly, mouth parted in sleep while he faced you. You smiled.

How could a man who felt dangerous, in more ways than one, also make you feel safe? It was a wonder. Though when an idea hit you, you carefully slid out of bed.

Russell eventually roused in his own time. He blinked awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stretched out his limbs in your very comfortable bed. This sure beat rusty motel springs.

He realized that he was alone in the room, but he heard you puttering around the house. He allowed himself to doze some more.

A few minutes later, you returned to greet him with a couple of mugs, drawing him back into the waking world with the rich smell of coffee.

“Aww yeah, that’s the stuff,” he said. He groaned as he slowly sat up.

You laughed and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he said. His voice was deeper and rougher with sleep, washing down your spine pleasantly.

He accepted the mug you offered him. He took a sip and hummed in pleasure at its bold flavor. It wasn’t as sweet as he usually liked it, but it was exactly what he needed right now.

“I just did a little sugar and creamer. That okay?” you asked. 

“It’s good,” he nodded. And you looked good, he noticed, with your bed-tousled hair and an open robe over your tank top and little shorts.  

“Do you want to meet Dory and Colter for breakfast?” you asked. “Dory texted me this morning.”

Russell’s brows shot up. 

“Colt stuck around?” he asked.

“Yeah, Dory asked him to stay at her place last night,” you said. Russell hummed in response. 

A bit of an awkward lull fell between you. You’d felt bolder yesterday in the hospital, but now, you weren’t entirely sure what you were doing with a man who just slept somewhat-but-not-altogether platonically in your bed.

“Um, I’ll just…get ready then,” you said, pointing to the bathroom. “You…take your time.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.”

He peeled back the covers and climbed out of your bed, away from the sheets that smelled like you. 

You watched him go when he headed across the hall back to Charlie’s room. You sighed and beat your hand against your own forehead in frustration. What the hell am I doing?

You’d literally invited him into your bed last night, but he hadn’t done anything more than hold you while you slept. It was incredibly kind, and it said a lot about him, despite his rough-around-the-edges exterior. You were just a little disappointed that he’d been a perfect gentleman about it all. 

You rolled your eyes at yourself. What did that say about you?

You shook your head and resolved to freshen up. There was still a cut that the ER nurse covered with a butterfly bandage above your brow. You cleaned it up and applied a new bandage. Then you put on some makeup to cover the ugly bruise on your cheek and the dark circles that lingered under your eyes.

God, look at me. You actually wouldn’t blame Russell for not being into you enough to make a move. 

A bit disheartened, you changed out of your pajamas to slip on a nice, but comfortable dress over your bra and underwear. Afterward, you paused to stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment. What exactly do you want here?

“Hey, uh—” Russell’s voice startled you, making you flinch. Maybe you were still jumpy.

He raised an apologetic hand. “Sorry. Just thought I’d ask if you want some toast or something. I don’t think my stomach can wait ‘til we meet up with Dory.”

You smiled faintly. “Sure, go ahead. Whatever’s there, you’re welcome to.”

Russell paused, tilting his head. There was something off with you. He saw it, and felt it. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away. 

Russell’s spidey senses began to tingle. He approached you and laid a hand on the counter, inches from yours. 

“You sure?” he said. He took in your hesitant face, then the pretty dress you had on. The color matched your eyes. Soulful eyes.

He smiled when you let him see them again.

“Can you see the bruises? I think I covered them up well enough,” you said. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror again, touching your jaw carefully. 

Russell’s hand raised to find your cheek, earning your attention with wider eyes. His thumb swept across your skin as you started to blush.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Your face warmed further, despite your smile. 

“Yeah, the makeup helps,” you quipped. 

“I didn’t say anything about makeup,” he replied. Though he grinned and made a show of looking closer at your face. “Although, have your lashes always been that damn long?”

You laughed, but he didn’t let go of you. Instead, his hand drifted down to your neck, cradling your jaw. His thumb brushed over your lower lip this time, smudging your lipstick a little. Your eyes met his, but they’d already lowered, to the path of his hand. You were tempted to nip at his thumb, or better yet, suck it into your mouth.

Perhaps he read the thought crossing your face. Because when those darkened eyes flicked up to yours, he finally bowed his head to kiss you.

You took in a deep breath, and you melted into his mouth with a moan of wanting. A craving from the depths of your heart, finally being fulfilled.

You didn’t let yourself think anymore. You gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. He cupped the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as he deepened the kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, and you let him in. You met his every kiss with the same fervor, claiming him right back, demanding just as much.

Your hands slid up his chest and helped him shrug off the green jacket first, then his shirt (Led Zeppelin this time). He hooked an arm around your waist and brought you flush against him, so he could turn you around and walk you back to the bed. 

You clung to his bare shoulders and savored the feeling of his warm, calloused hands burning up your thighs and ass, bunching the skirt of your dress. You helped him get it over your head and toss it onto the floor along with his clothes. 

As he held you by the waist, his gaze dipped for a moment to take you in, from bare thighs and hips and lacy panties, all the way up to your breasts cupped in your bra. Through panting breaths, you smiled and blushed at the heated depths of his green eyes. You felt like your heart was beating in and out of rhythm.  

But you managed to get a hold of your nerves long enough to drag your hands down his chest, down to his belt. You unclipped it for him and took your time in sliding the entire belt out of its loops. Then you let the brown leather fall to the floor. 

Russell raised a brow at you, smiling. Taking your challenge for what it was, he unbuttoned his jeans himself and aimed to step out of them, but he had some trouble when one of the pant legs got caught around his ankle and sock-covered foot.

“Shit,” he muttered as he stumbled a little. “Hold on.”

Unable to help a small giggle, you grabbed his left arm to help steady him. He hissed in pain, but he cleared his throat to cover it. You gasped as you realized what you’d done. You noticed then that he had a bandage tightly wrapped above his elbow, right below one of his tattoos.

“What’s this?” you asked in concern. You held his arm with both hands. “Did you get shot? Did you get this looked at when we were at the hospital?”

Russell staved off your questions with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay. This is old, just still healing up,” he said. 

You frowned up at him. “You got stabbed, shot, what? When did this happen? I thought you worked in private security.”

“A couple months ago. I got, uh, grazed. Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Sometimes the job gets a bit dicey.”

He could tell though, that you weren’t going to let it go easily. 

“Let me see,” you said, trying to peek under the bandage. Russell laughed and gathered you into his arms to stop your attempts. Your concern warmed him, but it wasn’t necessary. 

“I’m fine, sweetheart. I promise. Can we focus on the fun part, here?” he said.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but Russell saw the testiness in your eyes. He dipped down to kiss you, swallowing whatever snippy remark you were about to make.

You weren’t the only one giving into a craving here. Russell’s was bone-deep, molten in his blood, and getting to see you, to feel your soft body under his hands was already so much better than he’d imagined. His hold tightened on your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin.

A shudder ran up your spine at his touch. You circled your arms around his neck and let him continue ravishing you, then laying you down onto the bed. 

While you were careful about avoiding the bandage, your hand did drift down his arm, and further still, to palm at the straining bulge pressing against you. And Jesus Christ, did it feel generous. He grunted at your touch and paused with his lips against your jaw. 

“Well hey there, cowboy,” you said, adopting a more sensuous tone. “I had a feeling you’d be packing. What’s that, a .45, or a 38 Special?”

Russell’s eyes blinked wide. Then he erupted with deep laughter that made his shoulders shake. Aside from throwing a punch, your brother must’ve taught you something about guns too. 

“Well thank you, kindly,” Russell said, putting on a bit of a southern drawl, just to tease you. “But you’re about to find out, naughty girl.”

You giggled as he began to kiss your neck, languid and sloppy. He blazed a wet trail down the column of your throat and between your breasts. His beard rasping against your skin made you shudder a little, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, you quite liked that a lot.

He slipped a hand underneath you to unclip the black lace. You arched into him so he had easier access. 

He slid the bra from your body and tossed it somewhere behind him. Just as he’d imagined, you had beautiful tits. His lips explored each of them in turn, squeezing supple flesh and rolling your sensitive, hardened nipples with his tongue and fingers. 

It was a prequel, you thought, for what talents that mouth might have further down. You had to moan just at the idea, your fingers clenching in his hair, but also at the sensations he was drawing from your body wherever he touched. The man clearly knew what he was doing.

He traveled lower still and laid slow, occasionally nipping kisses across your stomach, hips and thighs. His fingers hooked around your panties and lowered them down your legs. You felt his warm breath panting against your thigh. You glanced down at him and tensed in anticipation. 

“Still good?” he checked, squeezing your hip. You smiled and reached for his hand. Russell gave it to you, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand in affection. 

“I think I’m about to be,” you said cheekily.

He smirked. His other hand smoothed up the inside of your thigh and slipped past your folds, finding wetness that already coated his digits.

“Goddamn. You’re soaked,” he said, just a hint teasing. “Bet if I put my mouth on you, you’d fuckin’ drown me.”

Again, he stopped whatever smart quip you were about to levy at him next when his fingers found your clit. You let out a gasping moan instead.

He decided that he already loved that sound. He endeavored to pull it from you, again and again when he began working you open with his fingers and pumping them inside you. He enjoyed seeing you writhe and arch against his hand. Your hands squeezed his arms, his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself.  

His thumb circled and strummed your clit in a rhythm only he could hear in his head, until you couldn’t help biting your nails into his shoulders when you came. You shuddered your release as your core throbbed with warmth and slick around his fingers. 

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he said. His voice rasped deep with arousal. “Wouldn’t even mind if you did drown me.” 

You huffed in response, unable to form speech just now.

Next time, Russell thought. He slipped his fingers out of you and licked them clean, making your eyes widen. He smirked and stroked your thigh as you came down, a shuddering mess.

After taking a second to regain your breath, you pulled him down for a kiss, both grateful and fueled by a passion you couldn’t put into words. What you felt for this man was instinctual, from the moment you saw him. And yet, it was also so much more. It was raw, and real, and maybe even beautiful.

The thought spurred you on as your hands moved with purpose down his body. Your nails caught at the waistband of his boxer briefs as you tried to roll them down. You got it halfway down his thighs, enough to let his hardened length spring free. You bit your lip at the mere sight of him. Goddamn.

Your hand slid around his cock, near its weeping head. You used the beads of wetness there to work your way smoothly down to its base. Russell’s body tensed above you, just before he groaned low in pleasure.    

You pushed at his chest to have him let you up. 

“Your turn, baby,” you said. It would be one hell of a challenge to get your mouth down that beautiful 44 Magnum, but you were more than willing to try.

To your surprise, Russell shook his head and guided you back down.

“Let’s pin that one for next time too. Wanna be inside you already,” he said.

You blinked, but then you nodded in breathless agreement. He kissed you deeply, devouring you with his teeth grazing your bottom lip. His tongue soon slipped out to soothe it.   

“Condom?” he panted, between kisses. 

“Oh, yeah. Um…bathroom, bottom drawer,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure why you were whispering. 

“Okay, two seconds,” he said.

He left you in the bed, quite literally hot and bothered, and very naked. You crossed your arms over your breasts on reflex while you tried to recover. Your core was still tingling, and your heart was beating fast, though you couldn’t stamp out the smile forming on your face. 

You heard the sound of foil unwrapping and clothed rustling. When he came back to the bedroom, you finally got a full picture of what you were in for. You unconsciously licked your lips as your gaze dipped down his body, and the indeed impressive package at full mast, and full display. 

A grin curved his lips when he caught you staring. He climbed back onto the bed with just a bit of struggle with all the blankets coiled about. He pushed a heavy blanket out of his way, accidentally shoving it to the floor.

“Back to business,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” you agreed, and you welcomed him back, sliding your hands up his arms and shoulders. You hooked your thigh around his hip as he found his way back between your legs. Holding his bearded face in your hands, you pulled him in for another kiss that reignited you both. 

He sunk his hand into your hair and treated you to another slow, deep kiss. Until your thigh tightening around his hip urged him to satisfy what you both had been wanting and waiting for.

He grabbed your thighs and angled you higher. Then he lined himself up at your entrance. Looking into your eyes, your breaths mingling together, he sheathed himself a little at a time. A keening moan fell from your lips.

He started with shallow thrusts, giving you time to adjust. But that in itself was a torturous tease. It made the coil in your lower belly start to tighten again. Pleasure began to thrum inside you, ever slowly. Your head tipped back into the pillows with a gasp.  

“God, Russell, please,” you uttered. You squeezed his arms on reflex, your heels digging into his ass. 

“I know, baby. Gonna fucking wreck you, I promise,” he said with a grin. 

You huffed in amusement. That was a hefty promise.

Though a moan tore from your throat when he finally bottomed out, stretching your inner walls. He groaned along with you. His lips fastened to your neck as he gave you deeper thrusts.

“You feel so good,” you said raggedly in his ear, raking your fingers through his hair. You felt every damn inch of him.

“You too, baby. So damn good,” he gritted out. “Tell me what you want.”

He raised your thigh a bit higher, his fingers pressing into flesh.

“Ugh, fuck,” you gasped, as he hit a particularly delicious angle. “Whatever you want to give me.”

“You sure about that?” Russell asked, panting against your neck. Your nails dragged down his back between the muscles in his shoulders, hard enough to earn a halting groan from him.

You nodded emphatically. “Yes!”

His lips hinted at a smile. “Okay, hold on."

Before you could even respond, he pulled out of you all the way, just so he could guide you over onto your stomach. He pulled you up onto your hands and knees. As he ran a hand down the gentle slope of your back and around the curve of your ass, you breathed harder in anticipation.

“So damn beautiful,” he muttered.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. You unconsciously bit your lip as your heart couldn’t help but swell at his words. Russell met you with a look that betrayed his desire, making your lower belly tremble as well.

He parted your cheeks and slotted himself between your thighs from behind. You once again felt the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, and then pushing back in with one deep plunge. Both of you let out moans of relief at the feeling.  

Pretty soon, he was pounding into you deeper and faster than before. Oh, fuck yes…

You clawed at the headboard, trying to find something to keep you stable. Russell’s arm slid around you for a solid support. You held onto him right back with one hand while he continued to drive into you, earning each and every sound coming out of your mouth. He’d finally angled you just right, so he could hit that special spot inside you with every thrust. Your pussy clenched on him in response, making him grunt in pleasure. 

“Fuck, you’re close. I can fuckin’ feel it,” he said, panting. He laid a biting kiss where your neck met your shoulder. You cried out in both pain and pleasure, your inner walls once again squeezing on him. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, breathless. “This time, you’re gonna come with me.”

You reached back and tangled your fingers into his hair. He held you to his chest and squeezed your breast a bit roughly. You uttered a wanton sound. You dragged his hand down your body to part your folds. You used his fingers to press against your clit. 

He picked up your hint, and then took control, massaging you with his fingers. There you began to tremble from the inside out. Warmth emanated from your core and spread outward, down to your toes as you came even harder on his cock. 

Russell wasn’t far behind. His voice joined yours as his body locked up, and he spilled hot into the condom. You almost wished he’d come freely inside you, so you could really feel him. Regardless, your body was boneless when he lowered you down onto the bed afterward.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

He chuckled and kissed your shoulder, before he fully pulled out. Panting for breath though you both were, you managed to twist onto your side and reach a hand for his cheek. Your fingers slipped higher from there, cupping the back of his neck. Your thumb swept tenderly across his cheek, and you guided him down for a proper kiss.

Russell obliged you, his lips meeting yours plush and wet. He brushed strands of your sweaty hair away from your forehead with affection.

Somehow, that last kiss was softer than all the rest.

One thing was for sure though. There was no way you two were making it to breakfast. 

“I kind of feel bad now,” you later confessed. 

You and Russell were taking a few minutes just to recover under the messy sheets. He held you while sitting up against your headboard. He almost craved a smoke. You’d given him a damn workout. 

He smirked at the thought. Admittedly, his mind was more on focused on the scenes replaying in his head than on what you were saying. 

“Dory doesn’t get to see you guys that often,” you continued, “and who knows how long Colter will seriously wait for us to get out of bed.”

Russell’s attention drifted back to you at that.

“Come on, it’s not like they know why we’re running late,” he said. You gave him a knowing look. 

“Are you kidding? They were already suspicious when you brought me home yesterday,” you replied with a laugh. 

Russell grinned and rubbed your arm. He knew you were probably right, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Yeah, well. That was damn worth it,” he said.

You smiled. You rolled your head over on his shoulder, so you could see his face, but you became contemplative as uncertainty crept in. You let in a breath to gather your courage, and you decided to take a chance. 

“You know, drug dealers aside, Laramie isn’t such a bad place to live,” you pointed out. “We’ve got a movie theater, a couple good outlet malls, a new Tex-Mex restaurant that just opened down the street. I’m gonna have to find a new bar though.”

Russell smiled at you. He knew what you were suggesting.

He sighed as his amusement faded. 

“Look, even if I stay…” he hesitated.

He looked into your eyes and saw the vulnerability there. You were being honest with him, putting your heart into his hands. The least he could do was be honest. He covered your hand where it rested on his chest.

“If I’m on a job, I could be gone weeks at a time. I won’t be able to tell you where I am or what I’m doing. That’s gonna be hard on you,” he said. 

He knew his friend Doug made it work with his wife, but their relationship wasn’t without friction because of the job he and Russell shared.

“I can handle it,” you said firmly. 

“You just had a little freak out over a scratch earlier,” Russell pointed out, with a gesturing hand at his bandaged arm. 

“Okay, that’s different,” you said.

You wouldn’t say it now, but there were things that still concerned you about his job. You had a strong feeling that "private security" wasn’t all it entailed. However, after what he’d done for you, after what he’d done for Charlie, you knew that Russell Shaw was a good man.

There was something good here, and you didn’t want to lose it this time. You shifted in his arms, so you could face him.

“Look, we can sit down and figure all that out,” you said. “But do you want to at least try? Or…am I reading this wrong?”

Russell stared back at you ruefully. He raised a hand to touch your cheek, grazing your soft skin with his fingers. 

“No, you’re not,” he said. 

In fact, what he felt already ran deeper with you than he’d like to admit. He let out a long breath through his nose. 

“Okay,” he said at last. “If we’re gonna do this, let’s do it right, I guess. I’ll book a motel here in town for now. If things go well, I can…I don’t know, find an apartment.”

Your answering smile broke him down further, even as it warmed him inside. You turned over to circle your arms around his neck, and as an added bonus, pressing your bare breasts against his chest. You kissed his cheek with a happy hum. He laughed at your enthusiasm. He also accepted your sweet path of kisses that led to his lips. 

He groaned when it became not so sweet, with your tongue slipping hotly against his. His hold on your hips tightened.

“Uh oh. Baby, we can’t do this now,” he chuckled, even though your hand was already wandering down his body and under the sheets. You both were supposed to be getting ready to meet his brother and sister for lunch. 

“Five minutes,” you said against his lips. All the while, you were pushing him back onto the bed. You began to kiss down his chest, and lower still.   

Russell snorted. Right. 

But he wasn’t about to argue with you. He had a gut feeling…one that made him almost certain.

He’d found where he wanted to be. 

AN: Well, then! I hope you enjoyed the "happy ending." 😘 I always get a bit sad at the end of a series, but thank you to everyone who's followed the ride on Every Second Counts. Let me know what you thought of how it all shook out here at the end between her and Russell! 💜

Read the Sequel:

Want more ESC? Read the next one-shot, Lost Time (18+):

Summary: When Russell takes longer than usual on a job out of town, you realize how hard it is to live half a life with him.

▶️ Keep Reading: Lost Time

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[thatnonameuser]

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist

Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 3.

Apparently, what parts of the conversation you missed before running all the way here was that you missed the first bell and were late. So after running, being dragged, all the way here, you'd gone straight to class. 

Thankfully, Ace’s collar problem wasn’t a class problem, thanks to all the classes so far being theory.

With that problem out of the way let's get back to you.

If you planned on learning today, that plan went out the window. Not only where you still repeating what Cater had said to you earlier. Being ousted for being a darling would put you in such great danger, so the fact he figured it out in the hour you spent with him this morning was very much not good.

It also got your desk hit with Professor Crewel's riding crop/wand? for not paying attention in class. Speaking of, Crewel had been the one to rat you out to Crowley so you weren't expecting him to be kind to you, but unlike the brutal berating he gave Ace for making a sarcastic quip in the middle of his lecture, he'd given you a stern look and nothing else.

You just hope that it was fluke, because you don't want to think about the idea if he's in love with you too. Wait, is it possible for a yandere to love platonically, you'll have to research that.

If you can even do that, to begin with. Because the textbooks that you received aren't the right ones. Why? Because they're missing complete pages worth of information.

How do you know?

Because you compared it to Ace's.

There was a love potion spell that would be taught the first years next semester, powerful, dangerous and it could if used correctly sever cognitive thought from the darling for a period of a day, and replace it with false love.

Your copy of the same Potionology textbook didn't have that. Or any of the other potions that could do the same thing. In magical history, the ancient tactics used by yanderes were wiped clean from your copy, when they were present in Deuce's own.

What's worse is that this was done on purpose. How do you know that? Because you pointed it out.

At the end of Potionology, you'd gone to the Professor textbook in hand in search of an explanation.

"Excuse me, Professor Crewel?"

"Pup, it is Master Crewel." You were not calling him that, "How can help you?"

"Um, something's wrong with my textbook? It's missing a lot of pages." He taken it from you and flipped through it. And then set back in your hands.

"There is nothing wrong with this pup. It has everything you need in it." He'd said if he hadn't lied clean through his teeth.

"B-but I checked with one of the other textbooks, dozens of pages on potion recipes are missing?!" You'd argued.

"Pup, you are referring to the textbooks we give the yandere students. By law, I'm required to give you this one." What?!, was what you thought in anger.

"W-What law?" You asked, you were absolutely dumbstruck at his response. You were getting really tired of being left in the dark.

"Darling students are not allowed to readily access any knowledge about what their future yanderes will use against them, regardless of purpose." That was what came out of his mouth, he hadn't seen anything wrong with it.

It wasn't just that either. The same thing happened with your Magical History book when you asked Professor Trein. And you got some more bad news.

The library, your saving grace, wasn't allowed to give you any of the books they'd given you last time. No more information that could help you. You couldn't even use the textbooks Grim would get, as they were being kept in the classrooms rather than in Ramshackle. The jury was still out on your 'The Art of Ensnaring Hearts' class about whether or not you could even attend those in the future. Was this all done to keep you from learning about what the Yanderes know, to keep you from knowing how to save yourself?

Phys Ed, was the only class you could actually do without someone putting you at a disadvantage. It may not have been your favorite class, but considering you might need to run away from a yandere in the future, you ran as fast as you could.

And now your legs hurt real bad. You weren't the most athletic person but Coach Vargas really worked you over.

Eventually, after a really rough morning, break time rolled around.

"Let's see, our next class is...."

"This so-called magic academy feels a lot like a lame, ordinary school." Ace complains. You disagree, normal schools don't usually teach students how to make love spells. You hope at least. Do non-magic schools teach similar yandere stuff? "It's not exactly what I expected, but at least this collar won't be much of a problem after all."

"You with me on that, Grim? ....Hm?" Grim's silence hadn't struck you as weird until Ace said that. Your loudmouth, tuna-loving cat monster hadn't thrown up a complaint since you left your last class.

"Grim?" You search for Grim among the legs of traveling students but you can't find him. A bad feeling sinks into your stomach. Ace and Deuce couldn't do it. They were right next to you the whole time, so what happened to him?! Did he get-

"Oh! Look out the window! i just saw a ball of fur running across the yard!" Deuce exclaims. You transition the fear of his imminent demise to anger for his abandonment of you.

"Where!?" You nearly collide with the window in your haste, as Deuce points him out down below. A small grey blur races quickly across the courtyard, "He's cutting class!" The Headmaster's going to be furious. And the LAST thing you need is being kicked out into a world where MURDER IS OK!!!

"Boy, that guy is not a fast learner." Yeah, Deuce. Clearly!! He just left you alone in a yandere school! You're definitely withholding his tuna for this.

"Not a good look to lose your only student in your first week as a prefect. Want some help catching him?"

"YES!" You yell, not caring about the future implications. Two IOU's in one day is not gonna be good for you in the future. But right now, your present is on the line! "Please just help me!"

You don't know what you looked like when you said that, but considering how the both of them blushed, you'll have to worry about that later.

Right now, you need to get Grim, preferably before he burns something down.

And so you began the chase of Grim through the courtyard. With your legs still burned from the exhaustion of Coach Vargas' training, you could barely keep up with Ace and Deuce and nearly collapsed once on the way.

But thankfully, the fear and rage from earlier turned into adrenaline that propelled you forward.

And propel you it did, into a person.

You had been a few paces behind Ace and Deuce, but you were far enough to lose sight of them as they turned a corner into the courtyard.

So you hadn't seen the person you ran into, but inertia wasn't your friend today.

You had expected to hit the floor of the courtyard, concrete or grass, whichever was softer, and braced mentally for impact. Only for an arm to swiftly wrap around your waist.

Fast, so fast that you can't even get a letter out of your mouth in sheer surprise, whoever caught you had slipped an arm round your waist, saving you from your unlucky fall.

And so the charming prince that caught you was...

Blonde, with his hair cut into a mid-length bob. Perched on his head is a brown hat sporting a pale white feather. His green eyes are like a falcon's, sharp and piercing. He smiles down upon you. Your noses are practically an inch away from touching. The way you're positioned is straight out of a romance novel, the male lead saving the clumsy MC from a nasty fall.

The embarrassment of the situation you've found yourself in doesn't escape you as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. "I-I’m sorry!" You blurt out. Thank the seven that there aren't many people around.

" , . I'm just lucky that I caught you." He's speaking French? But how does.....y’know what, nope not touching that one.

"Yeah, thanks." He still hasn't let you out of his hold, and you'd like it for him to let you go now. "Could you, uh, let me up now."

"Bien sûr, mon cher," he says something in French that you don’t understand, but he does help you to your feet with a flourish. He even spins you for some reason.

OK. Another weird one.

You dust yourself off, "Thanks, sorry again," you say somewhat sheepishly.

The smile your savior has is seemingly unshakable, and the laugh he gives you in reply reflects that, "Non non, ce n'est pas un problème du tout, though chérie, will you not grace me with your name?" He even speaks like all the lovelorn princes in your childhood storybooks, well minus all the French.

"It's _______. Have you seen a grey cat run through here?"

"Oui, filou he went that way," Great, you prepare to turn but he stops you with a hand on your shoulder, "though it is best if you head that way if you wish to find him." He points in a direction very far from where he originally pointed.

One of your eyebrows quirk up in confusion, "How do you know that?" You ask.

"Call it a hunter's intuition. You wouldn’t want to be late for Arithmancy, ______" He says with a smile.

You thank him before running in the direction he told you, and in no time at all, you find Deuce dropping a struggling Grim into a net Ace is holding.

And so the Great Grim was captured.

"Mrrah! I've had it with these boring classes!" He squirms in the net Ace took from one of the grounds men, even with his claws he can't escape the netting.

"Grim, you'll never be a great mage if you don't attend classes!" You scold but Grim doesn't stop complaining.

"Ugh! When did you get all bossy?!" Grim continues his complaning as you cross your arms.

You ignore his pointless pouting. You got all bossy when you found out that a single screw up could either result in you getting attacked by a obsessive lover, or get thrown out of here on your rear end with no one to protect you from the aforementioned obsessive lovers.

That and he trapped you into another  IOU five minutes ago that might bite you in the ass later. You can't afford to get into any trouble. With Crowley, with the teachers, with the other dorm leaders, the other students. And Grim....is also someone you need to keep yourself sane.

"Pout about it all you want, Grim." You remove him from the net, holding him against your hip like he’s a troublesome toddler so he doesn't run away again. You turn to Ace and Deuce, and smile softly, "Thanks, you guys."

Again, that light returns in both their eyes. Ace smiles mischievously and slings his arm over the two of you in a half hug, "Glad to help clean up the mess made by the worst prefect to ever set foot on campus!"

"It wasn't that bad, Ace. Let her go! Like the last time, Deuce pulls Ace's arm off of you. The two glare at each other, as if silently fighting. Unlike Ace, Deuce tends to respect your personal space only ever doing this when Ace gets too touchy or too close. That and he always tries to defend you when Ace or anyone else teases you. Maybe it really is in your best interest to get closer to Deuce.

"Alright you two, we're gonna be late. Our next class is...." Aw man, it's Arithmancy. No wonder Grim ran off. You say such and Ace groans.

At least they can't censor this class, too. A part of you would like it if they did.

"C'mon, let's not get caught 'skipping' class."

On the way back, you wonder about the man you ran into. Now that you thought about it, he never gave you his name. And you gave him yours immediately, damn it!

Still, the likelihood that he was a yandere for you was too unrealistic. Sure, Ace and Deuce might have budding feelings for you, but the likelihood that four different people were all yandere for you was already rare, even for this world.

Besides, you've already met some people with a lot of character today. So maybe he's just a little weird.

Maybe. Hopefully.

Wait, if he didn’t know who you were.....how did he know that your next class was Arithmancy?

"Woo! Lunchtime at last!" You can't mirror the excitement Grim is feeling right now, even if this a refuge from the classroom confusion from earlier. The cafeteria's as full as ever, and you feel different from the last time you entered it.

Last time, you were surrounded by your fellow students and peers. This time, you're surrounded by the human equivalent of sheep among wolves.

You are the ideal prey of everyone in this room, and some of them might already know about that. Cater's words earlier had terrified you and rang back in your head, "Darling~" You hadn't even known him long, so how could he tell? Would everyone around you just know on sight? Maybe they discovered it before you had?

Still, you skipped breakfast for Ace's apology, so you don't really get the luxury of skipping another meal right now. Even if you don't exactly have an appetite. Despite the volume of delicious smelling food, Grim is piling on your tray, and you feel more like puking than eating.

Even so, you don't really have an appetite right now, despite all the good smelling food that Grim's raving about right now. It's fancy, and Grim doesn't even eat half of it but is piling it up all the same. Can cats even eat onions?

"Shh! Dude, inside voices! Where was this energy earlier today?" You nod in agreement with Ace. Your legs already hurt from PE, and now after chasing Grim, they practically burn.

"_____, grab me the grilled chicken! There's only one left! And an omelet, too. And that jelly-filled bread. Just fill your whole tray with 'em!" You struggle to balance the sheer amount of plates and food that Grim piles on one after the other. Seriously, how does one cat demon thing eat so much?!

"Grim, that's enough. Save some for everyone else!" You finally relent, but unfortunately, you made that decision a few seconds too late.

Your hand, already tired from Coach Vargas' class, finally yields, and you lose the grip on the tray and plates Grim's stomach piled up.

Now for the good news and bad news.

The good news is that you managed to save every plate of food Grim haphazardly stacked on your tray. A gew crumbs were lost, but otherwise, you managed to save everything. Which was great because with cheapskate Crowley's micro food budget, you were pretty strapped for cash and didn't want to waste food.

But then there's the bad news.

The bad news is in your haste to stop the mountain of plates from crashing to the ground and bringing more attention to yourself, your shoulder may have collided into the back of the student in front of you.

You were just getting into accidents today, weren’t you?

"Hey! Watch where you're goin'!" The student you were unlucky enough to bump into, and their buddy for some reason, to whirl around in anger.

"I'm so-" You start to apologize only for him to interrupt you.

"M-my carbonara!" Ah, man. Did you ruin someone's lunch? That's-,"You broke the yolk!".......what?

"Whoa, that's messed up! Pokin' the egg is the best part!" Ok, not ruining someone's lunch, he might be a bit sad, but all is o-

"You better make this right, pal!" He grabs you by your tie and you nearly fall with all the food on your tray.

"I-it's just a yolk?" Is all you can say, completely struck dumb. You already knew this world had it's priorities messed up but this had to be the dumbest argument ever made. "I didn't ruin your lunch, you were gonna poke it anyway, so I saved you a step!"

"Yeah, so get your filth hands of my henchman!" Grim backs you up. But the delinquents don't back down.

"I'm gonna need that grilled chicken of yours as compensation." Normally you probably would have let the guy take it. Let Grim learn a lesson of not carrying his own food and move on.

But this was a matter of principle, damn it!

Also you weren't completely sure if darlings were naturally meek, so backing down was not an option here.

"No." You say point blank. The delinquent stupid enough to fight in the middle of a crowded cafeteria balks like you said something incredulous, "What?!"

"You heard me. NO. Go eat your soggy yolk-y carbonara, while I go eat my grilled chicken." After all, that trouble you went to get this you were commandeering that chicken for yourself. Take that, Grim.

"Hey! That's no way to speak to an upperclassman! Catch me outside and I'll teach you some respect!" Alright, so just won't go outside for a few hours, got you there dumbass.

At this point, Deuce must have gone through the lunch line and caught sight of you. They must have heard the foregoing argument because Deuce steps in to play peacemaker, separating the delinquent from your tie and shielding you behind him. "Um, excuse me, sir, but it said int he handbook that fighting with magic was prohibited....."That's a rule?! Sick! Now you won't have to worry about tha-

"Fighting? You got it all wrong. This is just me helpin' an ignorant freshman know their place." Ok, so much for that. Two advance magic pens at hand, and you're forced to shrink behind Deuce and Grim.

"W-wait a second, I don't have any magic. That's an unfair fight." You hate how powerless you feel right now.

"Who care about that!? If I end end up killin' ya, we just gotta call one groundmen." You forgot about the whole 'murder is not bad' part of the school rules. Does that mean no one will intervene? Damn it again!

You can hear Deuce growl at their threat. Withdrawing his own pen, he shouts his signature, and by that you mean only, spell. Grim

For a student that probably knows one spell Deuce puts up a hell of a fight. You wonder where he's getting all the cauldrons from. The two 'upperclassman' must've been flunkies, because there was no way these people would be able to lose so badly and so easily to two people that barely know anything about offensive spells. Your one worry was the mountain of food you were holding would fall. That and hearing Ace grumble about not fighting. For your honour, for your praise, you'd didn't know. At this point, you're starting not to care.

Surprisingly, or not if it didn't, the battle is done and won without the hundreds of students present even hesitating in their respective conversations.

"Whoa, didn't know you had it in you...."

"Look, I'm gonna let you off the hook this time, but only 'cuz I don't want my pasta gettin' cold." Sure and it's not like you 'upperclassman' lost a cat and student who only knows how to summon a cauldron.

"Pffft! I knew you were all talk! You better hope I never see you again!" Grim taunts as if Deuce hadn't done nearly everything. You keep quiet this time, redirecting your silent fury into mocking.

"Whoa! Two upperclassmen being beaten by students who were nearly expelled in the first week. That's kinda sad." You mock as you watch two delinquents shrink back with their figurative tails between their legs, departing with their, hopefully, cold lunch.

"Thanks Deuce," You turn to him and say with a smile, and his earlier anger dissolves into a soft smile. Like you being grateful for his help and protection sucked the rage out of him. You hate that you know it wasn't as wholesome as it was on the tin.

"N-No problem," he stutters, cheeks flushing.

"Yeah, yeah enough of that." Ace grumbles, pulling Deuce away by his arm. His anger hadn't been pacified by Deuce's victory, in fact it worsened. If how deep he's frowning is any indication.

"If you guys are going to fight again, can you help me carry all this to a table?" It's been two days and their near constant warring over you is starting to become normal.

They snap out of it instantaneously, "Sure, Prefect!"

Grim had been bitter when you told him you were taking his grilled chicken as compensation for the mess he got you in. But he eventually relented to stuff his face with all the partially lukewarm food. Speaking of, the food's good if a bit cold.

Hearing Grim rave abut how good his food is makes you chuckle lightly, stroking your fingers back through Grim's fur. He purrs again, and that sense of peace from earlier return. Maybe this morning was just a fluke, and all will be well now.

Mid bite, Grim asks, " So, I saw your guys' dorm, but what are the other ones like?" A part of you wants to know but that's a question for another day. You need to get through today first, and then-

"I'm sure you're familiar with the statues of the Great Seven? Night Raven College has a dorm themed after each one." You choke mid bite on the half-chewed chicken in your mouth. Cater's voice took you by surprise, so much for a peaceful rest of the day. You weren't the only one.

"Bwah! You're that guy from this morning!"

You turn and face him as well as an unfamiliar face. Green hair, glasses and a clover stamp underneath his left eye. The last card suite you were left meet. Another card soldier, now just needed a tyrannical queen.

"You tricked us into paintin' those dumb roses."

"'Tricked' is such an ugly word. Do you think that I wanted to spend MY morning painting roses? It's dorm policy, I'm just following orders."

"And grinning like a fiend all the while..." More than that if what he last said too you was any indication.

"Now, now Deucey. Outside of the dorm, I don't care what rules you follow. Here, I'm just a friendly mentor figure." Like earlier, you feel that he isn't being genuine again. If his dorm is so full of people, why couldn't they help instead of trying to trick you into it. Still, brownie points are brownie points, and they better pay it forward when things get tough.

"Please. Do NOT call me Deucey."

The mystery man laughs, "That's how Cater shows he cares." he finally says. He gives of the air of that one dad friend that prevents the friend group from going up in flames. You feel a small pull at your heartstrings, you're starting to miss your friends back home.

"So, who are you?" You ask.

"Ah, i should introduce myself. The name's Trey. Trey Clover. I'm a junior at Heartslabyul, like Cater here." So you've finally met the three of clubs, or clovers if that's what you call it.

The ace of hearts, deuce of spades, three of clubs and four of diamonds, were ALL Heartslabyul students named after playing cards because this seems comical now. Also, how drunk were their parents to not recognise how ridiculously silly naming your kids after the numbers when their last names, sin Ace, are all card suites was.

Though considering the possibility that one half of their parents were probably being held hostage, you probably shouldn't judged their naming skills.

"And you must be _____, the new prefect from the dump of a-ah, I mean, the 'rustic' dorm." Ramshackle can't seem to stop catching strays, huh?

"Alright, Ramshackle might be a dump, but it's my dump. Can we please stop insulting where I sleep at night!" Your anger receives a few laughs in response. You hope you weren't a cute angry in their eyes. Last thing you need is them looking at you like you were an angry kitten.

Trey's laugh warms you a little, the dad friend energy feels a little safe. You don't feel the lingering worry from earlier, after all what is the likelihood more than three people are in love with you?

"I heard the whole story from Cater. Thanks for looking out for our boys yesterday." You beam, even if you were very, very inconvenienced last night and this morning, it's still nice to be praised. That is until you remember that the one doing it might find someone and spend the rest of their life making them miserable for the sake of love.

"It's no problem," You say regardless.

"I don't recall inviting you to sit with us...." You hear Ace murmur.

Cater slides in and seats himself between you and Ace, "Hey now, we're all from the same dorm, right? Let's try to get along. Here gimme your digits." He hands his phone to you, expecting you to put in your number.

Problem is, "I don't have a smartphone." and you probably wouldn't if you did. But regardless Cater looks at you as if you grew another head.

"For real?! I never thought I'd meet one of you IRL!" His eyes light up with that weird glow again, "I know a place that sells the latest models cheap. How about you and I go on a phone-shopping date?" NO. NO.

"NO!" You accidentally say out loud, way too loud and hurried to be brushed aside as you overestimating your volume. Some heads from nearby tables turn, to you and the others are silent waiting for something? But you don't know what.

You back track trying to amend what you said, " No, Crowley hasn't started giving me allowance yet, so I'm kinda broke. Maybe next time?" Please never ask me that again. Maybe you should join a club so you can say you're busy if he tries to ask you out again.

That glint in Cater's eyes darken, but it doesn't match the teasing look that he has on his face, "What is up with you, _____? You look so tense! It's okay, baby! Relax! Relaaaax!" He squeezes your shoulders in half-massage but it just makes you feel more tense.

Tret comes to your rescue, "Cater. You're freaking out the freshmen. Maybe take it down a notch?"

Cater laughs, still not backing away from how close he is to you, "Sorry! I can get a little extra sometimes. What were we talking about....The dorms, yeah? What fun to mentor new students. Go ahead, A-M-A."

Ant that what you all spent the next fifteen minutes talking about. The dorms and their super important history while completely ignoring the ramifications of that history have on at least half of the population, yourself included. You'd already read up on the seven dorms, but hearing about the crazy strictness of the Dorm Leader of Heartslabyul made you a little uneasy. But still, when you talk to the him maybe things will go well, maybe he's a sweetheart with a non-tolerance policy for the most extreme of rule breakers.

Still, there are so many different types of students with different personalities and different yandere types. You spotted a wolf beastman, two student whose style of dress reminded you vaguely of the Middle East the person you ran into earlier sitting at a table full of Pomefiore students, (you made a mental note to ask about him later) and the most powerful students on campus, of course from Diasomnia.

Cater continues his opinion piece in the unapproachability of that dorm. "The vibe they give off makes it real hard for regular schmucks like us to even approach them."

"It can't be that bad, they may look a little intimidating but otherwise they look like regular old students..." You say, sure one of them looks young enough to be your younger brother or a middle schooler and has the pointed ears of a fae, but they look so normal.

Then again, you were discussing animal-human hybrids and talking paintings earlier, and you're in a world full of yanderes, so what isn't normal and what is?

"And their Dorm Leader is that times a thousand." You crane your neck to the Diasomnia seating area and you don't see any features that would be capable of scaring off a whole school of students, they all look relatively fine.

"There's a little kid in that group!" Not so subtly, like their earlier pointing out of a rather androgenous purple-haired boy in the Pomefiore dining areas, Ace rather loudly points out the younger looking fae.

"Ah, we do get some child prodigies here. But that guy is no kid. He's a junior like us. Name's -"

"Lilia. Lilia Vanrouge."

"Ah!" You yelp rather loudly as midway through your turn back towards the table, only to be face to face with the same face you had just been looking at hanging upside down right in front of you. You nearly fell out of chair in a mix of shock and surprise.

You stammer in shock, "H-how did you-"

"H-he just teleported!" That can happen?! You really need to read more about this place.

Lilia, once standing upside down on the chandelier as if that was completely A-OK, floats down onto your table as if this was as normal as him walking over. He smirks, bending down to meet your eyes, " I understand my apparent age interests you? As this bespectacled fellow accurately noted..." His voice is completely opposite to his appearance, and he talks like a whimsical grandparent than a teenager. "Despite my fresh-faced, boyish good looks, it would be inaccurate to call me a 'child'." Yeah, seriously. Whoa.

"'Fresh-faced' he says." Trey seems to agree with your doubt on the young part.

He smiles and for some reason, you feel unbelievably uncomfortable. it's as if he read you like an open book without words being exchanged. The look in his eyes is unreadable, but it's not like the glint you'd seen in Ace, Deuce and Cater. Either way, it makes you squirm in your seat, "You need not gawk at us from afar. You may feel free to speak with us directly. We are schoolmates, are we not? All of us at Diasomnia House welcome you without reservation." Without reservation, he says and yet the two trailing after him are yet to say a word. And they're staring in silence, but it feels more like glaring. No wonder Diasomnia had the reputation it did.

"And yet, those guys over there aren't exactly rolling out the red carpet in terms of approachability..."

Lilia brushes that aside with a laugh, "Forgive me for appearing above you during your meal." I do hope we can speak again." Why does that part feel directed at you? Maybe you're being paranoid.

As Lilia and his entourage depart, Ace takes the opportunity to whisper to the table about the impossible feat of overhearing their conversation. Which you can agree with how on Earth, or in the Twisted Wonderland, did they hear you from across the room. You weren't even that loud. Ace was right, that was creepy.

"Well....Diasomnia House does have a bit of a reputation for having lots of special students." "Well, special is a word for it...." You say,

Trey explains further, "Some of them are extremely talented at magic. Their Dorm Leader, Malleus Draconia, is considered to be one of the five best mages in the world." Wow. Your decision to stay away from that Dorm was even more justified. How powerful is the top five most powerful.

"Malleus is reeeeeeal bad news. Though I suppose the same could be said of our dear Dorm Leader."

"He can't be that bad...." You whisper, spying a short, red-haired boy with grey eyes walking in this direction. Wait, wasn't that the dorm leader that.....collared...Grim...Oh no. "Hey Ace...?" You whisper.

Ace must not have heard you because he starts his own tirade. "No kidding! He collared me for eating one slice of tart! All his rule obsession is outta control!"

"My 'rule obsession' is 'outta control', is it?" Well, Ace is doomed. Maybe Ramshackle has a tent you can set up outside.

Completely oblivious to the new voice that joined the group, despite the fact everyone else here already has, Ace continues, " You bet it is. Riddle's just a petty tyrant who leans into the whole 'rules' schtick as a pretext to keep everyone under his puny thumb." You sigh, facepalming. Maybe you can get Crowley to buy a strong lock for your door.

Deuce takes one for the group and points out the obvious before Ace can unintentionally piss off the 'tyrant' behind him further. "Ace! Behind you!"

Ace, still not taking the hint, looks behind him and then appropriately freaks out. "Bwah!? Dorm Leader!" The Dorm Leader of Heartslaybul, Riddle Rosehearts (and the Red Queen in this abridged tale) crosses his arms in indignation.

This is not going to go well.

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 07. BENEATH THE STAINS OF TIME

a/n: wow i stalled on writing this chapter until the last minute. i think i really just didn't want to put them through this, but also i love the angst so it's an internal war i fought with myself. this is the pinnacle of the entire series. the one thing i plotted when i first came up with the story. so grab your tissues, a blanket, and a comfort fic for afterwards. because i am sorry for what's about to happen.

summary: he never liked the variant from your universe; the be all end all hero. but in the depths of anger and pain, logan howlett is forced to make a choice his variant self once made. save your soul and the people you might harm...or save the you he loves.

word count: 9.5k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: DARK THEMES AHEAD BE WARNED, angst, pain, ptsd, talk of drowning, insanity, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: death, grief, violence, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, deadpool & wolverine energy, laura kinney has enetered the chat y'all, father daughter bonding, wade wilson's commentary, sacrifice, time.

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He couldn't breathe.

Logan had been underwater before, felt the press of the ocean against his chest and struggled for oxygen. Battling for breath, no matter how small. He understood what it felt like to drown—sink to the bottom and never get up. His adamantium skeleton had been the cause of him drowning far too many times in his life; until he'd grown accustomed to the sensation of fighting for air.

This felt magnified. As if he'd been at the bottom of the Atlantic—straight down the Mariana Trench—for centuries.

Was this how it felt to be buried alive? To find yourself in a grave six feet deep with no way of clawing to the surface.

He never thought he'd understand the sensation that kept him up at night; the prospect of death was too little a threat for him to actually worry about. Unimportant to a man who had spent two centuries of his life barely finding any meaning to it. After all, what was the fucking point when he wound up right back here. In the shallow end of his grave, waiting to lay down and exhale his final breath.

Time fell back into place the moment you left. Fortuna. Someone he never thought would find him here; now brought him to his knees with one simple act.

There was misery in love. He knew this the moment he fell in his own universe. He understood the cost of what might come from you using your powers without restrictions; what Charles told you. Yet he fell anyway. He allowed his heart to open up and give you leeway into the broken pieces of his mind—a part of himself he chose to ignore.

He should have fucking known better than to repeat history here.

He should have ignored the strings that bound his heart to yours and left you alone.

He should have, he should have, he should have...

But he didn't.

Now he bore the brunt of consequences he knew would one day show up.

Your apartment door slammed open, nearly getting torn off the hinges as a familiar echo of heavy boots thumped across the hardwood floor. He felt his spine tense where he still knelt—hands clutching the pieces of your shattered mug. Fortuna wouldn't be returning. He knew her tricks, knew her endgame, and coming back to the scene of disaster was never her forte.

The scent of vanilla and Ambrose filled his senses, stinging his nose, as a familiar dark browned girl rushed to his aid. A backpack hit the ground, sunglasses discarded on the counter, as his variant's daughter clutched his hands in hers. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. Not when he broke right there in a place that held such happiness.

She seemed to understand. Peeling the porcelain out of his palms and placing it back on the table; finding what other shards she could to put them all together. The silence felt safe. Familiar.

Logan found himself suddenly thankful for the variant that once existed in her world. She could see the cues before they even washed across his face; the bitter grief that her father once went through. He knew from when he met her in the Void, he couldn't be that person for her. But when she looked at him like that—a daughter willing to fight alongside her father—he hoped that maybe...he could.

"Althea called me," she said softly, hands wrapped around his wrists. "Whoever she is attacked Wade's place first."

His head rose, anger trickling in his chest as Laura's brown eyes mirrored his own. "She's..."

"I know," she muttered, pulling him to his feet. "Wade filled me in."

"Is he-"

"Takes a lot more than that to kill a Deadpool." She grimly kicked shattered glass to the side, shoving it to a corner as he staggered to his full height. He wore a neutral expression—somber even. But Laura could see the pain in his eyes; an exact replica of the older man she once clung to as a child—begging him to live for her sake. "He sounded pissed. Althea hung up before he could fill me in on the gory details."

"Fortuna," he sighed, eyes fixed on the demolished window. He'd have to help you fix it after all was said and done—after he apologized for dragging you into a mess that was never meant to touch you. "She found me."

Laura's nose scrunched, brows furrowed. "You're ex? I thought she could control time, not...multiverses."

"Charles's theory was that she wasn't exactly controlling time. More like what made up the universe as a whole."

She nodded. "Time included."

"Time included," he repeated. "I didn't think she'd...get this bad."

"You left her behind," she stated, rummaging in your fridge for something to drink. "I guess a part of me can understand her anger."

He knew she wasn't talking about him, but rather the man she once looked up to. Nonetheless the words still stung the same.

In a different world Logan could picture her here on nights not spent at the mansion studying and training. He could see you bonding with Laura—teaching her the history of the X-Men. Showing her the love of a mother she never had.

The image punched him in the chest until his breath became nonexistent and suddenly...he was drowning again. A choked noise echoed in the back of his throat. Laura's head snapped in his direction with concern etched across her face. Any other day he'd loathe that look, but tonight he couldn't dig his way out fast enough to care.

The soda can she tossed his way nearly smacked him in the head; effectively snapping him out of whatever fucking stupor his own mind was intent on trapping him in. He caught it, breath rushing back to his lungs, and gulped down the shitty sugary crap his own kid loved.

"That's fuckin' disgusting," he bit out, watching her smile into her own can.

"I like it."

He winced as the taste hit the back of his throat. "You're a kid. You'll grow out of it."

"You've said that before Dad. And I'm not a kid-" She tensed as the word left her mouth. The title that was never meant to fall upon his shoulders; never supposed to tie him to another person.

Something hesitant flashed in her eyes, mouth now a thin line as she waited for his inevitable reaction to her slip up. The words he uttered beside the fire no doubt on the tip of his tongue: Whoever you think I am...you got the wrong guy. But standing there, watching his kid hold hope in her eyes that he might say something different this time, made him finally understand what the fucking point was.

He didn't want to be the wrong guy.

He just wanted to be what she needed. What you needed.

"No," he sighed, lips curling into a smile that said enough. You can call me Dad. You can give me that responsibility and know I'll fight like hell to make sure I live up to his legacy. "I guess you're not."

They allowed the silence to sit in their chest for a brief moment. A moment of understanding passed in their grim smiles that held so much more. He'd tell it all to her one day. How he once longed for a life exactly like this, for a kid of his own. How he never believed himself worthy of the title Dad. How he'd lay down his entire being if she asked it of him.

Today though, they shed the titles of father and daughter and donned one they knew all too well. Wolverine. Ironic that the one thing he loathed would one day be given to a girl who wielded it with pride.

"What are you gonna do?" she asked, pushing off the counter and reaching for her bag.

"Find her."

"And when you do?"

His heart paused as the realization of what was to come began to reenter his mind. Fortuna had you captive, dangling you on a string in the hopes he would latch on to rescue the person who held his heart. Logan felt the urge to leap. Save you from the clutches of someone willing to kill you just to bring him unimaginable pain.

To get even for what he couldn't do that night.

But he also knew...Fortuna didn't deserve what happened. The humans destroyed what the X-Men built. They were the cause of everything that occurred since he left. He couldn't let their trauma bring down the woman he once loved. Even if she was so adamant on watching him give over his life for a version of her not yet broken by unimaginable pain.

"I don't fuckin' know," he admitted.

She took another sip, crushed the can in her palm and tossed it to the bin in the corner of your kitchen. "Wade's gonna want to speak to you. Find out what happened here."

He nodded. "You got everythin'?"

"I'm set."

"You know you don't have to do this kid. It's not your fight."

Her eyes narrowed, the firm set of her mouth so much like his own. She was a fucking mirror he never thought he'd have; showing him pieces of himself he once thought too ugly to be seen. Yet they were the reason she shined so bright. He could see the stubbornness ingrained into her very own DNA. A testament to his own unwillingness to let things go; to take on the battle for someone else as long as they didn't get hurt.

So much like him. So identical.

He felt a streak of fear run down his spine at that thought alone. She'd have to suffer for it. Just as he did. But goddammit if he wasn't going to do everything in his power to save her from the pain of bearing the title Wolverine.

"You love her," she stated plainly, as if nothing else mattered in this world but those three words. "Which means she's my family. We protect our own."

She didn't give him a chance to respond, scooping up her sunglasses and propping them on her nose with a huff. Maybe she didn't notice how he stood there, eyes wide as something pricked his heart. Maybe she ignored it for his sake—so uncomfortable with being vulnerable like him. But either way he couldn't deny the fact that stared right at him in big shiny letters.

She was his daughter. Through and through.

"She took my arms!" Wade's voice echoed down the hallway, giving Logan pause as Laura took the lead. "Do you know how petty that is? When I find that Scarlet Witch carbon copy I'm gonna shove my katana down her throat as I dance to dub-step-"

"Hi Wade," Laura said, cutting him off from what was about to be an impressive rant.

He spun, baby arms swinging limply at his side. "Oh good. The clone of the man I actually need. Tell me, did you find your father cause mommy has to speak to him."

Logan took that chance to follow her through the open door. His eyes took in the destruction of a once nice living room. Burn marks stretched from floor to ceiling in multiple places where Fortuna's whip had made contact. He spotted two limbs in a pile by the couch, blood pooling on the carpet as Wade steamed with enough fury to sharpen his senses.

She’d come here first looking for him. Which means she somehow knew exactly where to find him.

"Peanut!" he shouted, eyes narrowed and baby fists clenched. "Did you have a nice morning? Get some good head? Because I was attacked by the long lost daughter of Princess Diana."

Laura's head cocked to the side, brows furrowed. "Diana Prince."

"Whatever!"

"Wade." His greeting could have been better. Though he was never one for handing out sympathy to the nearest victim.

Wade ceremoniously collapsed to the floor on his back, thumping his head against the carpet as Logan stepped further into the room. The window was ripped clean out of the wall, glass scattered everywhere which showed how Fortuna found out about her variant self. Logan could practically see the fight happen in the present time.

It made his stomach sour—his heart a rapid beat against his chest.

"How long will it take for those to finish?" He gestured to the arms that currently pointed two middle fingers in his direction.

"Couple hours. Why do you ask? Want a handy?"

"Ew," Laura sighed. "I'm gonna find some food. Want anything?" When Logan shook his head, she quickly dipped back out into the hallway, leaving him to deal with the wallowing lump on the floor.

He sighed, stepped over Wade and grabbed him. "Alright c'mon."

"I'm half the man I used to be. Literally. She took the only good thing I had until Ness got back." The limp wave of small hands in his face had Logan cringing back.

"So she came here first then."

Wade barked out a laugh. "Oh you mean your ex? Sabrina the teenage BITCH!"

Logan huffed, dragged him to the couch that had long chunks ripped out of the fabric. "She's a lot older than you think mouth."

"Sorry my bad. We didn't exchange your preferred blowjob tips and trade secrets about you when she was cutting off my arms!" The roll of his eyes was involuntary, barely there, but Wade latched onto it like a dog with a bone. "Did you just-"

He turned his head, exasperation bleeding into the air. "Did he just roll his eyes at me?"

The room went still as the gears in Logan's head began to turn. The fear was now palpable enough for Wade to figure out exactly what was happening. He sat up straight, gaze latched onto the apartment across the street. The wall gaped like a wound, leaving a trail of ghastliness in its wake. Wade was surprised to see minimal bloodshed, merely the path of destruction left by a being with too much power, but the inkling of you in pain made his stomach churn.

The amount of information he extracted out of Fortuna was slim to none, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what she went after once she was done wreaking havoc in his home.

"Logan," he started, anger trickling into his heart. "Where is sweet angel?"

He sagged into the couch—grief cutting into his chest as images of your smiling face plagued his mind. No answer would have been good enough to explain what happened. His face stricken with despair—the way he clutched his hands into fists on his knees—told Wade everything he needed to know.

Fortuna wasn't here to only kill Logan. Why dismantle one life when she could bring an end to the memory of Logan Howlett in this universe too? She'd take all of them down with her if it meant enacting her revenge.

Starting with you.

"No," he breathed.

"I don't know where they would have-" He bit down on the inside of his cheek until copper burst on his tongue. "Where they'd be."

The longer he sat there, the more he felt himself sink into the despondent pit in his mind. Yet no matter how he struggled to claw at the ground, it continued to drag him in earnest. The sharp peal of laughter—of taunting words that set his teeth on edge—mimicked the sound of Fortuna.

He wanted to scream, but who would be there to listen? Who would be there to drag him from the darkness now that you were gone?

A bag was tossed to the couch, barely breaking through the murkiness in his own mind. Laura dragged the only working chair in the kitchen closer to the couch. The snap and hiss of a Coke being opened filled the dire silence. Giving Logan something to latch onto. He might tell her one day how being near her settled the raging storm in his head; the calm he could never quite acquire somehow flowing through her with ease.

He had people to help him find you; people who cared for your well being.

People who would die to bring you home.

There would be no end for them where you weren't safe. Where they didn't offer themselves up on your behalf. You were the best of them. It certainly wasn’t your fault you fell in love with a man too twisted and mangled by pain to offer you even the illusion of peace.

"I know someone who might be able to help," she said, chewing thoughtfully on a granola bar. "You may not like it."

Wade's sigh was deafening, his body flopping back onto the couch with a groan. "We are not dragging McAvoy into this. Not when Stewart is better drama wise."

She took another bite, distant gaze stuck to a busted picture frame of Wade and Vanessa on an anniversary of some sorts. Wade wore red, Vanessa wore black. They resembled a couple others might look up to. Logan used to stare at it often in his fitful nights of sleep. More so when you wandered into his life; thoughts of a future tantalizingly close to the tips of his fingers.

He wanted that with you. A life worth more than every battle he fought, every scar that didn't stick. All the fucked up things he did evaporated like steam floating off water the second he met your eyes.

You and your honey-like smile; your hand a soft yet sturdy grip in his.

"Is your universe similar to this one?" Laura inquired, back in the moment as her mind reeled with possibilities.

"Somewhat."

"In what way?"

"Places and people still exist. It's pieces of time that are different. History isn't the same here." He could recall you begging him to explain his past. What wars he fought in, what happened for him to get to this point. Yet whatever you recorded wouldn't match the history books housed in your library.

Laura nodded, downing the last of her soda. "So places. Anywhere special she might have gone that might mean something to you?"

His mind fell to the one place even he couldn’t approach. The space that housed so many memories—so much agony. But going back there would mean facing the other X-Men and Fortuna wasn't stupid enough to risk falling into that trap.

"The mansion is too risky."

He thought back to your shared room. The walls that once flickered blue with Fortuna's power as he held her through the nightmares. He thought of a small two story farmhouse that sat on the outskirts of the property line. A home Charles offered. One he intended to rebuild with the promise of holding onto a love so permanent.

His heart dropped, laying in the base of his stomach like a stone he never intended to swallow. "I know where they are."

Wade perked up, arms an inch longer than before. "Mind sharing with the class peanut?"

Logan couldn't hear him over the noise in his head; the knowledge that Fortuna would pull such a heinous act of revenge. Taking you to the place he promised her. It made for the perfect ending to her already tragic story. Logan wasn't sure if he wanted to rip his claws into the couch below, or charge out the door with no plan.

He settled for heading to the hall closet, yanking the door open with more force than intended. It slammed against the wall as he tugged free a black unlabeled duffle bag from the top shelf. After the battle to save Wade's universe, he didn't think he would need this old yellow suit anymore. At the time he was tempted to throw it out and forget it existed.

He eventually came to his senses.

Salvaging what he could and rebuilding small pieces in case the time came formed an amalgamation of what once resembled an X-Men suit. His fingers traced the silver X attached to the belt. The symbol that once held so much hope. Fortuna wore the same. A tie that kept them forever bound; forever each other's equal even in a different universe.

"You're going after her," Laura said.

"Of course he is." Wade stumbled to his feet. "We're finally getting that family road trip."

"Would now be the wrong time to say Avenger's Assemble? Or should we wait for the third act battle sequence?"

Logan felt the gaping maw of his heart grow the longer you were apart from him. An itch formed beneath his skin. The source was indeterminable but he knew what caused it to start. His entire being called out to you, begged you to survive until he managed to carry you to safety. Yet the biting horror of reality began to settle like a frozen chill in his veins.

What if he finally destroyed the only good thing about his life?

What if he was too late?

What if...you didn't survive?

You couldn't differentiate night from day anymore. After the first two hours, you were left with a stabbing pain in the side of your head—turning your vision blurry. After what felt like five or six (or perhaps eight) you gave up on trying to keep count. The veins were prominent against your hands as blood steadily dripped to the floor.

A pool of crimson agony that you could practically see yourself in.

If you opened your eyes, would you see the broken parts of a soul she seemed intent on dragging out? Would they match hers? The sound of her gravel lilted voice murmured in the corner of the room where she waited. A stoic figure of patience. Seeking penance for the harm caused to someone so innocent.

You both knew this was a fight meant for Logan. You knew only one of them walked away from whatever age old hatred still burned bright enough to burn the skin off your body.

That didn't stop you from wishing you could shoulder the burden for him. The words collateral damage didn't mean anything to you before. Merely things spouted to harm your already vulnerable and emotional state. But the longer you gave them time to sink in, the more you accepted her veracity. You would cease to exist one way or another come tomorrow morning.

This was the ugly undeniable truth.

The one thing Logan could not save you from.

"I know you're awake."

Fear curled around your heart like a fist as your eyes cracked open sluggishly—triggering a dull pain in your skull. The ability to speak was stripped from you after an hour of screaming. The hoarse echo of your voice sent a throbbing knife down your throat you chose to ignore.

So you stared at her; watched while she paced the floor in front of you—blue rolling off of her like waves from the ocean.

"He's gonna come for you," she muttered more to herself. "He'll show up."

You groaned and watched her stiffen—milky eyes flashing cerulean. The burn of the rope on your skin counteracted the searing ache in your torso. Her whip hung around her waist—coated in a dried layer of your blood. The sight sent bile up your throat even though your stomach remained empty. She stared at you as if you were someone else entirely; someone from a past life you'd never know about.

The need to inquire—to know more—began to build under your skin. But your body would no longer respond to what you wanted. The depletion of your energy affected more than your ability to speak; it tore at what little movement you had, ripping everything to shreds on the inside. You knew you looked half dead—felt like it too—but she could see the slight twitch of your mouth almost ready to open.

"Charles would have liked you," she revealed as if it were a small secret meant to be kept between the two of you. "He always had an affinity for those interested in mutant powers."

Sucking in a breath, you managed to force your voice to work. "I-I know the history."

"I bet you would." She glanced at the window where dusk crept into the late afternoon sky; brilliant hues of orange and red mimicking the pain in your body. "I didn't think I'd exist in this universe."

"You don't," you croaked. "I'm not a mutant."

Her lips curled, a small laugh exhaling from her mouth. "Yeah. I guess you're not. Maybe that's what he likes about you."

Logan's face seeped into the back of your mind; the tender smile he wore when you woke up together. The hope in his eyes that this might remain a consistent part of his life. That he may have lucked out on the prospect of getting to have you for as long as you chose to keep him.

Suddenly that part of your life felt a million miles away. Just barely out of reach, growing further in distance the harder you tried to capture it.

"I-I'm you," you mumbled, head tipping to the side. "That's why."

"No. You're not me." She regarded you with a look of pity, lips down turned in a mock pout. Ire burned in your chest with the embers of a flame lit by Logan. "You're weak."

You huffed, digging your nails into your palms to divert your attention from the pain. "I survived you."

The slap that whipped across your face was unexpected. You cried out—head falling back against the chair—as she stood over you. Power emanating from her stance. This wasn't someone to toy with. You could see how she craved to rip your tongue from your mouth; the need to silence her variant crawling beneath her skin.

But something held her back from approaching that final line.

Something scared her.

"You won't die if you do it," you wheezed, struggling to breath through a nose so clotted with dried blood. "That's not how this works."

She sneered. "And you're smart enough to know how all of this works."

"So it seems."

Her fingers gripped your wrist, nails boring into your already sliced open skin, as she leaned over you. "The Logan in this universe is dead." You stuttered out a halfhearted breath; body ringing with a plea to stop. To put an end to this fucking torture. "How did he die?"

You winced, leveling her glare with one of your own. "He sacrificed himself."

"You're fucking with me," she laughed, the sound shrill and hoarse.

Neither of you heard the creak behind her. You could barely register anything other than the rush of blood that pounded against your eardrums. She seemed to be enjoying how your body slowly deteriorated beneath the strain of the pain. Far too distracted to notice the person creeping into the house—sunglasses on her face—claws extended in a stance of defense.

"Who garnered enough fucking attention from Logan Howlett for him to sacrifice himself?" she jeered.

"His daughter."

Fortuna spun whip in hand, as a young woman stood mere feet away. Her head was cocked in interest as if she'd never quite seen two identical people in the same room. You knew her name the second your eyes locked on her form. The same dark hair, same grim tight lipped frown. The same silver claws and stubborn streak.

The sight of Laura Kinney took your breath away.

She stood before you every bit the girl that Logan made her out to be as he spoke about her in shared conversations at your kitchen table. You could see the mirror image of her father in each expression, each small twitch of her body that prepared to fight. And something flared to life in your chest.

You were angry that Fortuna was about to hurt her. Logan's daughter was ready to put her life on the line to rescue someone she'd never met before.

A missing detail which didn't appear to matter to her. Logan loved you. That was certainly enough for her.

Fortuna gaped at her—astounded by the familiar details and hints that Laura was indeed telling the truth. Not only had Logan Howlett died in this world, but he left behind a legacy that would live on for him. He saved the only important thing in his life so she could one day do the same for the version of her father who would stay.

"He's here isn't he?" she asked calmer than you expected. The whip snapped to the ground. You flinched at the sound. A fact that Laura clocked within seconds—her head tilted in your direction.

Though you couldn't see her eyes behind the pink sunglasses, you knew that fury burned in them as they would her father's.

"He sends his regards." Laura's fingers curled into fists.

"A child," she spit. "He sent a child to do his bidding?"

She shrugged, lips curling into a false grin. "Don't worry. I'm more than capable of killing you."

You felt pride flicker in your heart as Logan's cocksureness bled through her words. Where Laura went, Logan wasn't too far behind. You pulled at the restraints, the burn of ropes dragging along open wounds, but you refused to let Laura do this on her own. It seemed that the both of you had turned to the same page—her head nodding in your direction subtly.

"Well." Fortuna stepped forward, sapphire pouring off her body. "I suppose Logan's legacy won't last long in this universe."

Laura charged forward with a scream, claws slicing at Fortuna's middle only for the whip to wrap itself around her arm. With a shout, Fortuna flung her to the side—watching with an unhinged smile as Laura hit the wall hard enough to make you wince. You tugged at the rope—a hoarse cry ripping from your throat when a boot slammed into the legs of the chair.

"Don't tell me you're ready to leave," she shouted. "We were bonding."

"Fuck you," you snapped.

"Ouch." Her hand gripped your chin, lifting you to meet her expressionless eyes. "Is that the best you can do, human?"

"No," you gasped, hand scrambling for the knife at her thigh. "This is."

It embedded in her arm, slicing open skin as she shouted in rage, stumbling back into Laura's vicinity. Claws ripped through the back of her leg, cutting open her calf, as a familiar dark head of hair slid past her, crouching in front of your chair with a roar.

"You bitch!" Fortuna tossed the blade to the side, her hand forming around the open wound.

It clattered against the floor seconds before the door burst open—a man in red bursting through and flinging yet another baby knife towards Fortuna's healing body. She ducked, whip coiling like a snake in the air, slamming down with a crack. Wade shrieked, flipping to the side and ducking behind the broken couch as the familiar click of a bullet falling into the chamber resonated in the air.

"I'd say I'll put my hands up but you'd probably tie them together huh. You kinky minx!"

You winced through the grin, Laura's eyes tracked Fortuna's movements like a predator waiting when to strike. Whatever the plan was, Logan was sure to make sure someone was on you at all times. If only to get you out of the house and into the forest safely. From there it was quick to disappear.

Wade seemed to be the distraction in this case. Fitting.

His head peeked over the couch—the whip slicing over him with a sound that pierced through you. "You die tonight Deadpool."

"You don't want me. You want my buddy right outside this house." He stood, finger pulling the trigger quicker than you expected. Only for a silver and blue whip to slice through it—the fragmented pieces of a smoking bullet hitting the floor and rolling away.

"Surrender you walking condom."

"Pump the hate brakes Wanda Maximoff." Another bullet slid into place. "Peanut junior? Would you like to take it away?"

Launching herself into the air, Laura toppled Fortuna to the side with a scream, her claws slashing to get her pound of flesh. Wade laughed, striding towards you—boot effortlessly kicking his knife up and into his hand. You’d never wanted to hug the man more.

He winced at the sight of your puffy face; your right eye was nearly swollen shut from where Fortuna decided to land her hits. A pastime she seemed to enjoy, simply to hear you scream.

You wondered if you took off the mask, would you see Wade's face bleeding with rage. Or did he too wear an expression of pity.

"Logan's gonna kill her," he muttered, crouching in front of you and sliding the knife through the ropes with ease. "I've got ya sweet angel."

"W-Where is he?" You staggered to your feet, Wade's arm wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you upright. "He can't be here. She'll kill him Wade."

He clicked his tongue, leading you to the front steps, past where Laura was busy twisting Fortuna's whip around her own neck. "He knows what's at risk, angel. Believe me. I offered to be the noble sacrifice but I played that card when it came to saving this universe and there's no take backs."

"He's gonna die," you rasped, your knees buckling as he got you over the last step. "H-He can't die."

Wade gripped your arms, settling you to the ground with a grunt. "You forget who you're fucking sweet angel. He's the Wolverine."

"But she's-"

"A toxic ex who can't seem to take no for an answer. We've all got one of those."

You huffed. "She's more than an ex."

"I know." Pulling the gun free from his thigh, he made sure you were safe before stepping back to the front stoop. "But that doesn't mean this isn't a daytime soap opera." He turned to the treeline with a sigh. "You coming, your majesty or should I roll out the red carpet?"

A glimpse of the man in question stopped your heart, the breath catching in your throat, as Logan finally stepped forth. His suit was sewn with pieces of black leather (no doubt from Wade's leftover stash), a yellow X stretched across his chest now became the sole focus. Yet that isn’t what filled your body with warmth.

This time he wore the suit with pride. A glint of determination was in his eyes that once never used to exist. He stepped forward the X-Man this world needed; ready and willing to take on the legacy of a man he once loathed. You felt your heart twist violently at the sight—love pouring into your chest faster than you could stop it.

"Honey," he breathed, rushing over—hesitation and a storm of outrage clashing together in his hazel eyes.

"I'm okay."

He huffed through his nose, hands gathering you gently in his arms. "Don't bullshit me honey."

Wade's cough was exaggerated, his hands gesturing to the doorway. Laura's shouts and the crashing of furniture being demolished spilled through the broken windows—her rage matching her father's right down to the familiar lilt of her roar. She was a fighter. Just like the man who held you as if you were glass. Your pain, now a reflection in his eyes as he took in what Fortuna did to you.

"You can't kill her. She’s too powerful," you stated.

“You’re safe.” He didn’t seem to comprehend your words. Opting to press you close enough to feel his body heat sink into your frigid form. “That’s all that matters.”

Wade ducked down, pressing his face close to Logan's. "Yeah. I don't mean to interrupt your romantic hero kiss the girl moment. But what the fuck are we gonna do?"

"She can't keep going like this," Logan replied. "Eventually she's gonna have to tap out."

"Of course! Makes perfect sense. Mind elaborating for the audience honey badger?"

Logan sighed, his hand cupping your face with a pained noise in the back of his throat. "Her energy will run out. Same as Charles and...Jean. They couldn't keep up the fight forever."

"Okay but the whole freezing time business." He glanced to the side, shoulders lifting in a perfunctory shrug. "I know right, we really could have explained this earlier."

"Mutants are aware." Logan rose to his feet, leaving you to sit on the ground, your hand outstretched to keep him here. "We have to struggle but we can break free if she's weak enough."

"Wow." Wade sagged, a muffled groan coming through the mask. "That's just lazy writing."

You gripped Logan's hand, forcing him to step closer. "You're not going in there."

"Honey-"

"No." Gripping the stair railing, you struggled to your feet—eyes blazing with a headstrong fighting spirit Logan loved you for. "She'll kill you Logan. I can't lose you. I-I won’t."

His breath was heavy, hand curling around the back of your neck to press his forehead to yours. "You're not gonna lose me alright? Not today."

"Logan-"

Wade gripped your arm, drawing your gaze to him. "Don't worry sweet angel. He's got a bodyguard." You leveled him with a glare that would have sent him six feet under if his mutant power wasn't regeneration. "Have I ever mentioned that your eyes are the perfect shade of rage and violence. It's like a beautiful fucked lava lamp from the eighties."

You weren't sure if he was paying you a compliment or trying to lighten the mood. Logan sighed against your cheek, disappointment practically bleeding through his words.

"Seventies Wade."

"He would know. He's from 753 B.D." He turned. "Before Deadpool."

"A.D.," you spit, fighting the hint of a grin that threatened to bloom across your face.

"Not in this universe."

A shout tore through the small sliver of peace as Laura was thrown from the house, landing in a bloodied heap on the grass. Mere seconds passed before she was flipping to her feet again, claws extended and glasses forgotten about in the dirt. You wondered if the surge of warmth in your chest was pride or something else entirely.

Perhaps one day you'd get the chance to figure it out.

"Time to go do what heroes do," Wade said, nudging Logan as Fortuna floated through the open doorway, landing mere feet away from where you stood.

"Wolverine," she crooned, her boots a steady thump against the wooden porch. "Come to rescue the human I see."

Logan gripped your waist, moving you away from the house with quick steps. You clawed at his back to get him to stop. To keep him from leaving you behind. But Laura's hands on your shoulders forced you to remain calm—to remain on the edge of the property and watch as the man your heart screamed for walked away.

"Logan!" you shouted, fighting against the girl's hold, but the wasted energy was all for naught. There was no breaking away from a determined Wolverine.

He rejoined Wade with a darkened grimace. His claws ripping through the flesh of his knuckles as Wade pulled free the katanas strapped to his back. Your voice shouting his name set his entire body on edge; the urge to go to you, comfort the panic that filled your veins, nearly breaking his spirit.

But this was not your war and Logan would go down fighting before he let another person he loved fall into the hands of death.

"Alright," Wade grunted, cracking his neck. "Maximum effort."

Fortuna's whip snapped in the air, slicing a gaping hole in time as Logan and Wade charged. She leapt forward, boot pushing off the railing and toppling into them with a shout—a stolen knife carving into Logan's shoulder. He shoved her off, claws swiping for her neck, teeth bared in a snarl.

She ducked, foot slamming into Wade's stomach, rupturing the surrounding area with a blast that sent Logan sliding back into the dirt. He grunted, claws burying into the soil as Wade reached for his guns. A single katana forgotten on the ground.

"Pathetic," she sneered.

"Look who's talking McFly." Wade fired off three rounds, watching her roll to avoid the bullets, her hands crushing the dead grass beneath her.

She pointed to Wade. "You're first."

He laughed. "Bring it on you witch bitch."

Fortuna scoffed, glancing at Logan. "Does he ever shut the fuck up."

"Ha! Good luck with that. I can go on forever."

The whip unraveled from her wrist, rapidly slicing towards Wade—wrapping around his arm in a dramatic rendition of what already happened. This time he was prepared. Sprinting towards Logan, he rolled to the side as claws dragged down your arm. Opening a wound in her arm; blood pouring down her skin, dripping onto the grass.

“Fuck!” she snapped, knife lodging into Wade’s back as she leapt towards Logan.

His knee met her stomach, slamming her a few feet back until she landed on the ground. A groan reverberating in her chest.

Time flickered, punching them in the chest as they fought to move. Air rushed to his lungs as she stumbled to her feet—time falling back into place. Wade grabbed the second gun strapped to his thigh with a huff. The shot went off, the bullet finding its mark in Fortuna's wounded arm.

She screamed, falling to one knee—waves of blue pouring into the ground, forming a bubble of safety. She plucked at the fabrics of the universe, pulling them towards her as Wade pulled the trigger until the mag was empty. A pile of bullets by her body now trapped in light.

"Fuck!" Wade tossed his gun to the side.

Logan turned to see Laura holding you back, your face stricken in fear as you watched them battle it out. It was a struggle to have you here. To keep himself sane. He longed for you to be you close. What he wouldn’t give to take you away from all of this carnage. But you weren't safe as long as Fortuna was around.

She would always be a step behind, ready to chase him to the ends of this universe simply to watch him burn. He knew what he had to do. But the cost of making that choice weighed heavy on his chest—choking the very breath from his lungs. Wade could see it clear as day even as Fortuna began to build enough strength to keep herself going—to pull one final move.

With a shout, she swung her arms out, forcing enough energy their way to fling them into the air. Logan watched as spots began to form on his skin—time ripping away the very makeup of his DNA as she swung her whip in the air. It latched to his waist, dragging him forward until he was on his knees—body struggling to heal from something so unknown.

"Is she worth it?" she sneered, fingers curling into his hair to maneuver his head to keep his eyes on you. The struggle you put up to free yourself from Laura's grasp. "I'm going to kill her next Logan."

"No." He pushed against the vice of your whip, eyes latching onto the white streak hidden in your hair. A sign of what Fortuna had already started.

"I'll age her day by day, year by year, until she's dust."

"NO!"

She laughed, her lips brushing his cheek. "And you? You will have to live without her."

Tears stung his eyes when you finally managed to slip through Laura's hold, legs trembling as you forced your body to sprint his way. The sight of Logan's hair graying, wrinkles carving across his skin, brought you to the edge of your sanity. It ripped at your chest until blood poured from your heart. Staining the ground beneath you.

You couldn't lose him; you didn't know how to breathe without him. And you refused to watch him die from the sins of his past; actions he did not commit.

"Wait!" Laura shouted, running after you as Wade staggered to his feet.

"Angel!"

There was no thought process to your actions, no sense why you did what you did. All you could think about—all that filled your heart with dread—was the knowledge that Logan wouldn't survive this. He wouldn't be there to love you, give you the future you desperately ached for. He would never know you loved him.

That alone drove you forward with a pained cry.

Flinging yourself onto Fortuna, you sent the both of you flying a few feet away as Wade and Laura ran to rip her off you. But time stopped. Every sound stilled, and they were forced to stand and watch as Fortuna straddled your waist—her hands reaching for your throat.

"What do you have huh?" she snarled. "What the fuck do you have that I don't?"

"Please!" You punched her wherever you could reach, desperate to get her off of you. "He-"

"He what?"

"He wouldn't want you to do this Fortuna."

She laughed, manic enough to chill your heart with fear. "Who Logan? You think I fucking care? I would kill him in a-"

"CHARLES!" She froze, eyes flashing sapphire as her grip loosened. Giving you a chance to suck in air. "H-He loved you. Logan told me."

"Charles," she mumbled—a glimpse of your shared original color of her eyes coming through the expanse of white. "He's..."

"Dead." You gasped, turning to see three people you'd die for struggling against time—their bodies battling the power of someone far too corrupt. Someone who forgot where they came from; who their home was. "Your family...my family...they wouldn't want you to become this. P-Please. Charles, Jean, Storm. They didn’t want this for you."

She turned, gaze softening. "You would die for them."

Hot tears burned your frigid skin—falling down your temples and into your hair. "I would."

Stuttering out a breath, she fixed you with a gaze of someone you might have recognized in the mirror. A woman so broken by what time did to her. What the humans caused all because of her DNA. You wanted to promise that life might have turned out different if Logan stayed; that she would be safe. But even you knew it would be a lie.

There would be no saving her from the one thing that created her.

Time.

Leaning down, she pressed her forehead to yours—defeat curving around her shoulders, weighing heavy against her heart.

"Tell him I'm sorry," she murmured.

Pain detonated under your skin before you could open your mouth to respond, forcing your body to convulse in her tight grip. Scarred hands pressed tightly to your face, pinning you to the ground as her whip latched around your chest. Logan's roar became a distant buzzing sound that surrounded you as blue washed over your twisted bodies.

Her brows furrowed, eyes bleeding white as her iris began to form once more—the long lost color that matched your own gaze.

A mirror you wanted to shatter. Damn the bad luck that might befall you; this remained too agonizing to endure.

Her lips pressed to your ear, the pain ebbing from your veins with each pulsing wave. You clawed at her wrists, nails slicing through calloused skin as a scream erupted from the depths of your chest. Piercing the air and slamming directly into three chests.

People who were ripping at the ground to get to you—pulling their bodies across dirt as the curse of time began to lift from the air.

"Do better than me," she whispered, the hot drip of her tears mixing with your own.

Someone yanked her off of you, hurling her to the side with a familiar rumbled growl. You gasped for air, dragging your half limp body away from where Logan stood over her—claws a silver shine emanating with a promise.

"No!" Laura and Wade's hands clamped on your shoulders—keeping you at a safe enough distance. This time refusing to give you any leniency in your movements.

Logan lowered himself to one knee, chest heaving with stunted breaths as Fortuna lay before him—eyes wide with fear. He knew you were behind him. He could feel the burn of your gaze. But all the pain Fortuna caused began to splinter at what little mercy he might have held onto. Yet still the familiar fist of grief wrapped around his heart, reminding him of who Fortuna was.

The woman he once loved.

The woman he couldn't save.

"P-Please," she sighed, hand gripping onto his wrist, tugging his claws against her chest. "Before I hurt you Logan. Before I hurt her."

"I-" He squeezed his eyes shut to the sight of a you so broken—so defeated. "I'm sorry."

She grinned, eyes clear for the first time—weightless after such suffering. "It’s okay. I-I’ll get to see them again. Charles. Jean. Storm."

A sob wracked his body as he dragged her into his lap, hand cupping her face with the tenderness she deserved. "Tell them I'm sorry. Tell them..."

"I will," she murmured, allowing him the freedom to break the final vow of their love. "Till death huh baby?"

Your shouts of his name echoed in the background—Wade's voice mixing with Laura's—and suddenly Logan understood why he found himself here. Why he would stay.

They weren't just his family. They were pieces of his heart sliced open and bared to the ravages of the world. And he would be their protector. The one to meet what danger threatened them head on; willing to fight till his last breath.

He'd be the person he could never be for her.

"Of course," he sighed, tears streaking down his cheeks. "Till death."

"Love her," she breathed, cupping his cheek and forcing his claws to pierce her chest. He sliced through her with a choked shout, the warmth of her blood spilling over his hands. Tainting him further; breaking his already tormented heart. "Love her how you couldn't love me Logan."

"I will honey." Her eyes dragged to how you lay on the ground, Wade's body practically covering yours to keep you from getting any closer. "I promise."

Light flickered in her vision—white and blue and perfect—as Logan clutched her close. Sobbing over a woman he would forever hold the memory of. The last of his family that he couldn't save. Her lips curled into a smile—serenity glistening in her eyes—as a familiar voice echoed in her mind. Tugging her close into welcoming arms.

"Hello Fortuna."

She stuttered out what little breath remained in her chest, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Charles."

"I like it," a voice mumbled, breaking through the darkness that shrouded your body. "And not just cause Ness has one."

A girl hummed. "It's cool."

"Very superhero."

You groaned, body battling any slight movement as your eyes fluttered open with a wince. Light streamed through a grand window, the bed too soft to be yours, yet you knew who sat beside you. Even through the blurred haze of vision, Wade's face was unmistakable. Shifting, you felt everything in you lock up—a hoarse cry falling past your lips.

Hands pushed you back down, steadying you gently as you were finally able to see the other person sitting on a table, munching on some fries. She had a shake beside her—feet propped up on the back of Wade's chair. The sunglasses she lost in the dirt were back atop her head, keeping her hair back.

"Whoa there angel face." He fluffed the pillow violently, jolting you slightly. "You've got two broken ribs and a wound across your torso that would give me being ripped in half by Juggernaut a run for my money."

"W-Where's-"

"Shhh." He raised a crystal glass of water to your lips. "Nurse Wade is here to take care of you. Sorry I don't have the outfit. I couldn't get to a Spirit Halloween in time."

Laura snorted into her food. "It's July."

"That doesn't matter. Those stores are like herpes. You can't ever get rid of that fucker."

"Where's Logan," you said through a broken whisper.

The silence isn't what scared you. No, you'd been through too much to be scared by the threat of nothing but melancholy looks in favor of telling you the truth. You could handle the quiet. What sent terror into your heart was the fact that you knew before you even opened your eyes where he was. His warmth was nowhere to be found in this bedroom; it barely lingered on your own body.

The man who held your heart, who promised to always protect you, was gone.

"No," you breathed, tears welling up and once again blurring your vision.

"He didn't want to go," Laura interjected.

You blinked furiously to keep them at bay. "What do you mean?"

"Fortuna." She pointed to the window that overlooked an expanse of green.

With a pained gasp, you turned to see what she was directing you towards—eyes fixing on a clearly buried grave covered in fresh dirt. A shovel stood straight, plunged a foot into the ground—the handle covered in a stain of deep brown.

Laura exhaled heavily. "She's dead. Logan buried her after he...killed her."

The breath rushed from your lungs, anguish slicing through your heart. "He..."

Wade nodded, somber and horrifyingly quiet. "He wanted to stay sweet angel. We forced him to go."

"Why?" you exclaimed, your body trembling under the stress of waking up too soon. "If he wanted to stay-"

"He was broken. I thought when I found him it was bad. This was worse angel face." Wade gathered your hands in his, drawing you close with a sigh. "He needs to grieve her."

"But I love him," you whimpered, unashamed by how fast the tears were falling. Laura watched you with the eyes of her father—striking your heart in a way that split you in two. "I-I didn't get to tell him."

"He knew," she murmured softly. "Trust me."

Wade pressed a swift kiss to your hands. "He'll come home. I made him fucking promise to return to you. But right now he's gotta figure some shit out."

Laura slipped off the table, curled onto the end of the bed and handed you something folded and crumpled—streaked in stains of blood and ink that bled through the thin notebook paper. You took it with a shaky breath, cold hands closing around hers with a grim smile. Something to let her know that you were thankful for everything she did.

She wasn't your daughter. This you knew. But you wouldn't mind if she bestowed that title on you one day.

In fact...you hoped she would.

"He told me to give that to you," she said, eyes brighter than before.

You sucked in a painful breath, unfolding the letter with trembling hands. Seeing his handwriting was like a punch to your chest. The smudged words and crossed out lines as he attempted to explain himself in words for the first time. This wasn't his forte—you understood that—but the fact that he tried filled your chest with warmth.

Honey,

Don't hate Wade or even my kid for me not being there. Believe me I fuckin' wanted to. Almost ripped him to pieces when he told me I had to go for your sake. But they were right. You Fortuna was the only family I had left. I have to remember what loving her felt like. I need to let her go.

Wade and Laura are there to protect you, care for you like I can't right now. But I made a promise to you and her. So you can expect me back one day.

I care about you

I love you.

So much.

I'll love you till the end honey. Don't forget that.

-Logan

You clutched the paper to your chest, salt coating your taste buds as you sobbed for the man that you failed to protect. You would have died for him. He knew this. Perhaps that's why he left; to give you a chance to heal without him. To return as the Logan you met, not the one mangled by grief.

Laura moved closer, her hand shifting to clutch yours as tears glistened in her eyes. A solemn smile on her face. This is what Logan offered you. People who loved you; people who would die for you. Logan made sure that even in his absence you'd be safe—protected.

He gave you the one thing he couldn't keep for himself. The one aspect of his life he had to learn to accept.

Logan left you a family.

note: my brain is mush but i love you guys. it will get better i promise!

[speakergame]

Progress Update - 3/4/24

Hello and happy March!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 😅 Well, I finally have some good news for you this time: I have some actual news!

I'm happy to be able to announce at last that an update is on its way! I’ve still got some assets to make and code cleanup and testing to finish, but I should finally have something to show you soon.

I’ll put a cut at the end of this and go into more detail about the what and why of what I’ve been working on during this long and unintended hiatus, but the tl;dr is that I hope to have an update out by the end of the month, and that said update will break any saves made in Chapter 4. Unfortunate, but unavoidable, since Chapter 4 had to be recoded from the beginning 😞

I just want to thank all of you once again for sticking with me through my extended silence! Especially to my patrons who’ve put up with me putting everything on pause month after month while I dealt with my real life shit, and to everyone who’s sent me kind and supportive messages to let me know Speaker hasn’t been forgotten. It really means a lot to me.

Okay, enough of that sappy shit! I’m gonna get back to work finishing this up 😁 I’ll put out another update later this month once I have a more definite release date.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you’re having a fantastic 2024 so far, and that the rest of the week treats you kindly. See y’all soon! 💙💙💙

(For those who want a more detailed breakdown on what’s been happening and what to expect, hit the readmore)

I won’t go into the personal life stuff I’ve been dealing with this past year that has slowed down my work, but as far as the actual game goes: 

To put it simply, I just wasn’t happy with it. Some of it could be because of how many times I had to reread the same section while I was coding the scenes that would’ve taken place after the last update, but no matter how much I edited or rearranged it, I didn’t like how that scene turned out. There was something… formulaic that had been happening with the way I always laid out scenes, and a bit of stagnation in the story, character, and relationship development that bothered me.

So I rewrote it. And when I still didn’t like it, I rewrote it again. And I still didn’t like it. I thought about scrapping the whole thing on more than one occasion as I struggled to get out of the corner I’d written myself into.

Inspiration finally struck at the beginning of this year, thanks in part to another interactive novel I follow, and I really like the direction I’ve taken it now. 

Instead of the RO split scenes happening where the last one left off, Speaker, Seer, and Gavin are gonna have a chat about Things™ to move the next story arc forward. Then Speaker will get some downtime, by themself at first and then in an extended scene split with the RO of their choosing. 

All the Big Plot Things that were going to happen in Chapter 4 will be moved to Chapter 5 instead, and 4 will be a bit more of a filler episode. A deep breath before the plunge, as it were.

This split won’t just be a quick conversation/reaction from the RO, but a full on different direction for the rest of the chapter based on who you choose. Most of them will involve leaving the house; all of them will involve actual one-on-one time (or one-on-two time, as the case may be) away from the others. And though romance isn’t required, all of them will have the potential to really move the romance forward if you so choose. One or two might even have a lock-in choice (maybe. I’m not 100 percent on that, so don’t hold me to it) 

These scenes won’t be in the next update, because they’re all very complex, but the update will definitely have the Seer chat and at least some of the by-yourself stuff. The update after will have the rest of the alone time stuff (including the clothes/body CC you’ve all been waiting for), and then the one after will start the RO scenes. I think.

I may actually split the RO scenes into separate updates, and let my darlings over at Patreon vote for the order they’re released. That way I can focus on one at a time instead of trying to split my attention six ways at once.

Okay, that’s enough rambling for me today. Time to get back to work! Still got a lot to get done before this is ready, but it’s so close now.

[sunny44]

Chapter 1 (Love is in Mallorca series)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Fem!reader

Warnings: none I guess

Summary: Y/n goes to Mallorca intending to leave her life behind, at least for a while. Then she meets a mysterious guy who makes this trip, to say the least, unforgettable.

Mallorca was stunning, but a certain discomfort grew within me as the days passed. I found myself lost on an island whose beauty was undeniable, but whose language formed an insurmountable barrier.

Since I had arrived, it seemed that the fact that I only spoke English made me invisible. People looked at me in a hurry, or simply ignored my attempts at communication. Sometimes, I wondered if it was just my imagination or if it was really happening.

Tonight, after a long day of walking along the beaches, I decided I deserved a drink. The bar was crowded, full of laughter and conversations in Spanish. The smell of fresh seafood filled the air, and I approached the counter, trying not to seem out of place. I waited patiently for a while, watching as the bartenders moved from one customer to the next, ignoring me with an efficiency that almost seemed rehearsed.

I took a deep breath and approached the counter again.

“A gin and tonic, please?” I asked in English, my voice swallowed by the atmosphere.

The bartenders barely paid attention to me, glanced at me, and simply decided to ignore me.

I waited, hoping that somehow my order would be heard. I looked around, trying to decide whether it would be better to just give up, but before I could step away, I heard a deep, firm voice next to me, speaking in Spanish. I didn’t understand the words, but the tone was clear and authoritative, like someone used to being heard.

The bartender stopped what he was doing and quickly handed over what I had asked for. I turned, surprised, to face the owner of that voice.

He was tall, dark-haired, with slightly tousled hair, but in a purposefully relaxed way. His smile was easygoing, as if saving frustrated tourists was something he did every day.

“Here you go,” he said, with a soft accent, handing me the drink.

“Thank you,” I replied, accepting the glass. “I was beginning to think I was invisible.”

He laughed, a light and sincere sound, as if he understood exactly how I felt.

“It’s not that, but sometimes people here... can be a bit stubborn with those who don’t speak the language.”

I nodded, taking a sip of the drink that was finally in my hands. The refreshing taste of gin with lemon slid down my throat, bringing an immediate sense of relief.

“So, are you from here?” I asked, curious. “Your Spanish is perfect.”

“Thanks, and kind of. I live in Madrid, but my family has a house here in Mallorca. I always come here during summer holidays. And you, what brought you to the island?”

I looked at him, hesitating. He seemed so casual, so at ease, it was hard not to feel at ease as well.

“I actually just needed a break from my life. Something different.”

“You chose well. Mallorca is a perfect place to disconnect.”

He was right. The island was beautiful, and there was much more to explore than I could do on my own, especially with my limited Spanish. Maybe that’s what led me to accept when he suggested he’d show me a few places that, according to him, "no tourist guide would include."

“Shall we take a walk?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with a kind of enthusiasm that was impossible to ignore.

I agreed. After all, I had nothing to lose, and somehow, I felt like I could trust him. But I could also be completely wrong, and he could be a serial killer who would murder me and toss me into the sea.

But I was willing to take the risk.

We left the bar, walking through narrow streets lit by small lights hanging between old buildings. The night was warm and full of life. People laughed at outdoor restaurant tables, and the distant sound of flamenco music filled the air.

“You know, you're the first person who hasn’t tried to correct me or judge me for not speaking Spanish. I know it's annoying when tourists show up and don't even try to speak the language, but I didn't think I’d be completely ignored,” I commented as we walked.

“Sometimes it’s good to just listen and not judge, right?” He smiled, glancing around at the streets around us. “Speaking the language is important, but so is feeling welcomed, even without understanding everything.”

There was something different about walking with him, something that made the city seem more accessible, more inviting. He showed me a small square where there was a fountain with a soft, calming sound, and a local bakery that, according to him, made the best "ensaimada" on the island. Everything felt simpler by his side, no rush, no judgments.

“And you? What do you do for a living?” I asked, genuinely curious.

He smiled but didn’t answer directly, just shrugged.

“Ah, nothing too interesting. I have a pretty hectic life, but here I like to slow down and forget all about work.”

I respected his silence without pressing, and we continued to explore the city at night. He took me to a higher point, where the view of the city and the sea stretched out before us. The city lights reflected on the water, creating an almost surreal sight. I was speechless.

“Wow...” was all I could say.

He looked at me, smiling sideways.

“And they say Madrid has the best views in Spain.”

We stood there in silence for a few minutes, just absorbing the moment. I felt strangely comfortable next to him, as if he wasn’t a stranger I had just met, but someone I could share moments with without the need for explanations.

Finally, he looked at me again.

“If you want, I can show you more places tomorrow. But I promise I won’t take you where the tourists go.” I smiled, feeling a wave of gratitude. “I guarantee I’ll be the best tour guide you’ll ever meet.”

“I’d love that.” He nodded, satisfied.

“Perfect. See you tomorrow, then.”

“Deal.” I smiled.

“Give me your phone number.” He handed me his phone, and I typed it in, saving it as “bar girl.”

We said goodbye, and as I walked back to the hotel, I couldn’t stop thinking about how the night had taken such an unexpected turn. I still didn’t know his name. He hadn’t asked for mine, and somehow, that felt right. We weren’t strangers, but we weren’t acquaintances either. Just two people meeting on a warm night in Mallorca.

And maybe, just maybe, I was ready to find out more about him.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“Summer break”

Masterlist: @lieslostinsilence @iloveallmyboys

@r4zberrygirl @hoya122 @sid-is-gr8

@runs-with-sciss0rs @marvel-ous-miss-maisie

@barcelonaloverf1life @harrysbigrighttoe

Next Chapter

The names with a line on top is because I couldn’t tag

[damn-stark]

Chapter 12 The Siren’s trick

Chapter 12 of Moonlight

A/N- Welcome back Margaery Tyrell and Sansa Stark

Warning- Swearing, talks of death, and sexual harassment, ANGST!!, fluff, SPOILERS, ser gwayne (tehe), LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- Only part of 2x03

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

—Cregan this might be a cold continuation from what I was previously writing, but it cannot be helped. I did not want to leave you waiting, and I did not want you to hear rumors about me. And really, you are the only person I can tell what I’m about to say.

This will be my first and last letter. I am returning to King’s Landing, to infiltrate the Greens on Daemon’s behalf. I did not want to, I had told my mother I was not going, but just tonight they sent someone to kill her in her sleep, she got saved, but I cannot stay here and do nothing when I can be on the other side and be the thing she needs to win this war.

I might be killed, or I might not. I do not know, it’s a risk I am willing to take for my Queen. And if I am killed and this is the last time I ever talk to you, thank you. For everything…

I left my mother a note, I apologized for leaving and bestowing her with even more worry. I told her that I’m willing to do anything to help her get her throne back. Yet the one thing I did not tell her was how scared I am to return.

I’m terrified. I’m truly terrified. I knew fear, I felt it when I was in labor, but this fear I feel now is new, grander, and more horrifying, but it’s my duty to leave and help my Queen even if I have to leave behind all that I ever wanted.

I hope we see each other again. Take care of your boy.

Love, yours truly, your Darling.

“I know I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you apologize to Aerion as he begins to whine after being woken up when you take him from his cradle. “<But we’re going to see your father, hm?>” You try to assure him Valyrian so the guards outside don’t hear and go alert your brother or your mother.

And even if you don’t think Aerion would quite understand what you offer him in return for waking him up, he actually smiles faintly in response before he settles against your chest as you cradle him against you.

Luckily the guards don’t question why you’re taking your child out so late at night, they don’t care that you’re dressed in a different gown than the one you just wore earlier. They watch you scurry away in a hurry without as much as a single comment which will probably get them in trouble with your mother when she finds out you're gone, but they don’t know you’re disobeying her and sneaking off Dragonstone to go into enemy territory.

No one knows, you told no one to make it easier on you

and on them, and also so nobody would try to stop you; even if not so deep below the surface you’re hoping someone will catch you rushing down the corridors and stop you. You don’t want to leave, you don’t want to be under Aegon’s rule now that he’s king and no one can truly tell him what to do. Before he would already get away with commenting stupid shit when Aemond wasn’t around you, and your friend and handmaiden Vanessa was spared from his tactics because you would tell him to leave her alone, but now that he has superior control and power?

But then there’s also Aemond. You don’t want to face Aemond. You don’t want to look into his eye and pretend you’re okay with the heartbreak he caused you and your family. You don’t want to sleep next to the man who killed your brother, and no matter the gaping hole in your chest, you don’t want to let him touch you in the most intimate way. Most importantly you don’t want to leave your family again. You want to stay, you want to fight amongst them.

You want someone to catch you mid-escape and stop you.

Someone. Anyone.

You get closer and closer to the cave's mouth where the dragons come and go, where you’ll find Astraea and Vanessa waiting, and still, no one comes out from the darkness of their rooms, and no guards question why you’re strapping Aerion to your chest as you rush down the corridors.

You’re only paces away. Moments from reaching your dragon, and finally you run into a presence.

“Grandmother,” you mouth breathlessly and finish securing your child’s straps.

Your grandmother looks you up and down, realizing your gown is not one used to sleep, and Aerion is too secure around you to just be heading for a stroll. You’re up to something and she’s the only one to notice.

“Granddaughter,” she greets and glances out the window in the distance to double-check that it is in fact still nightfall. “Why are you not abed?”

You swallow thickly and even if you hope she stops you in your attempts, you interject with your argument. “The Queen got attacked by Ser Arryk, who pretended to be his twin.”

Your grandmother nods. “I heard. That’s why I am here. Is her Grace all right?”

You nod lightly. “Shaken, but okay…I have to do this,” you continue blurting in your defense. “I have to do what Daemon told me to do in hopes that it will be my mother's path to her rightful throne.”

Your grandmother nods again but this time it’s a much more gentle nod as her face fills with concern yet also shows slivers of pride.

“I don’t want to return to King’s Landing, I don’t want her to feel like I abandoned her, but if it stops more of the people I love from dying or getting hurt, and if it gets her on that throne then I have to try,” you share without making it a question because under your hesitation you believe what you say.

“Don't stop me,” you lie and internally shout the opposite with tears clouding your eyes, but not falling because you fight them back to try and look confident. “It’s the right thing to do. And I’m the only one who can do it.”

Your grandmother holds your gaze and right away reads you like a book; she sees your fear, she notices how you plead with your eyes to be stopped, but she also sees your desperation to help, she sees your determination, and your hunger to do more. She sees a warrior, a woman she’s proud of, and she can’t say no to that because she knows that beyond all that fear you’re desperate to help.

“They’re snakes,” she speaks sweetly but with confidence so you could feel the same. “And you’re a dragon. Always remember that.”

You draw in a deep breath and nod slowly. She approaches you and grabs your face, making you look her in the eyes and see the pride she feels for you.

“If you ever find yourself in trouble send me a raven or whatever it is you can. Meleys and I will be there as soon we can, okay?”

You nod in comprehension and grab a hold of her hands as if your life depends on it.

“I love you, grandmother. I will see you again,” you muster to say with a tender smile and no tears.

“I love you too,” she redirects as she caresses your cheeks. “Be careful.”

After one last lingering look you pull away before you’re caught by someone who will stop you, and step out into the cave still hoping the same, but feeling more empowered now to leave and play your part.

The feeling of being so close to the stars does have a way of calming the nervousness that has your hands trembling and ties your stomach into knots. The sight of the glimmering sea basked by the moon's light does help you escape your terrorizing fear and feel at peace, like all you’re doing is taking a late night flight, admiring the stars from the heavens, and answering the sea's call. It's easy to find your resolution in the tranquility, now rather than panic, the belief that your path will lead you right back to Jacaerys, your mother, your grandparents, and your cousins makes you feel at ease over your choice. This is also why you’re leaving, after all, to be with them in a better world.

Yet just as your breaths are calm, and your heart eases to its normal resting beat, the moment you see the crowded and lively city, the large castle on that cliff, and notice all the eyesores that are the Scorpions aligned the top of the wall, your stomach twists tighter to the point you feel like vomiting, your heart pounds faster, and your chest tightens which is a new and unwelcoming change.

“DRAGON!” You hear the echoes of men coming from below as they all work hard to point the scorpions at Astraea calmly coming to a stop so they don’t have the audacity to shoot her.

“Vanessa,” you say and peer over your shoulder. “Wave the white flag so they know we’re no trouble.”

You then glance down at your aware child and caress the back of his little head. “<We’re almost to your father, okay?>” You whisper to Aerion before you press a light feathered kiss on his head. “<You should be sleeping though, hm?>”

Aerion has learned to blow raspberries thanks to his uncle's Viserys and Aegon, so he responds with spit all over your chest.

“<Lovely,>” you mutter, but then again it beats getting peed on. Which he has done, a lot, luckily most times Aemond is the victim of his son's incidents.

“Okay,” Vanessa steals your attention as she grabs onto one of your shoulders to wave the white flag you made sure to bring for this exact purpose.

However, in the midst of waving the flag of peace, and while some guards hesitantly drop their threatening aim, a large arrow is shot at Astraea unbeknownst to you or Vanessa. It comes whizzing at you as the flag continues to be waved in the sky, but luckily, thanks to the gods, Astraea notices the arrow coming at her from the corner of her watchful eye and jolts down before taking a sharp turn.

You let out a shocked gasp whilst also becoming alert of all your surroundings, and Vanessa throws herself on your back to keep herself secured.

The arrow aimed at your dragon's neck luckily flies past you and her thanks to your dragon's efforts, yet missing doesn’t spare your dragon's fury that mirrors yours.

“<Stupid idiots,> you grimace and snap your glare at the men who are to blame, finding them confused but also alert. They don’t see your piercing glare, but your dragon mirrors it before she lets out a loud and furious guttural roar.

“<Astraea,” you call out and lean down as much as you can to caress her side. “Calm down. Calm down, girl.>” you coo in High Valyrian in hopes she’ll listen, but she’s too clouded with anger, after all, she knows you didn’t come with intentions of fighting, and she knows that Vanessa and baby Aerion are straddled on her so she begins to circle around as she shakes her head and keeps throwing out angry shrieks.

“<Astraea,” you call again without losing your patience. “calm down. Calm down. We’re okay. You saved us. We’re okay, calm down girl.>”

Astraea finishes her circle and opens her mouth, letting out low chitters as she prepares to blast out fire at the men responsible.

“<Calm,” you coo and pat her. “Calm, my girl. We’re fine. We’re safe. Calm.>”

Astraea slowly closes her mouth and peers over to meet your gaze and assure herself that you and those with you are fine.

“<We’re okay,>” you assure her and pass her the same emotion with your eyes.

Astraea holds your gaze for a moment longer before she looks ahead at the same time you do.

“Are you okay, Vanessa?” You make sure to ask in the common tongue as you let out a deep and relieved breath.

“Yes, Princess,” she assures you. “Aerion?”

You glance down at your son and see him smiling which probably means he found Astraea’s antics amusing.

“He’s fine,” you say with relief of your own and caress the back of his head while noticing that all the guards now drop their aim and depart from the Scorpions, letting you push your handles forward to nudge Astraea down.

Nevertheless, when Astraea is descending to the ground, just past the Iron Gate, all those nervous and uneasy feelings come rushing back after you were rattled with fear and anger over acts of stupid people who don’t know what white flags mean.

When your feet hit the ground though, and you see castle guards already waiting for you by the gates, all those feelings that overwhelm you, increase tenfold. Now your blood pumps so hard that it interferes with your sight.

“I have renounced the…false Queen Rhaenyra,” you hide the strain in your voice as you say words you don’t mean, before also saying words that actually hurt you to say. “I have come to pledge my loyalty to King Aegon.”

The guards look at one another with confusion so you interject. “Where is Ser Criston Cole? Why is he not here to greet me?”

A commander steps forward and raises his head before he fills their silence without giving you the answer you sought. “Give us your weapons, Princess, and come with us.”

You shrug the satchel of arrows and your bow off your shoulders before grabbing your gown's skirt and pulling it up, making the man look away and miss the dagger you had strapped around your thigh. Once he sees the weapon land at his feet he meets your gaze again.

“I request an audience with the King, and my husband,” you demand with your nose in the air as the men pick up your weapons.

“They were alerted of your arrival,” the guard says and steps back to point ahead.

Before you walk past the gates you scoff and sass him. “Was my husband alerted of the incompetence of your men on the wall, Ser? A white flag means what?”

The man swallows thickly and lowers his head as he doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Surrender or a request for parley.”

You feign a dry laugh and nod. “Yes, yet an arrow was shot at my dragon whilst my son and my handmaiden rode with me. I will have all the names of the squadron who shot that arrow.”

The guard nods and steals a glance back at your dragon still behind you, growling as she watches for any wrong moves that might be made.

“Come with us, Princess,” the guard finally guides you forward and you’re hastily helped in a carriage that rushes you inside the castle walls where you’re immediately repulsed by the green and gold banners that are plastered everywhere.

The sight of them actually saves you from your torment, but only for a little because once you’re inside you’re slammed with all your emotions and you can’t help how your eyesight only seems to focus on what’s directly ahead of you. Everything else is swallowed by darkness as all your senses falter, and your heart and blood pound.

A part of you immediately expects to get ambushed once you walk into the throne room, and another part of you fears being greeted by Aemond alone because you know he won’t delay, he would come straight down the moment he was told of your sudden and ominous arrival. You would worry over Aegon, but it’s still dark out, and you can’t imagine he dropped all his temptations because he was bestowed with a great purpose, so you know for certain he won’t be waiting for you upon the throne.

Nonetheless, when you hold Vanessa’s hand in anticipation and approach the welcoming throne room, all you actually see is an empty hall and an empty seat.

Hundreds of candles light the hall, but it doesn’t make the throne room feel less unsettling. You once used to feel unbothered by the great room, after all, this was your home, you knew the meaning this room held, but you could never say you felt awe. It was another room. Now though, you feel uneasy like, when you walk into a stranger's home. Most of the hall has remained unchanged, besides the banners and large statue of your grandfather King Viserys in construction, but besides that, it's remained the same. Yet you can’t help but feel at odds.

You don’t like the ill feeling, you don’t like that besides the guards and Vanessa, the throne room is lonely. It only works to worsen what you already feel. It only makes the Throne Room seem dark.

You’re consumed by darkness and it makes you want to run and return home where it’s warm and surrounded by those you love. You want to leave. You shift your feet to storm away without any thought, but at that precise moment, the throne room doors open once again, welcoming in a shining light that casts on the ground and rolls down to your feet.

You expect a rowdy greeting from the King, but in the silence you capture the shadow of a tall and slender figure get painted on the ground instead. Now you need no help figuring out who the shadow belongs to, you know who it is without having to look back. Just like you recognize the sound of his footsteps as they climb down the steps.

You would know his footsteps blind and deaf, by the mere vibrations that strike the ground. You could recognize him by just his alluring scent, by his breaths as they furl in and out of his body. He doesn’t need to speak for you to know that it’s your husband, it’s Aemond.

He was the light that filled this hall and unwantedly calmed down your urgency to run.

And as if attracted to the light, you look back. Every muscle in your body yells at you to not look, your mind shouts at you to avert your gaze, but your bleeding heart can’t resist, it makes you look back to see him; the man who killed your brother, your husband, your Aemond, surrounded by the very candlelight that attracted you.

He meets your gaze and you meet his, causing your heart to skip a beat, and a breath to escape past your lips, whilst you also capture the disbelief written so plainly all over his face. It's almost like he can’t believe you’re standing across from him, and how can he?

You look like a dream to him with the way the moonlight and all the stars shining through the large windows bask you in their luminous light, making you look like a beautiful deity. A divine angel sent to him from above with the blessing that is your child.

And how can he not expect you to be some otherworldly presence? He sent letters in hopes you could return home so he could explain what happened because he knows how much you love your brothers, but you never came. Not until now, here you are standing under the throne, watching him without missing a step, with betrayal, and heartbreak he can easily read off your face.

He expected anger, but all he sees is pain. Heart aching pain that sets his world off its axis.

He had hurt you before, six years ago, but not like this. Six years ago when he accidentally cut your face he saw disbelief and horror, pain too, but not like this, he never heard your silent ‘why?’ screams that your eyes shout out at this moment. He never saw sorrow droop your eyes like they do now, and his guilt for hurting you was never as tremendous as it is now.

He hurt you, the one who’s loved him like no one has before. The person who’s brought him only happiness, and a blessing in your son. That’s why he wants you to be angry because he did something he can’t take back—and he does expect you to be overcome with anger later, you’re not one to swallow it down for him. Yet right now all he sees is disbelief and agony that gets more and more painful the closer he gets to you, until finally, you rip your eyes away when he’s only a few feet away.

“Look,” you coo at Aerion with a smile and stinging tears brimming in your eyes. “Look who it is, my love.”

Aerion yawns back mindlessly since he can't pick up on your sadness, he just sees your smile that begins to fade as you pick him. When his eyes drift to the tall man getting closer to you though, that exhaustion that threatened to take him to sleep completely disappears. Instead, his face brightens the moment he sees Aemond, the father he’s longed to see since he left home.

Yet before Aemond can take Aerion in his arms, you halt your attempts to hand your child over when you catch the elegant silver armor of the Kingsguard gleaming against the candlelight as they approach from the far left end of the throne room. Only these Kingsguard members aren’t the ones from before, they’re new, younger, and probably stupider considering they’re Aegon’s drinking buddies.

You would want nothing more than to share a judgemental look with Aemond, but now that he’s closer you can’t even have your face turned his way; which is why you get the perfect view of the Usurper, the false King Aegon, trudging in after his dimwitted Kingsguard with his clothes unbuttoned, his hair unsettled, and his eyes red with exhaustion or something else you don't recognize. Either way, he doesn’t look Kingly, not even when he’s caught off guard, but you’ll give him the benefit of the doubt only because it’s the middle of the night—Unless he’s drunk that is…

“Your Grace,” you utter words that once brought you pride to say to your mother, but now bring you disgust to say to him. Even the thought of bending your knee is a struggle to think about, but you know that you won’t get far without showing the respect he wants to see, so you force yourself down to your knee to someone so undeserving.

Luckily he doesn’t sense that disgust, you mask your emotions well behind your sorrowful face set to hopefully gain their sympathy while you try to enchant them with your plea for mercy.

“So it is true,” Aegon breaks his silence while he slowly approaches you behind his Kingsguard, as if cautious that you would try anything with Aerion still in your arms. “You are here.” He scoffs and you catch a hint of amusement, but you’re left with nothing to do in the regard but pretend.

“I come to renounce the false Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen,” you swallow your pride and leave no pauses, even if you can feel yourself straining as it feels like you’re hurting your mother with such cruel words. “I come to pledge fealty to ward the King, as well as ask for his forgiveness.”

You pause and bow your head so he can feel pride and superior over your current state which is something you never once let him feel with you. Not until now.

“I come to beg for mercy and a second chance,” you go on and don’t stop even if you hear the main doors opening before two pairs of footsteps filter in to join the audience already gathered around you and your handmaiden; as if you were a spectacle to gawk over.

However, in many ways you are, who would’ve thought that Rhaenyra’s own daughter would leave her precious mother's side to join the enemy?

It was expected of you since your husband is part of the green faction, but Rhaenyra is still your mother, and you have had chances to leave her side already but you haven’t until now. Why?

That’s on everyone’s mind but yours, that’s why they watch you carefully and never let Aegon get too close.

“I saw my wrongdoings,” you continue to sing your plea with a soft and sweet voice. “I saw my mistake in trusting Rhaenyra. I cannot stand behind her, I cannot support her after what,” you swallow thickly and look up to meet Aegon’s surprised gaze. “…she did to Helaena and Jaehaerys.”

Aegon’s eyes harden and every form of amusement he had upon seeing you on one knee is lost and replaced by slow-burning anger that is so rare to see on him. Yet it does nothing to actually scare you.

“I'm sorry. Please forgive me, My King.”

Someone falls by your left side where Aemond stands as well, but you don't see who it is because you’re too focused on Aegon parting away from the safety of his Kingsguard to approach you with that same hardened gaze seething with anger.

“To your feet Sweet good-sister,” he rolls out as he also motions you up with his fingers.

You hesitate, but slowly push yourself to your feet, causing Aerion to squirm as sees his father again.

Aegon sees and his lips twitch before he smugly barks an order without letting you out of his sight. “Take the child.”

Your eyes widen and that sorrow you expressed turns to panic. “No!” You cry out and press Aerion against you to protect him from the reaching hands whilst you desperately look over at Aemond with no regard to your previous feelings that were just tormenting you and forbidding you from looking at him.

“He has no fault in this Aegon,” Aemond interjects right away, making you notice Ser Criston is the one by him since he moves in between Aemond when his sword hand twitches.

“Aegon,” you hear the Dowager Queen Alicent interject, giving away the fact that she was the second person who had walked in late.

You had wondered where she was, you’re sure she would’ve been told you were here right away. You suspected she would already be here waiting for you, but she came late.

“What?” Aegon chuckles and raises his hands. “I mean no harm to my nephew. He’s my brother's son. He’s just in the way.” He quips and makes sure to look at you with a new sense of smugness now that he has you rattled.

“No,” you remain defiant and glare at his Kingsguard slowly approaching you while also glancing over at Aemond seething and glaring daggers from the side—“I will not let them touch him. Not them.”

His Kingsguard stop as if they were listening to you and look over at Aegon in confusion as to what to do next. Especially because Aemond still stands there menacingly.

“I will take him,” Alicent volunteers instead of Aemond. “Give him to me,” she tells you and approaches you with her hands out.

You may not like her, but one thing is certain; whatever hatred she has for your mother is never redirected at Aerion, she seems to love him just as much as she loves Helaena’s children. And Aerion does love her too since he is more accustomed to her presence. It’s why after one kiss on your son's head you hand him to Alicent, and motion Vanessa with your eyes to stand by her.

“I never would have expected you of all people to return,” Aegon interjects, making you drift your gaze away from Aerion completely taken by his other grandmother, and refocus your attention on the man before you.

“Yet here you are begging for mercy.” He feigns a smile that falls quickly. “Why should I believe you?” His voice grows cold which contrasts his burning glare.

“Why…” he trails off and smiles tauntingly at the ground before he suddenly lunges at you and grabs you by the throat, but not tight enough for you to actually gasp for air. His grip is just wrapped around your throat.

Not like it matters to Aemond either way because he still reacts in the blink of an eye by trying to lunge at his brother. Albeit he gets stopped right away by Ser Criston; proving to you at that moment why Aemond hadn’t taken Aerion just now, he was more concerned about you and what Aegon had up his sleeve. And he has every right to worry because Aegon is daring now that he’s king, now that he has control and no one to really tell him to stop. He pulls out the Valyrian dagger that your grandfather Viserys would carry, and slowly brings the tip to your throat, making you fear him for the first time. Not because he’s terrifying, but because no one has threatened your life before.

“…shouldn’t I pluck your eyes out and send them to Rhaenyra?” He finishes what he was winding up to say. “Along with your head. Firstborn for firstborn, hm? That would be justice.”

Aegon is careful not to puncture your skin as he drags the tip of the dagger up your face, as if teasing you instead of threatening you.

“She killed my son, why shouldn’t I send her your head?” He sneers as he watches the way he moves the dagger up your cheek. “Unless it was you who sent them.”

The tip of the dagger is pressed against you so you're careful not to shake your head, even if you want to further get your defense across.

“No,” you immediately deny him even if you shouldn’t, you should stay quiet, but you can’t just stand quietly as he wounds you by throwing false accusations of something you would never do. “I would never hurt Helaena,” your voice quivers. “I-I love her. I would never hurt her. I would never hurt anyone’s child, I’m not a monster. I would never do that.”

Tears fall down your cheeks but Aegon wipes them away as he keeps moving the dagger up to bring the tip inches away from your eye, causing Aemond to groan and push back against Ser Criston’s arm.

“Let me talk to her,” Aemond interjects as Ser Criston digs his feet into the ground and fights back the prince's push forward. “I will talk to her Aegon.”

Said man scoffs and shakes his head. “No. Gods no. You’re too enamored by her,” he says and laughs. “She would just bat her eyes and you would let her go. You have always been too sweet on her. No. I will continue talking to her. If she behaves she will not get sent back to her mother. Do you understand?” He directs at you now and shifts his hand holding the dagger, causing the candlelight in the distance to reflect on the smooth metal, and entrapping your attention to the gleam before your focus gets entranced by the fires lit in the metal stands.

It’s just an arm's reach away, you can grab it and tilt it on him. Your hand wouldn’t burn, but he would. He would stop touching you and not be so close. It can work.

But the war wouldn’t end and you would only die or be locked away for certain. You can’t do it, you won’t. Thus you look back at his stupid smug face.

“I will spare your son's life because he’s my nephew, but you,” he presses and brings the knife back down to your throat. “You’re just another bitch—”

You clench your jaw, and Aemond grimaces, making Aegon’s smirk deepen.

“My brother would not do better, but there are plenty of bitches to choose from,” he remarks and starts to rub his thumb on your neck, making you stiffen and start to actually, deeply feel horror.

“Stop,” you plead quietly but loud enough that Aemond can hear. “Stop it.”

Aemond pushes back harder as he hears you, but Ser Criston still manages to hold his ground.

“Why should I not kill you now?” Aegon asks. “You’ve been parading about the Kingdom asking for other Lords' loyalty for your mother. You bent the knee to her. You have no real sense of loyalty.”

“I was wrong,” you repeat yourself. “I was blinded by my love for her, but I am not now. I see clearly now. You are the true King. I see that now. Besides, how could I stay over there with Daemon wanting to kill Aerion for what happened?” You throw out a lie so they’ll be more willing to believe what you're trying to sell. And you actually get Aegon to hum, but as he keeps making you uncomfortable by caressing your neck.

“You do have a dragon,” he gets a point across. “But would you really attack your family?”

“My grandfather,” you blurt in hopes that will get him to stop his threat and stop what he’s currently doing. “My grandfather is going to make Aerion heir of Driftmark, and Lord of the Tides, but those efforts will be for naught if you kill me.”

Aegon glances at his side before slowly pulling the dagger away from your throat.

“If you kill him Aerion would be the next lord of Driftmark, which means that we could give you control of the fleet,” you add, making Aegon stand still for a moment as he takes in what you just said.

“We need that fleet, my King,” Aemond jumps into your defense. “With Aerion being so young we would be in charge until he becomes of age.”

Aegon nods slowly in comprehension but he then tilts his head and clicks his tongue. “But killing Lord Corlys will take time. If it happens at all.”

“I will fight for you,” you roll out as enticingly as you can to try and enchant him with your voice. “Let me fight for you, for my family. I want to come home.”

Aegon sighs deeply and stares deep into your soul without looking for help from anyone. And you look at him and lift your chin slightly to exude confidence you don’t feel at the moment.

Not like Aegon actually notices how shaken and fearful you currently are, or else he would pick on that and really make you feel small. He only sees what you want him to see, it’s why your song works on him and all the others.

“Fine,” he breathes out and finally lets you go, making you fall on your knees out of defeat as to what he was doing, and letting Ser Criston let Aemond go.

“You may return home. You will not join any of my councils obviously, and your dragon will be put in the dragon pit. If you step a hair out of line I will have you killed and sent to your mother.” Aegon clarifies.

Astraea is the way you’ll get your messages across but getting her out will be no problem, and you didn’t expect to be welcomed at the council anyway. The plan was always going to be you using those tunnels your mother used to use. Aemond is the only one you’ll actually disdain.

“You should know,” you mutter to get the last word in, which is bold, to say the least, but you can’t stay quiet after he was touching in that way. “Ser Arryk was killed by Ser Erryk because he was doing his job by protecting the royal family. That’s how I escaped…” you trail off and slowly lift your head to look at Ser Criston with a smugness playing in your eyes.

The Kingsguard briefly meets your gaze before he turns his head away without inputting anything. No one actually says anything in the regard.

Aemond then proceeds to approach you and offer you his hand, but you just glare at him before you turn away and help yourself up to go to Aerion.

“Thank you,” you offer Alicent you’re genuine gratitude before you take back your son.

“Of course,” she says. “I’m glad you’re both back home.”

You offer her a fake faint smile before you turn away and walk back to Aemond to hand him Aerion, who is immediately over the moon by finally being carried by his father. You cannot say the same, you actually make sure to turn away quickly so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. Instead, you address the commander who had greeted you outside to avoid a silence.

“Ser, if you would be so kind as to round up your best men tomorrow at the training yards after breaking fast. My son and I need a sworn protector with this war so rampant. If I depend on the new Kingsguard I’ll find my son sold for a flagon of wine or a pretty whore,” you say without shame and watch the knight snicker and glance over at the men you were so boldly speaking of before he looks back at you and responds with a comprehensive nod, letting you not take a second longer to finally try and leave the damn hall and these people. Yet not before you wipe that smile off the commander's face

“Oh and give the list of names of that squadron to Prince Aemond, he would like to know who the men were that shot at my dragon and our child as we were waving that white flag.” You finish and peer back with a serious look that actually turns out to be menacing.

Once you’re out of the hall, you would have liked to say you could catch your breath and find any sense of satisfaction, but the tension is quick to follow you out.

“Vanessa,” you interject after a while of striding toward the royal apartments. “Just grab a change for tonight and tomorrow morning. We can get anything else we need tomorrow.”

Aemond hears your commands and looks away from Aerion to watch you instead.

“And don’t worry about a cradle, Aerion can sleep on my bed tonight,” you continue to give orders, piquing Aemond’s attention even more, and making him forget that child so fascinated by him.

“What are you doing?” Aemond asks, but you ignore him even if you feel ticked off.

“My old chambers are available, we will both stay there. I won’t put Aerion in danger.”

You know deep down Daemon won’t try and hurt your child unless he means to hurt your mother in the meanwhile, but your hatred for him blinds you and makes you see him as a threat even though there’s no real need for such hostility.

“Yes, Princess—”

“No,” Aemond cuts Vanessa off bluntly. “You will not move the Princess or Aerion’s things anywhere. They will not be moving anywhere. They will stay where we are.”

You clench your jaw but continue to ignore his grating presence, as well as Vanessa’s brewing confusion—“Don’t worry about protection, the night will be short tonight because of how late it already is. We will hopefully have that situated by tomorrow—”

“Are you listening to me?” Aemond blurts and catches you off guard when he grabs your wrist and pulls you to a sudden halt so you can face his pointed glare.

Yet you don’t give him the satisfaction of being submissive, or looking away and walking off. Nor do you actually give him what he wants, at that moment you remember that you have to hold back for the sake of your purpose and your Queen. There’s things you want to remark and throw at him as he ruffles your anger, as you look him in the eye and stand so close, but you need to hold back, it has to be helped even if a cascade of memories follows, and have you challenging his glare for a moment before you rip your eyes away and look at your son in his arms to remind him he’s here witnessing it all.

“Vanessa take Aerion for a stroll so he can fall asleep,” Aemond interjects as he holds your gaze. “It’s past his bedtime. We can spend more time with each other on the morrow.”

Vanessa glances at you for the okay, but you don’t look back at her, you keep your eyes on Aemond even if your heartbeat picks up under his heavy gaze, letting her come to the conclusion herself and take Aerion from Aemond.

The boy does begin to whine after being parted from his father, but you don’t stop her either, knowing that there will be tension you don’t want him to see.

“I am not going to stay in the same room as you,” you make yourself clear and pull your arm away to start storming to your shared quarters.

“Do you think I am going to leave you and Aerion vulnerable and all alone?” Aemond counters, making you scoff.

“Does it really matter what happens to me?” You spat back in regards to who he killed, but he chooses to ignore that.

“Of course, it matters. You know that.”

You shake your head in disbelief and continue on quietly, letting him fill the silence for you. “You will stay where you are. It’s where you belong.”

You continue to stay quiet all the way to your shared chambers, which is unlike you, he wants to hear you argue as if that will help cure the strain made by the murder, but you stay quiet and don’t even fill the air with anything when you’re in your room. You just go and try to grab something to sleep in, but he immediately stops you by grabbing your robe and throwing it aside.

“I said no,” he hisses, but you reach for another, making him grab what you pick up and pull back.

“Let go, Aemond, I am not staying here. I am not going to sleep with you!” You bark back and grab his wrist to yank it away, but he rebuttals by grabbing your hand and overpowering you with ease.

“You are staying, and Aerion is staying here where I can protect him and you,” he makes it clear to you, letting you realize as you try to avoid looking at him that Aerion’s cradle is placed at the end of the bed instead of being in his own quarters.

“I do not need you to protect me,” you counter and let go of the robe to try and reach for another, but he crouches down and grabs your arm right where Daemon had grabbed you, and pulls you up.

“Let me go,” you fight him and ignore the ache in your arms as he presses on your bruises. “Don't touch me. Let me go, you're hurting me.”

As soon as Aemond hears those words his grip eases, letting you rebuttal by pushing him away. “Leave,” you cry out and can’t find the strength to hold back anymore, you forget the role you’re meant to play, your purpose for returning, and let your anger burst out from its confinement, resulting in you shoving him back.

“If you don’t want me to leave then you leave. Go. Get out!” You exclaim.

Aemond lets himself get pushed back again and only makes you grow more aggravated that he refuses matching your anger. “I do not want to see you. I do not want you to touch me. I do not…” you trail off and push him back toward a shelf. “I do not want you here. Get. Out.” You innouncate through gritted teeth, but Aemond doesn’t get the hint, he doesn’t care about the anger behind every shove, or the disdain behind every single word.

“He’s gone because of you. My brother is gone!” You finally express what has been stuck in the back of your throat, what really fuels your anger. You finally share the betrayal that you have harbored and that has played in your eyes since you first saw him in that throne room. “Get out!” You raise your voice and shove him back against a wall, but get no reaction in any way. He lets it happen, he watches your anger, and he lets you express it even if it brings violence.

“Get out!” You cry again and hit his chest, hoping he will move, that he will finally stop infuriating you more and react by at least stopping you, but he doesn’t fight back, like usual.

“Out! Out! Get out, Aemond!” You start to lose your cool and hit him more and more, each time your fists getting backed with more strength, while your chest gets heavy, and your eyes finally start to fill with tears as the sorrow you held back breaks out and starts to accompany your anger.

“Fight me back! Fight back you fucking killer. Fight me back!” You shout shakily. “You killed him. You killed Luke. You took my brother away from me. You…” you come to a stop and can’t yell anymore, your throat stings, and your chest starts to ache to the point it gets hard to breathe really fast. “You…”

Aemond watches you move your hands back to go and hit him again, but this time before you can make contact with his chest, he grabs your wrists and pushes you back, making you hold his gaze as he does so and not let go, even if his gaze his heavy and burns in you, even if he pulls you back to him with ease and causes a warmth to wash over you as he holds you close.

“Let me go,” you try not to mewl, but you can’t help it anymore. You can’t hold that anger over your agony. “Let me,” you groan.

Aemond parts his lips but doesn’t end up saying anything, instead he only attracts your eyes to his lips with this need that comes from deep down. You do manage to drag your eyes up after a second but find his gaze heavy and focused on your parted mouth before he lolls his head to the side, and slowly meets your tear-filled eyes.

You proceed to flicker your eyes down and he leans forward, expecting you to pull away, but you stay put as if magnetized to him. As if a slave to your need dwelling deep inside where you don’t want it to be.

“Aemond,” you whisper and his blue eyes find yours, letting you see how dilated his pupils are, but also how soft his eyes are with…distress you can read with ease.

“Why?” You ask in the intimacy of the moment where it’s just you and him, your husband, your lover, and your best friend. “Why did you do it?”

Aemond's eye falls and his lips slowly form a frown. You want to see what he feels, what he fails to say so you tilt your head down to look into his eye and get your answer, but he turns his head away and mutters. “Why did you come back if you hate me?”

“I…” you don’t finish, but you softly shake your head just enough that he notices the motion and peeks over at you.

You need to say it. You need to say what you’ve felt when you were away. He killed Lucerys, your beloved little brother. He hurt your mother and your brother. He betrayed you in the worst way possible. But those feelings you had thought of only sprung up because you weren’t looking at him. It was easy to think you hated him, but now that you’re looking at him, now that you feel his breath unfurl over your lips, and feel his heartbeat under your palm as you press your hand against his chest, you can’t muster a syllable, or conjure it in your heart. No matter how hard you try.

“I did not come for you,” is all you can muster. “I came for Helaena. Not for you.”

And deep under your conflict and your mission that is true. You did come for her in her worst moments where she needs what her family can never give her.

“Hm,” Aemond hums and welcomes a coldness to your wrists as he finally lets you go.

“You did not answer me,” you bring up your previous question. “Why did you do it? He was sent as a messenger, not a warrior. He was just supposed to deliver a message and get an answer, that's all, so why? Did he do something? Did he say something?”

Aemond swallows thickly and his gaze gets hard before he deadpans. “You and Aerion are staying here. I will lock you in here if I have to. Do not make it hard.”

His gaze lingers on you for a second longer before he slips away even if he knows you are waiting for an answer. Just a simple one if need be, something to give you peace of mind, but he goes to the door looking like he isn’t going to stop until you fall on your knees the moment you can’t hold strong anymore. Everything you felt collapses over you and you break down.

Aemond hears your sobs, it unsettles him, and tugs at his heart, but even if you’re the only one who can ever cause such an effect, he doesn’t go to your side even if at that moment you wouldn’t have pushed him away. He lets out a deep breath and leaves you alone.

He doesn’t return until hours later just moments before the sun could break into the sky, finding Aerion fast asleep in his cradle, and you balled up on your side of the bed. He thinks you're asleep, but you couldn’t find it, so you heard him walk in quietly.

You hear him take his belt off, and pull his boots off to be able to approach the end of the bed without alerting the sleeping babe, going unaware at that moment of you peeling one eye open to watch him caress Aerion’s cheek ever so gently as to not wake him before he smiles faintly, causing your own heart to involuntarily pick up in its speed before it jolts when he steps back.

As to not get caught you immediately shut your eye and listen, catching his footsteps go around the bed and approach you.

At first, you think he’s going somewhere else, but his scent then intoxicates you as he stops beside you, causing your racing heart to ease as if his scent was the only key to calm down. He proceeds to stare and you know that you feel that deep down, you feel his eye on your face before it leaves a burning trail down the upper half of your body.

When it comes to your exposed arms that you can’t hide anymore, he hooks his finger on the blanket and gently pulls it down before he runs the tip of his finger on the bruise marked on your flesh, and keeps it there as if the touch alone will give him the answer as to what happened.

After a moment he groans with what seems to be frustration before he lifts his fingers and suddenly surprises you by caressing your cheek before he brings his face down, letting his long silver hair tickle your shoulder, while his breath unfurls over your cheek.

You try not to hold your breath or move, but he makes it hard as he lets the warmth of his lips mingle over your cheek.

Is he going to kiss you or not?

Yes?

No?!

You wait and wait until he suddenly pulls back and his footsteps recede, letting you open your eye to catch him walking around the bed as he takes his vest off, showing how his back muscles move fluidly with him. And thanks to the light starting to peek in you can see how smooth and sculpted he looks under such a soft light.

You want to see his face, his torso, and those perfect abs, but you close your eyes and remember what he’s done, and once again you’re cast with…sorrow.

——

*LATER*

Stupid ache…

“Vanessa, could you have tea prepared for breakfast? I woke up with all different kinds of aches,” you grumble and slip on your shoes. “My head is aching, and I feel a bit nauseous.”

Vanessa hooks the last jeweled chain on your back to the golden broach on the shoulder part of your deep blue gown, and then slowly peeks out from the side with her eyes filled with curiosity. “Princess I have been meaning to ask. When you were in Winterfell…”

Oh is she trying to get the gossip? With everything that went on after you returned from the North, you never had time to tell her what happened.

“Did you…”

Before she can finish what she was building up to the door opens and Aemond walks in with Aerion, making Vanessa groan because once again she was left to hold in her question.

“I will prepare the tea for you princess, but perhaps you should see the maester?” Vanessa purposely says at the wrong time, causing Aemond to peek over—“You did not eat your dinner yesterday because of your stomach ache.”

You side-eye Vanessa, but she doesn’t care that she just blurted your troubles for Aemond to hear, she slides behind you to fix the jeweled chains on your back.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond interjects in your silence.

You drop your eyes to avoid looking at him in the mirror and with your fingers trace the gold design that swirls with the wave patterns on your blue gown.

“Nothing,” you deadpan.

Aemond stays quiet for a second before you hear his footsteps approach you. “I saw bruises on your arms,” he doesn’t hold back from bringing up. “What happened?”

He will ask Vanessa, and she will tell him, so you just answer him in the most serious voice so he knows that his presence bothers you. “Daemon happened. He wanted me to leave and he was not kind about it.”

There's a second of silence before you hear a deep and frustrated sigh. You dare yourself to look up and catch Aemond’s gaze on your arm before he blinks and tries to meet your gaze, but comes up empty-handed when you look at Aerion instead.

“<Did you have a good time, my little dragon?> You speak to him in High Valyrian and watch him wave his hands excitedly.

“My grandmother says he could start eating solids when he’s 5 months old,” you direct at Vanessa, making her step away and nod with a happy smile.

“Yes, it’s possible, he’s starting to sit up alone, so he’s almost there.”

You grin at your child and caress his chin. “<Hear that? We will get you nice and plump in no time. As of now…” you trail off and take him from Aemond to walk away from the mirror. “How would you like to go with Aunt Helaena and your cousin Jaehaera, hm?>”

Aerion responds by reaching for your dangling earrings, so you lean your head away and shake your head, only getting him more intrigued.

“I’m heading to a council meeting,” Aemond says as you continue avoiding him. “I will talk to the maester to come see you later.”

“I can seek the maester myself,” you quip and scrunch your nose at Aerion to try and make him smile.

Aemond stays still and quiet before he walks away. When he reaches the door you peek over and see him stop again before he turns his head, but not completely. He just stands there for a moment with his gaze in the corner of his eye before he just walks out of the room.

“I do not know how I will do it,” you mumble to Vanessa the moment the door closes and he’s walking away. “I can not…pretend to be okay with him. I know I must try, but…I see…what my mind thinks what happened that day, and I get angry and sad.”

Vanessa walks to you to take Aerion and face you with a pitiful frown. “It will be hard, but you will not get anywhere if you do not try. Just take it step by step.”

You sigh deeply and nod softly. “I will leave now too to listen in to the meeting,” you change the subject. “I should make it back for breakfast with Helaena, I should not take long. That’s not my intention anyway.”

“Be careful,” your handmaiden warns you. “Try and remember your way back. Good luck.”

You giggle and pat her shoulder. “I will be alright. I do wish my cat was here though. He would make it easier to make my way around. If anyone asks for me just tell them I went for a stroll to catch my breath.”

Vanessa nods hesitantly and seems to want to input another warning, but she just bites her tongue and watches you walk out the secret door hidden in your quarters

At first, you admit you feel a bit turned around, all the damn tunnels are built almost identically. Plus there’s only the torch that you light as a form of light until you reach small windows, but those aren’t everywhere. Luckily though, you manage to remember where the council hall is. You do arrive a bit later than you hoped, but you got there all the same.

And it seems Ser Criston just arrived too, going off his greeting.

“Forgive my lateness,” you catch Ser Criston interject as he seems to sit down.

“Important business, no doubt,” you cringe at Aegon’s grating voice.

“You appointed new knights to the Kingsguard, Your Grace?”

Ser Criston is barely asking that? They were with the King last night.

Some commander he is.

“To replace those we lost,” Aegon remarks.

“The last one needlessly, some might say,” a man comments quietly but full of judgment. You can’t say you can place a face or a name to the voice though.

“Ser Arryk was awarded the great duty of ending Rhaenyra’s challenge,” Ser Criston argues pointlessly. “He failed to discharge it.”

At least he recognizes that error.

“He failed because the scheme was rash,” you hear the Dowager Queen interject before getting countered by the Commander of the Kingsguard.

“Perhaps, Your Grace but we cannot all hide in our castles waiting for war to come to us.”

You have to admit that it is true, but that does not excuse the stupid act they sent Ser Arryk to do. The Kingsguard protecting your mother aren’t bad at their jobs like he is.

“As now it surely will,” Alicent quips.

“As, now,” Aemond interrupts the bickering, managing to catch your breath in your throat at the mere sound of his voice. “It already has. House Bracken took it upon themselves to attack the Blackwoods who declared for the pretender. Lord Samwell Blackwood himself is slain.”

“Good,” Aegon says. “First blood in our name.”

Ugh, idiot.

“Both sides took heavy losses, Your Grace,” you recognize Ser Tyland made a point the King failed to see. “I-I’m not entirely certain we can declare this victory—”

“The Blackwoods and the Brackens had feuded for centuries. This is nothing more than an excuse for them to indulge their ancient grudge. It’s no true war.”

A sudden pound against the table shuts the speaking Lord up and makes you press yourself closer to the wall.

“Call it what you will,” Aegon follows by saying, making him the one who pounded whatever it was on the table's surface. “I call it war. And so will Dragonstone. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

What is there to do? It was a stupid squabble between feuding families. There’s no significant point behind that bloodbath.

“We send a raven to Lord Tully,” you hear the maester come up with a solution amongst the other heads around the table. “These houses are his vassals, are they not? He must control them.”

“Lord Grover Tully is a flaccid, old fool who couldn’t control his cock in a cunny,” the Lord you don’t recognize cuts in with a hint of judgment. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace.”

“Do you have any better suggestions, Lord Jasper?” Aegon asks and once and for all brings a name and face to the voice.

“Your Lord Uncle Ormund marches from Old Town at the head of a great host, Your Grace,” the Lord rebuttals. “And your brother Daeron’s dragon nears fighting age. Call on them to suppress the Riverlands.”

Yes with Caraxes and Daemon going to the Riverlands? Tessarion would get ripped to shreds, he’s no more experienced than your dragon.

“At least they are months away,” Ser Tyland interjects. “My Lord brother Jason is raising a great army at Casterly Rock. In a matter of weeks, he will be able to harass the Blackwoods from the west—”

“Should we not aim to unite these armies?” You’re surprised to hear the maester give his opinion. “And then strike as one?”

He has a point. One big army is better than small ones.

“Ah,” Ser Tyland interrupts as he laughs mockingly. “The great military mind of the Citadel. Do remind me—”

Oh gods can this get any more childish?

Here instead of questioning the ruler they bicker with each other.

“This council must rediscover the discipline it lately had if its to be of any use,” Alicent thankfully shuts them up.

“The Riverlands are the key to the war,” Ser Criston moves the meeting forward over his rattling armor. “Harrenhal is the key to the Riverlands. I will ride out with those I can muster here. Men I know, men I’ve trained.”

Your interest finally piques and you push yourself off the wall to lean your ear close to the gaps on the wall that look in the council room.

“You need time to raise the numbers to challenge the Rivermen,” Alicent makes a smart point, but Ser Criston doesn’t seem to see it that way.

“Speed is my ally. I will turn the Crownland houses who declared for Rhaenyra to our cause. We will add their numbers to our own then turn west. Where I will enlist the Brackens, subdue the Riverlands, and take Harrenhal.”

Well, that’s a mighty goal. Smart yet a bit far-fetched.

“So impatient to ride with so few men,” Alicent says. “So like to be destroyed by the first stronghold you meet. A bold scheme indeed.”

Yes, especially because Daemon is also currently going to take the Riverlands as well.

“Well, the gods favor the bold,” Ser Criston quips a stupid comment that Alicent thankfully strikes down.

“They did not favor Ser Arryk.”

Ser Criston chuckles before he turns to get the favor from a war-thirsty mongrel. “What say you, my King?”

“And you’ll take Aemond and Vhagar?” Aegon asks, making you hold your breath out of anticipation as to what the response will be.

“Vhagar will remain here,” Ser Criston immediately lets you breathe, and doesn’t let the running thoughts that were building up, rush out and make a mess in your mind—“to defend the city.”

“Good. To war then,” Aegon exclaims, making Ser Criston hum in agreement and get the approval he was seeking for from the king.

“I’ll come, too, with Sunfyre,” Aegon continues making your lips twitch.

“Aegon,” Alicent calls out in protest.

“Your Grace.”

“You’ll need a dragon,” Aegon quickly throws out, making Ser Criston argue back.

“My plan is not to draw attention.”

“And-and what will you do if you encounter one or more of Rhaenyra’s dragons?” Aegon asks and you can’t help but answer in your mind that he’ll hopefully die.

“She’ll want to answer for Ser Arryk,” Aegon adds.

“We will be more like to encounter one if we field one of our own,” Ser Criston tries to make it clear to Aegon.

“That is precisely why you must remain, brother,” Aemond says calmly which actually surprises you. You would’ve thought he would volunteer to fight with Vhagar. “It’s a brave thought, but we cannot risk your loss.”

You smile in amusement at his words obviously not laced with genuine care.

“I’m as fearsome as any of them,” Aegon argues, making you stifle your laugh during the short and awkward silence that follows.

“We must also raise the matter on…” Lord Jasper interjects hesitantly after. “The Princess’s arrival. It is ominous, to say the least, and suspicious considering how much Rhaenyra coddles her children. We must press her for what she knows. If it’s true that she has switched loyalties—”

“No,” Aemond counters, making your heart skip a beat. “You will not do such a thing. I will talk to my wife.”

“We have already discussed all the matters with the princess herself,” Alicent interjects. “Her dragon will be put in the dragonpit, and we will keep a watchful eye on her.”

No tongues rise on the matter because no one wants to face Aemond’s wrath because he, unlike Aegon, has proven himself to be fearsome.

Nevertheless, you use this as your cue to leave and return to your quarters before you can be caught, finding it a much easier venture back than when you came. You surely do relieve Vanessa of any stress she harbored as she dramatically over-worried herself that you would get yourself lost.

“We should head out now,” you don’t take a moment to catch your breath or write the first letter to your mother about what you just heard.

“Is everything all right?” Vanessa queries.

You take Aerion from her and nod. “Things are as good as they will be at the moment. I need to send a letter to my mother to let her know what Ser Criston is going to do. Hopefully, Aemond is not clinging today.”

“We can always find a way to part from him,” Vanessa looks at the bright side. “It does not seem like he will be around much with this war needing constant attention.”

You scoff as you walk out of your room. “You would be surprised,” you mutter in return.

The moment you are out of your room and head to Helaena’s new chambers, you feel a sense of nervousness knot your already nauseous stomach, and rush through your veins to the point your hands begin to tremble at the thought of facing Helaena; seeing her grief, and seeing her pair of twins be left to one child.

It was not so long ago when you would both escape to your little Island with your dragons and her children. Now those are tainted memories of what she doesn’t have anymore.

What if she thinks you betrayed her and hates you for it?

You would understand, you would obviously try and explain that it wasn’t you so she knows she’s not alone in her grief, that she has you in the same way she has had you for the past year, but ultimately you would not blame her. It was Daemon, your family, your infamous side who killed her child.

Yet no matter how much your thoughts pester you, or how much you want to turn tail and return to your quarters, you’re more daring when it comes to her. You do hesitate a moment as you stand outside of her door with Aerion in your arms, but after beating down what’s making you hesitate, you knock and let your presence know.

Silence passes for a few minutes making you think you came too late, but then a few seconds later the door is opened by one of her ladies-in-waiting, leaving a clear view of her to you, and you to her.

“Good morning,” you greet softly as you walk in, seeing her put down what she’s sewing before she slowly meets your gaze with puffy eyes, but no tears brimming within. Her grief is clearly painted but it does not seem to bring her down like you thought it would. Still, you don’t feel any less guilty or sorry.

“Good morning,” she greets in return and then finds your son in your arms. “Good morning to you Aerion.”

The baby watches her before his eyes dart to Jaehaera and he becomes instantly infatuated with the little girl, so much so that he throws himself back against you out of glee.

“Someone’s happy to see you,” you direct at Jaehaera approaching you.

“Me?” She points at her chest and then flashes a grin that grows wider when you crouch so Aerion can be at her level.

“Hello Aerion,” she tells the baby and gently grabs his hand, making the baby firmly grab onto her.

“I missed you,” she tells him and shakes his little fist, making him slowly try and bring her hand to his mouth.

“He’s strong,” she comments with a giggle before she pulls her hand away and looks at you. “Can I play with him?”

“He’s a babe,” Helaena points out to her daughter, making her sigh.

“Well,” you try to console her. “He can sit with you and he can happily watch you play while he plays with some of toys of his own. You have to wait until he’s older so he can play with you.”

Jaehaera frowns, but she doesn’t argue. “All right then.”

You flash her a smile and stand to your given height to give Aerion to one of the wetnurses, so they can take the children to a different corner of the room while you talk to Helaena before your breakfast gets here.

“I planned to have breakfast a bit unexpectedly, I hope that’s all right,” you direct at Helaena who is watching her daughter for a moment before her eyes drift back to you.

“There’s no problem,” she assures you, making you nod gently before you grab your hands and fiddle with your fingers as you carefully think of what to say.

“Helaena,” you whisper, making her hum to probe innocently.

Before you can continue you briefly glance at her sitting on a couch before you go and sit next to her, making her turn to face you as you continue to struggle with how to tell her everything you feel in the bottom of your heart.

“I…I’m sorry,” you say what you have already told so many people, yet it’s not something you will get tired of saying because you can’t help or ignore your guilt, nor does this grief end. It keeps coming and coming.

“I’m sorry for what happened to Jaehaerys,” your voice quivers, and tears, the one thing you are tired of, well in your eyes, making them sting. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

Helaena’s eyes fall on her hands, and her lips fall to a small frown that only tears at your wounded heart even more.

“I know it must be hard, but I cannot be here and not come tell you that I am deeply sorry,” you continue as she stays quiet, and slowly reach for her hand. You know she’s not fond of intimacy, but you don’t overstep, you just drop your hand on hers, and she doesn’t move it away at that moment. Her hands stiffen but she lets you hold her hand.

“You and your children did not deserve that, he did not deserve that. I’m sorry,” you add softly, making her trail her eyes up to meet yours.

“But it is not your fault,” she says and surprises you. “You did not do it. Why are you sorry?”

You part your lips but can’t muster a thing, instead, you drop your head and lick the salty tears that roll down your cheeks and fall on your lips.

“Because it was not fair,” you bring up what you feel. “Because…it was a cruel thing to do, and agonizing to go through. Because…I know who sent those killers to you.”

A silence follows where Helaena slips her hand over yours and carefully wraps your hand with hers, making you blink repeatedly in disbelief before you meet her gaze with that same emotion in your eyes.

“It was still not your fault,” she presses ever so sweetly. “You did not send those killers, nor did you commit the act. I do not blame you, nor do I hate you.”

Your breath catches and a smile slowly tugs on your lips as your tense body eases with the relief that washes over you.

“I’m here for you, you know that? If you need someone to talk to, or a shoulder to cry on, I’m here for you. Always. I love you Helaena.”

She nods softly and offers you the sweetest smile that reminds you of the sweetest spring days. “I know,” she whispers.

You don’t expect her to say it in return, but you know her true feelings with the hand still wrapped around you.

“Why are you here though?” She suddenly blurts.

“I-I,” you pause out of confusion, but give her a clear answer. “I’m here for you.”

Helaena shakes her head and pulls her hand away. “You are not listening, why are you here? You should not have come.”

Your tears dry, and your confusion leaves no trace of the joy you were just beginning to feel

“I see it,” she presses and leans towards you. “A crown on a black veil.” She nods as if that helped you in some way. It only leaves you lost and a bit concerned.

“Okay…” you just give her the satisfaction of an answer to not leave things awkward. “Breakfast should be—”

And just as you’re going to finish, the doors open and servants with breakfast come in.

“I think Aemond missed you,” Helaena interjects while the breakfast is being placed. “And Aerion. He had his cradle moved after what happened with Jaehaerys.”

“Yes,” you mumble. “So I saw.”

Helaena gets off her seat and you mirror her to follow her to the round table, finding that breakfast looks unappetizing. The food looks good, but the nauseousness you feel is still lingering within you.

“Helaena I was thinking perhaps you could accompany me to select my new sworn protector,” you fill the silence as you take a seat. “I think getting out of your room and taking some air would be nice. Besides, I think a nice stroll in the gardens afterward would be nice, the weather is agreeable.”

Helaena sits beside you rather than in any other empty seat and looks at you before she queries. “What of the new Kingsguard that Aegon appointed? Why don’t you pick one of them?”

You meet her gaze and giggle before you look at the tea you requested getting placed in front of you. “No,” you put it simply. “One, that would be pretty foolish and Aemond would never allow that.”

She hums and the corner of her lips twitches. “I’m sure if Aemond could, he would be stuck to you like a shadow.”

You laugh softly and nod. “He tries.”

“I hope you and him reconcile,” she says. “It’s nice seeing him laugh with you.”

You swallow thickly and answer honestly. “I think it will be hard forgiving him for what he did.”

She hums and says one last thing. “Just do not wait too long, okay?”

Your heart skips a beat and your eyebrows furrow but you offer her a soft smile and nod. “Okay.”

She holds your gaze a second longer before she reaches over to serve herself some food. You try and do the same, but your stomach stops you from really desiring anything.

Helaena notices your reluctance and interjects as she leans toward you. “You should eat, it’s not good for the babes if you do not.”

Your eyes widen and slowly meet her gaze expressing only utter disbelief. “What?” You deadpan.

All Helaena does is offer you a simple smile before she starts eating, leaving you overcome with confusion, even if deep down what she said starts to make sense; Your over-exhaustion, your stomachaches, and headaches.

And it would track, Aemond and you did have sex before you left for Dragonstone, but…Cregan and you…

No…that’s a possibility you do not want to think about, and he’s always careful, and you…did not take Moontea this time, but it can’t be true, him being related is especially not true.

IF what Helaena said was true the babes are Aemond’s. And that’s even if Helaena is telling the truth, sometimes she has the tendency to say things that don’t make sense. Just like this, it's all just a jumble of words.

You will choose to believe that until you talk to someone who can actually prove it. Until then you pay all your focus on your breakfast with Helaena and keep yourself even more busy with choosing your sworn protector already discreetly picked by Daemon of all people.

You did not think he would care that much as to pay someone to keep you and your son safe, but here you are now standing on a balcony over a courtyard, hearing metal sing over the chaos playing all about the castle as men prepare to go to war with Ser Criston.

Usually, men just line up, and someone shares their achievements and a summary of how they became so high ranked and so on, but that all sounded so boring and you have lacked fun so you chose for a not-so-commonly picked choice and had them just demonstrate their skill.

“Perhaps there’s no need for such a show of violence,” Helaena gives her opinion as she stays back in her seat. “Go with the man Aemond wants you to pick.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “No,” you deadpan and cross your arms over the railing to lean your head over and watch as a man with short black curly hair suddenly pulls his cloak off to hurl it at his opponent and blind him.

You grin at his quick thinking and watch this tall, well-built man kick his opponent back while he’s blinded and trying to take the cloak off his face, resulting in the cloak to slip off but a few seconds too late because the intriguing man pulls out a dagger and thrust forward.

Albeit the opponent blocks his attempts with his arm, making you unfold your arms to press your hands on the cold stone and push yourself forward out of excitement.

The man proceeds to use his arm to dismantle his opponent's block by shoving his arm away, before he quickly grabs his arm and spins around him to be able to wrap his other arm around his opponent's neck, and point the tip of his dagger at an artery; with that finishing the last match, and making you beam and clap.

“Well fought!” You exclaim, causing the man to let go of his opponent so they can both face you and bow their heads. “What’s your name Ser?”

The man you called on lifts his head and you meet the most mesmerizing blue eyes that remind you of the bluest sea water.

“Ser Jason Waters, Princess,” he announces, making your grin twitch as you realize that this tall man below is the man Daemon hired for you.

“A bastard from King’s Landing,” the commander beside you whispers in your ear as if that affects his quick thinking or his battle experience—“Go with Ser Aldous from the Crownlands. That’s the man your Lord husband thought capable. He has battle experience, and he is well-honed.”

You scoff and give him the same attitude you just gave Helaena. “I do not care what my Lord Husband wants, and bastard or not that does not affect Ser Jason’s skill. Tell me his triumphs.”

The man hesitates but responds with what you asked for. “He fought at the Stepstones when he was ten-and-six with Prince Daemon until the war ended.”

You look over to flash the man a smile as you hit your palms on the stone. “See, he has battle experience too.” You look back at the man and focus your eyes on the scar that travels from the right corner of his forehead and all across his face to end on the left corner of his jaw.

“Tell me, Ser Jason, how did you get your scar?” You probe with genuine curiosity. “My grandfather Lord Corlys says a scar is always a story. What is your story?”

Ser Jason huffs lightly and glances down with a small smile that carves adorable and deep dimples on his cheeks.

“I,” he clears his throat and bats his lashes before he faces you. “I fought a Dothraki Screamer after I departed from the Stepstones.”

Your eyes widen and you quickly poke him for more with a bit too much excitement. “A Dothraki Screamer? Really?!”

He nods. “He almost took my face but I ended up winning,” he boasts with a shy smile. “Not that I am saying it was easy. It was…it was difficult.”

Your smile widens at his stumble of words before you look at the Commander. “Has Ser Aldous fought a Dothraki screamer and won?”

The commander sighs and argues. “But Prince Aemond—”

“I will make sure Prince Aemond does not take his anger out on you. I made this choice, I am capable of choosing a worthy protector for me and my child,” you interject to assure him, but then Helaena breaks her silence by calling your name before giving her opinion.

“Maybe you should listen to Aemond. I do not think Ser Jason is a wise choice.”

Her eyes snap to the man she can see through the gaps of the railing, and draws in a deep short breath before meeting your gaze and breathing out.

“You worry,” you tell her. “Just like, my Aemond. It’s okay.”

Helaena holds your gaze for a second longer with a very hard and pressuring look before she drops her head and nods stiffly.

“Let me just close this matter up and we can go for our stroll,” you assure her and return your attention to Ser Jason. “I will see you on the Morrow for your first day, Ser Jason. Thank you. And thank you to the rest of you, do not worry I am sure your skill will still be needed, I will make sure to recommend you to good positions.”

The other knights bow their heads to express their gratitude, but you focus on the man in the middle and understand now why Daemon chose him of all people to protect you and Aerion while you’re here in the jaws of the enemy. He’s well-traveled and has been holding a sword since he was a boy.

You have to give Daemon his flowers for this one thing.

“Thank you, Princess,” Ser Jason speaks up with his head raised and a crooked smile on his lips. “You bring me a great honor. I will protect you and yours with my life. I will not let you down. I will guard you even from the shadows that lurk in the night, and the cowards who call themselves men.”

You offer him a faint appreciative smile and as his crooked smile falls to a soft and gentle one, his blue eyes seem to deepen more, bringing this innocent look on his face that slowly pulls your smile down as you’re reminded of your sweet brother, Lucerys.

He would have been Lord if he had lived to be older. He could have had many different dangerous experiences like this man, he could have grown as sweet looking as this man, and held great achievements like this man, but he can’t. He was taken before he could really live a life of his own. Now you’re left just looking at this man below and getting reminded of what can’t flourish because Aemond made sure to kill it.

“Thank you, Ser Jason,” you offer the man softer than before and give him one last smile before you turn to try and leave. However, before you can you catch this certain familiar gleam in his eyes that steals your attention for a lingering second before you rip your eyes away and finally give Helaena all your attention.

“Now my Sweet aunt,” you probe as you hold your hands before you. “Why do you doubt Ser Jason?”

Helaena glances at you with a bit of surprise because you’re asking her for her thoughts that others would have disregarded.

“I just,” she says and turns her head away as she holds her hands. “I have a bad feeling about him.”

You take in what she says and quickly try to reassure her. “It’s normal to doubt people now more than ever, we are at war and tragedy has befallen everyone, but we cannot live our lives paranoid. But I will tell you what, I will be cautious, okay?”

Helaena nods softly and you add a remark. “Plus, the knight Aemond picked was old don’t you think?”

Helaena giggles and nods. “He was.”

“I’m sure it was done on purpose,” you comment on your husband's jealousy.

“You think?” Helaena asks, making you nod with a teasing smile playing on your lips.

“I know so. Now,” you change the subject to something she likes. “Tell me what have you caught as of late?”

Helaena’s shoulders release from their tense hold and her eyes glimmer for the first time. “I caught fireflies the other day by the pond, but I think they’re too beautiful to keep, so I let them go.”

You hum and feed her interests. “They are quite fascinating, they’re like little stars.”

She hums and carefully holds some of your fingers, making your heart happily skip a beat. “Did you know that they flash their lights for different stuff? Like when they’re trying to attract a mate, or deceiving others,” she muses. “And many people mistake them for flies or bugs, but they are beetles in truth.”

You hum. “I did not know that,” you share.

“Well, now you do.”

You giggle and nod. “Yes, I do. Now I think if I could be any insect I think I would be an orchid mantis. They are very beautiful.”

Helaena laughs softly and lolls her head towards you. “You’re funny.” She says, making you smirk.

You end up taking the long way to the gardens and find yourselves walking through the training yard that is flooded with men all preparing to go off to war, but halting the moment they all spot Queen Helaena walking by. All except for one man in bulky silver and green armor; he walks away from his horse with a half-smug smile on his face. And it's only when you get closer that you start to predict who he might be just going off the flaming tower on his chest plate.

“My Queen,” he finally pays his respects and bows his head. “And…” he leaves room for you to introduce yourself, and you do, making his eyes brighten and the smile turn more smug.

“Ah, the Realms Golden Girl, how nice it is to meet you at long last,” he rolls out of his tongue with a sense of cheekiness, but not filled with deceit, more so like he’s trying to seduce you.

But, as charming as he does speak, he can’t reel you in. You smile, but you also glance at Helaena in confusion, yet she doesn’t seem to understand you asking for help, so the man before you bows his head at you before he finally introduces himself; “I am Ser Gwayne Hightower.”

Ah, Alicent’s brother.

“It is an honor to meet you. I have heard a great deal about you,” you just say out of respect but you could care less even if he is a bit handsome for a Hightower.

“Hm,” he hums with a growing smirk. “In all my comings and goings never have I met such an enchanting beauty,” he flatters you and you can’t help but show off a shy smile—“my nephew is a lucky man.”

You scoff softly and he leans closer. “I am going off to battle with the Lord's Hand…”

You scoff at the title given to such an unqualified man and he seems to catch your drift and matches your mocking smile before he continues.

“I would fight more fiercely if you granted me your hand,” he speaks smoothly, but you still don’t fall prey to his attempts. Albeit you do give him your hand and watch him gently bring your hand up to his lips to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Once he lets go of you his smug smirk deepens.

“I wish you well in your travels, Ser, I hope to see you again,” you offer him even if deep down you do not mean it at all and you pray and hope for his and all their downfalls. “Now if you will excuse me, the Queen and I have to go.”

“Of course.” He bows his head at you before drifting his attention to Helaena one more time. “My Queen.”

She offers him a faint smile before she pulls you away with her to finally get away from the clustered place and walk through quieter spaces until you both find joy and peace in the castle gardens.

Winter is coming, like the Stark’s like to say, but the garden does not lack life. It’s a lively contrast to the chaos ascending everywhere, and a peaceful escape where you can admire the vibrant autumn flowers that show their beauty off like stars at night. The trees are bare with the leaves rusting and breaking away, but the vibrant leaf colors that litter the ground steal the attention from its emptiness. The only thing that does make the garden feel lackluster is the lack of roses. They don’t bloom like they do Winterfell.

“Look,” Helaena calls for your attention and makes you tear your gaze away from the calm sea in the distance. “An orchid.” She shows off the beautiful light pink flower before she drops it on your lap. “Now you’re one step closer to becoming an orchid mantis.”

You burst out laughing and she giggles with you.

“You know,” you add after you catch your breath. “I have this gown I have been meaning to wear. It has blue winter roses embroidered on the corset and on the borderlines of the skirt. It is very beautiful. We should have a gown designed for you of your favorite flower so we could show off together.”

Helaena hums and nods. “I would like that.”

“Good.” You say with a smile and stand back up to continue down the gardens, coming to find Lord Larys Strong wandering around the pond.

“Your Grace. Princess,” he greets and bows his head.

You offer him a faint smile in return and steal a glance around before addressing him. “Enjoying the kind weather?”

He hums. “Making the best of it before winter comes.”

“All we will get is light snows and bitter winds this far South,” you bring up and walk closer to him with Helaena falling behind. “We will live.”

“I suppose winters here don’t compare to those in the North,” he says, and you shake your head lightly before peering back to watch Helaena slowly make her way to you.

“I would just like to say that it is odd seeing you and Prince Aemond be so estranged,” he says and slowly drifts back to him. “Not long ago you were almost inseparable.”

You avert your gaze and purse your lips together before you mutter your comment. “Well, sadly there are matters that create a strain.”

“I am sorry to hear about your brother's passing, it was such a tragic affair.”

Your eyes snap up and rather than expressing gratitude, you hardened your gaze to pass him a warning glare so he can tread carefully.

“Marriage is a complicated thing, more so with a war that tears your gaze between two sides, and secrets that lurk beneath the surface,” he doesn’t listen, he’s bold, so you lift your chin and make your glare more menacing.

Lord Larys catches the threat behind your glare and checks that Helaena is distracted by what’s in the pond before he quietly brings a point to this babble.

“I just hope Prince Aemond’s frequent brothel visits are not the secret truly keeping you apart.”

Your heart drops and every attempt to be seen as menacing falls flat. Instead, anguish begins to surface, it takes your attention and leaves you lost in thought for the rest of the day.

And you know you have no reason to be upset after you lay with Cregan. You shouldn’t care because you hate Aemond after he killed Lucerys, but knowing he went to see other women, imagining him kissing another woman, and picturing him looking at them the same way he looks at you; like there’s only you and no one else, like you’re all that’s beautiful in the world, crushes your heart.

You don’t want him touching anyone else with the same gentle touch he blesses you with. You don’t want someone else tasting the sweetness of his lips, or seeing how completely vulnerable and loving he can be. You don’t like that someone else is seeing parts of him that are only meant for you. You don’t want him to admire someone the way he admires you.

You want to be the only one he finds beautiful, you want him to only love you, just like it always has been. You don’t want to share him.

Yet you also can’t be so selfish. You know what you did, and the bad thing is you don’t regret it. You shouldn’t expect loyalty when you broke it first. You can’t be seething in jealousy when you were the one who kissed another man and became intimate with him. That’s selfish too, and you can’t be selfish.

But oh!

You can’t stop tormenting yourself with images of Aemond kissing other women, and other women kissing him. You see it in the books you try to read to keep yourself distracted and hear the sounds of his pleasure in the crackle of the fires that gives light to your chambers and also keeps it warm. You’re tormented by the ugliness that is jealousy, and also getting torn apart between not deserving to be jealous. And him coming into the room does not make it easier because now you’re also plagued by memories of what he did.

You’ll probably find yourself broken down soon enough.

“Where’s Aerion?” Aemond asks first as he takes some weight off him by putting his sword aside.

“With your mother,” you deadpan and flip mindlessly through a different book. “She wanted to spend time with him and Jaehaera.”

Aemond hums and he then approaches you to lean over the couch and try and give you a peck on the cheek, but you lean away, leaving his lips to meet a cold emptiness.

He proceeds to linger the way you left him before he purses his lips and steps away with a deep sigh.

“I see you are still playing at that game,” he says boldly and pulls your attention away from the book to lift your head and focus on nothing in particular as you run over what just came out of his mouth.

When you know you heard him right a crease carves in between your eyebrows as they pinch together, your eyes narrow and almost seem to emit flames with the rage that makes you forget the purpose you really came. That’s all meaningless now as you shut the book and throw it on the couch before you get up and spin around to snap back. “Game? Is this some jest to you, Aemond?”

Said man slips his eyepatch off and throws it on the table, choosing not to feed the dragon he already stirred awake.

“Tell me? Was killing my brother some game to you?” You don’t hold back and march around the couch to get closer, but he keeps getting away as he works to take his leather vest off.

“Is my grief, my guilt, some game to you? You know I-I couldn’t even face my mother, or-or Rhaena, because of what you did? I blamed myself!” You throw at his back which moves further and further away. “Is that funny? Do you think I can just forget and pretend everything is alright? Like-like you did not break my heart in the worst way possible?!”

Aemond finally stops walking away, but he doesn’t turn around or speak, and that only triggers your anger to get more heated.

“Aemond?” You call out so you can get something, a hum if that’s what he wants to give, whatever, you just want a response to let you know he’s paying attention.

“Tell me. Is all I am, is all I feel is some game to you?”

His head slowly lowers, and angry tears form in your eyes while you start to believe what you’re accusing him of in his lingering silence.

“Tell me…because if I am…” you trail off and don’t finish because you fear accepting that it will be true. “Aemond,” you call out again in a broken voice and with a burning glare that falters while you storm over to him and stop halfway. “Aemond,” you whisper before your nose furls and you cry out desperately and with frustration laced within. “Aemond!”

Said man slowly turns on his heels with his eye glossy and downcast, his lips out in a pout, and his eyebrows formed in a shaky furrow.

“No,” is what he says under his breath but doesn’t dare look you in the eyes, he’s like a wounded boy filled with fear. Not of what lurks in the shadows, or of some great fear; he’s afraid of what will come out of the scolding, afraid that he will be received with disappointment and a cold shoulder.

“No what?” You press to know and step closer. “No I’m not some joke to you, or no you did not mean to betray me in that way?”

“Bloodshed was inevitable, if not me, it would’ve been someone else,” he brings out his first excuse.

“Okay,” you whisper and nod in understanding while you turn away and hold your hands as you take in what he said. “Okay.”

“You are not a joke,” he responds to your other question as he finally breaks away from the spot he was stuck to. “My intention was not to hurt you. You know that. You of all people in this fucking world is all that matters to me. Ever since I was young and got pushed around for being different. You,” he makes that word clear with a sense of a deep meaning, no deceit, devotion and passion. “I did not want to hurt you. I did not mean what I did…” he trails off in a whisper that wouldn’t have been audible if the room wasn’t cast in silence.

Yet does that really mean anything now that he did it? He can’t take back what he did, he can’t bring back Lucerys because he did not mean it. It still hurts and he can’t take that pain away with those words.

“All those times,” your voice quivers as your heart speaks for you. “…I spent missing you, wanting to come back home to you, and for what?” You say to the tension in the room and hear his lips part before his steps hit the ground louder and louder as he makes his way before you.

When you’re face to face, heart facing the others heart, his long and slender fingers reach for your face, but because of the violence done to you in the past days you pull your head back, making his hands freeze and tense for a second before he tries again and this time makes contact with your warm cheeks, providing more warmth that you can’t help but melt into.

You do hesitate looking into his eye because you know what you will see will only make your heart sing, but he demands your attention and tilts your head up to meet his gaze. At that moment letting you see the sweet man you have always loved, a soft and enamored man who shows his tender affection in his eye that gleams like the full moon itself.

“I sent you letters,” he brings up softly and glances at your lips as his breath catches.

You part your lips and feel a desire slowly take hold of you, but you are not done, he can’t just shut you up with sweet words, so you quickly rebuttal with an icy quip. “Full of empty words.”

You resisted what you otherwise would have fallen trap to and reel away from Aemond to face him with a serious look that falters between anguish.

“But what could I expect? You only wrote for 1 year when I was in Winterfell…”

“That again,” he mutters and drops his hands on his thighs as he shakes his head.

You scoff and nod angrily. “Yes, this again! Because I waited, you were my best friend! And I was alone! All I wanted was reassurance from you, and you left me alone…and now all I wanted was you to tell me what you feel, I would have loved the truth, but,” you pause and feign a laugh. “You led me on like you did nothing. Like you were doing nothing when in reality you killed my brother and lay with whores,” you spat out. You did not mean to. You wanted to hold it just for the sake of not sounding bitchy and hypocritical, but it hurts not knowing why HE did what he did.

Was he looking for just one little excuse to be with someone else? Have you not been enough? Were you not giving him enough attention? Enough love? Are you not beautiful enough for him?

It’s true you talked to Cregan in your year here, but only as friends before and after you married Aemond. You missed him but only when you felt alone here, but after Aemond made you feel loved, Cregan was a sweet memory of a first love. And now? You were hurt, you wanted to feel loved after getting your heart torn from your chest. You do not regret because that will tear you apart, and you do not want to deny what you did. You did it; you take responsibility for it, you won’t regret it especially because you felt happy in a dark tormenting storm…

But Aemond?

“Who told you?” He demands to know and at that moment proves Lord Larys’ accusation right.

“It does not matter who told me,” you sneer through gritted teeth. “You did it…You do it.”

Aemond drops his eye and his lips curl to a snarl before he answers firmly. “Not since you returned.”

You shouldn’t but you feel like someone is just crushing your heart.

“No…then what about last night? When you left.” You press for more even if the little voice in your head is telling you to stop fishing for more.

“You did not want to see me, remember?” He sasses you. “Was I supposed to stay here just to have you glaring at me?”

You snap your eyes to him and narrow your glare, making him avert his gaze and answer quieter.

“I was with Ser Criston for a time before I took care of those men that shot at your dragon while our son was strapped on your chest.”

The corner of your lips twitch, but that does nothing to win you over.

“And the other times,” he continues and takes a step forward to close the gap left between you by grabbing your face and forcing you to meet his gaze. “Meant nothing. It was nothing but comfort while I was tormented. I did not touch her the way I touch you, I did not kiss her in any way, my heart, my lips are yours. I am yours. It meant nothing,” he makes clear by pouring out his heart, and bringing tears to your eyes.

Yet your tears aren’t out of relief that he gifted you the confession that his heart only yearns for you. You start to cry out of guilt and…regret.

You did not want to feel regret. It was a cemented knowledge, but you are the bad person here. You are horrible for becoming one flesh with another man, for feeling love and appreciation for someone else who is not your husband. Perhaps what Aemond did was bad too, his affair was emotional, but that night your heart belonged to Cregan, and now…if what Helaena said was true then your sin might come to life.

How could you be so horrible?

Why did you have to dig for the truth? It would have been better if you just simmered in your jealousy, but now?

Gods.

You turn your head away to not face him, but he just moves his head in search of your teary eyes. And when he finds your gaze he wipes the tears off your cheeks and parts his lips. Yet nothing comes out but a punctured breath as his eye grows tender and bright like the stars and the moon that reign the sky, but infinitely more beautiful, and just for you to admire and cherish.

Profound enamourment also fills his eye and only works to make his confession of love louder without any need for words.

If only you could give it all in return. You can’t share that intense love because resentment and hatred are still very much alive in your heart. Besides, now guilt for what you did takes a space within you, only further pushing that affection.

“Come with me,” he beckons, much to your surprise.

“Where?” You ask.

“Out,” he only surprises you more. “In the city.”

You scoff. Is he being serious? Or is this some jest? He says the city at night is for delinquents to rage, you always have to force him out with you to do something fun.

“We shouldn’t, I—”

“Now it’s you who’s protesting,” he cuts you off with the corner of his lips perked. “Just come with me for the night. Please.”

You lower your face and remark. “You do not like going into the city. I always have to beg you to come out at night. Then again you have been out, so.” you remark bitterly.

Aemond slides his hands down to hold your shoulders and even if he is annoyed at your remark he insists. “I…just want to show you some fun,” he uses your own persuading words against you purposely.

“Aemond,” you protest and he grabs your face again to pull you towards him, making your eyes flicker to his lips just a hairsbreadth away, calling for your warmth and taste to reunite and mold back together like a missing puzzle piece.

“Please,” he insists softly and pulls away to offer you his hand.

You glance at his hand offering you an attempt at a rekindle and then look back at his eye and the sapphire glimmering against the candlelight, and it's almost like it's giving a hopeful glow in the same way his eye, his lips, and eyebrows express the hope that you will accept.

A part of you says no, you will worsen your guilt, and it won’t be fun if you’re bitter and hold resentment with each word, but also another part of you is too curious and intrigued by the fact that he's the one offering you a night out first and not the other way around.

Both sides fight a short bloody fight, with one choice coming out triumphant. But deep down was it so hard to choose?

As if attracted to a dark calling of temptation you give him your hand.

.

.

.

.

A/N- No don’t take us out into the city Aemond, you’re so sexy and smitten aha 🫣

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @callsignwidow @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part four

part five: i was hoping you'd be there

Robin managed to keep her shit together for approximately ten minutes after she stopped watching Steve make his way through security and into the depths of the airport. In the ride back to Steve's place, her leg was shaking so much Nancy discreetly grabbed Robin's pinky and held it in the back of the car.

The rest of the trafficky route back to Steve's all Robin could think about was how to fix things. She knew Steve didn't tell her about Eddie so she could fix things and Steve didn't run off to Italy to hide from everything but the situation still bothered Robin. She hadn't known Eddie for a terribly long time but he made her dingus happy so she held him in relatively high regard. It didn't make sense for him to just cut tail and run without leaving some sort of door open for a resolution and Robin was going to her darndest to figure out how on earth she could find that crack.

When they got back to Steve's apartment, Nancy didn't let Robin go long without asking for an explanation.

"Robs, babe, what is going on?" Nancy asked.

"I need to figure out how to solve Steve and Eddie." Robin answered.

"I don't think Steve wants you too. He seemed pretty resolved to close that chapter." Nancy urged.

"I know what he said but that's not what he wants. Also Eddie is a huge dummy if he doesn't realize how good he had it with Steve and also that Steve would never cheat on anyone. Especially not after y'all's whole thing. No offense." Robin continued.

"Okay so we aren't letting this go. What's the plan?" Nancy asked.

"Thanks for your support, love. I just can't figure out why Eddie jumped to the conclusion that you and Steve were together again. I mean no offense but like that ship very publicly sailed," Robin said.

"I'm trying really hard not to take offense but the more often you say it the more I am having trouble not being offended," Nancy snarked.

"Sorry, dingus wormed his way into my little heart long before you so I still gotta give you shit over soulmate solidarity. But back to the matter at hand. Eddie only assumed you would only be visiting Steve if you were trying to get back together when really you were coming to see little old me. So what if I came out. Like what if we came out? And shared some of the pictures from like super early on and thanked Steve for being a great friend for many years when I wasn't ready to take that step," Robin knew she was rambling but, hell, she was on a roll.

"Are you ready for that? I'm happy to take your lead on all this. It's not like we haven't already told everyone who is actually important to us. I mostly write freelance nowadays anyways so there isn't really some big bag corporate overlord I need to worry about. You know Steve doesn't need you to do this? It's one thing if you're ready to come out on your own, it's a whole different thing to do it for someone else," Nancy counseled.

"I really think I'm ready. I'm sick of Steve feeling like he needs to come to everything with me and you're stateside a lot more often and I'd love to go out on dates without the next day having like a million articles speculate if you're trying to move in on Steve. I think it's time," Robin rationalized.

"All right, then. We're doing this. Should we use this as an excuse to make Jon take cute couple pictures of us?" Nancy giggled a little at her suggestion.

"Yes! Perfect. Get him over here. Operation Save Dingus from his Self Sacrifice is a go!" Robin jumped up on the couch to make her point and Nancy immediately had to come to her aid as she wobbled enough to lose her balance.

Robin was excited. She was ready for the next step with Nancy and if it helped Steve get out of his own head and/or convinced a certain metalhead with very few remaining braincells to get his head out of his ass then so be it. Robin couldn't wait to think of all the sappy shit Nancy would pretend to be annoyed at she'd be able to do now. Steve would be back in a few weeks so Robin anxiously awaited Jon's response and started several caption ideas in her notes app.

part six

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy @grtwdsmwhr @dreamercec @anne-bennett-cosplayer @strawberryyyenthusiast @mensch-anthropos-human @kal-ology @ttyrussss @kristmkris @starman-jpg @wonderland-girl143-blog @child-of-cthulhu @legalmenace87 (if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

it's not quite fixed yet but we are getting so close!!!