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letjungk09k · 2 months ago

Text

Once in a Lifetime

Main Masterlist

.ᐟ pairing. ⤑ Caleb x Reader (no use of y/n).

.ᐟ synopsis. ⤑ Both you and Caleb were vivid dreamers. You dreamt of death, and Caleb dreamt of you. One night it was too much, one night you chose to seek him out only for him to save you one last time.

Your Caleb would never leave you, right?

.ᐟ word count. ⤑ 13k posted on my ao3

.ᐟ WARNINGS, mdni!!. ⤑ explicit sexual content, spoilers to chapter 4 of LADS, descriptions of ptsd/trauma, mentions of childhood experiments, mentions of death, heavy angst, hurt with comfort, p in v sex, a lotttt of yearning, pipsqueak mention but you're referred to as "pip", soft sex, oral sex (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, mentions of sexual dreams. this is just very angsty i'm sorry...

.ᐟ A/N. You might wanna strap in for this one because I was sad writing it. This is just sad, sad again, sex, sad again. Maybe one day I'll write a fic where there is happiness but until then... enjoy :)

Both you and Caleb were vivid dreamers.

It had always been that way, ever since the day you’d been brought into Gran's home. The day she had "saved" you or so you were told but the truth was you hadn’t slept peacefully a single night since then.

You’d drifted in and out of restless nights and the nightmares never left. It wasn't that you hadn't wanted to sleep, you'd give anything to have one night where you dreamt of bliss, just something to keep you unconscious for a few hours.

They had haunted you. The experiments, the people.. it was always there, flickering at the edges of your consciousness and it always felt so real even when you were awake. It wasn’t just the memories of being held in those dark places, being tested like an object rather than a person but it was the constant fear that those days weren’t as far behind you as you hoped.

They said you’d been rescued but sometimes, you still felt like the experiments were happening to you, like they were never going to end.

They told you it was for progress, that you were special but the truth was that you were a test subject and nothing more. They didn’t care if you lived or died, if you were broken or whole. You were a means to an end, an object to dissect and experiment with until you weren’t useful anymore.

You would try to push the images away, the ones that came in flashes of pain. The scream of the metal doors as they opened, the sting of an unknown substance injected into your veins, the endless whispering and the promises they made... their voices always telling you you weren’t enough, you weren’t good enough. That you’d never be enough.

Then, there was Caleb. Sweet Caleb.

Caleb was always there. He was the one you clung to, always there in the quiet spaces between your screams, always a shoulder to lean on. In the worst moments of your life you were given something, someone to focus on. If anyone meant anything to you, it would be him. It would always be him.

Gran would never understand, not when she'd catch you flinching at certain sounds. Not when you'd refuse to leave the house sometimes and definitely not when you'd be begging her to stop pestering you when Caleb wasn't around. That you were fine, you didn't need anything and that you didn't need her.

No, you needed Caleb. He was all you needed, all you wanted. He was the only reason you hadn’t fallen apart completely. He was your tether, the one thing that kept you grounded and it seemed to be only him that could sooth you when you found yourself falling to your knees, breathless as the memories crept up on you.

Your childhood was painful, it was torturous and filled with misery but you were grateful for the fact that it gave you Caleb. He was the one person who truly understood, after all he’d been there too. Both of you torn apart and rebuilt but Caleb... he never seemed to carry the weight of those memories the way you did. He had his dreams sure, but they were different.

Caleb dreamed of you.

Caleb’s dreams were full of things that scared him. His were vivid and intense.. hot, charged, filled with longing and need, desire. He dreamed of you over and over again, in ways that made him burn with a hunger he couldn’t deny. He dreamt of holding you, of kissing you with a fierce need, as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. You always did matter to him, you were the only thing that mattered.

He dreamt of pressing you up against walls, hovering over you on his bed, of running his hands down your back and feeling the warmth of your skin and the way your body trembled under his touch. He dreamt of calling you his, proving to everyone that he'd only ever have eyes for you because he would.

His hands would wander, touching you, feeling the curve of your body beneath his fingers and pressing you into him, as if to prove that you were real, that this wasn’t some fleeting fantasy. He’d wake up breathless, heart racing with the taste of your skin still lingering on his lips.

It felt wrong every time. You were so deeply traumatised with what had happened and here he was, longing for you, yearning for you, wishing he could kiss any bit of pain away from you. He'd never tell you of his dreams, he'd never tell anyone of them. He couldn’t risk scaring you off, not when you were all he had and he was all you had.

So Caleb kept those dreams to himself. Locked them away deep in his heart, where they wouldn’t scare you. He buried them beneath layers of silence and restraint but every time he looked at you, every time your eyes met, that desire stirred deep inside him.

He needed to be there for you, that's all you ever wanted from him. To have him as your protector, to turn to him when you found yourself not being able to smile, to turn to him when you didn't have a reason to be okay. He'd do it without question, because you were his life as much as he was yours.

He'd do anything for you. He'd kill for you if you asked, although you never would.

If you knew of what Caleb dreamt of, you would plead for him to swap with you. Every night you were forced to relive the worst moments of your life, dragged back into that cold, sterile hell.

The needles, the sharp pain that never seemed to end, the torment of being treated like an object and the whispers of the scientists, cruel words and empty promises you wanted it all to stop.

You didn't even feel human anymore.

Somehow, they weren't the worst parts. No the worst part was how it always ended, how it always shifted. Some nights you'd dream of the experimentation but then some nights.. it would be of a dream that left you could never escape no matter what.

You could see Caleb briefly, see his smile and maybe you'd smile back. You'd hear his voice calling to you, telling you he won't cover for you this time and it left you wondering why. What had you done? Or maybe he was teasing you, maybe it was meant to be a moment of comfort to help ease your trauma.

But then it stopped. There'd be a bright light, an explosion that blinded you even with your eyes closed and Caleb would be gone. You never knew what happened next, never saw the aftermath. The explosion always came just before you could understand the damage, just before your mind could make sense of the destruction.

You’d wake up your body drenched in sweat as though the blast had already happened. It felt real, you felt it deep in your bones. The heat, the ringing in your ears, the panic. Every time you woke up with a gasp, your hands clawing at your sheets, fighting to push away the crushing fear

You couldn’t shake it. You'd be left with questions after it happened, the dream occurred too often for it to not mean anything. But you never told Caleb. It was the only secret you kept away from him.

Tonight, you'd had the dream again.

You woke with a gasp like you always did, your body wrenching upward so violently it almost knocked the air out of your lungs. Your chest heaved, sweat soaking through your shirt, sticking the fabric to your back. The remnants of fire and chaos clung to your skin and your ears still rang like the explosion had gone off inside your head.

It took a second, maybe even longer to remember where you were. To realize that the walls around you weren’t cold and sterile. That no one was coming through the door with needles and lies. That this wasn’t the lab and that you weren’t ten years old anymore.

But none of it mattered because the heat still lingered, the sound of his voice still echoed in your skull.

I won’t cover for you this time.

Caleb.

You had seen his face clear as day in the seconds before the blast. You’d seen the way his eyes softened, almost like he didn’t want to say it but he said it anyway then the light followed, then nothing.

Your heart pounded like it was trying to escape your chest and your throat grew tight, eyes burning. The dream hadn’t faded like the others. No this one felt like it had latched onto you. Like it had followed you out of sleep, like it began curling around your lungs making it impossible to breathe without the image of him flickering behind your eyes.

You rubbed at your face with shaking hands, trying to scrub it all away. The heat, the words, the sound of him being ripped away from you.

He was okay, he had to be okay. Your Caleb would never leave you.

You threw off your sheets and stumbled out of bed, not even caring how unsteady your legs were or how cold the air felt against your damp skin. Your body moved on instinct, bare feet silent against the floor as you crossed the hall, not bothering to think. You just needed to see him. You needed to know. The dream had never felt this real before, it had never left this kind of ache in your chest, it had never made your hands tremble like this.

His door creaked slightly when you pushed it open and for a second, you just stood there frozen in the doorway. Letting the fear curl up your throat, letting your eyes adjust to the low blue wash of moonlight spilling in through his window.

He was there, just as you'd hoped. Asleep with his face turned slightly toward you and one arm tucked beneath his pillow, the other resting loosely across the bed like he’d fallen asleep mid thought. His brow was relaxed, his lips parted just slightly. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that was too peaceful, unaware of the hell you'd just pulled yourself out of.

You felt envious, seeing him sleeping so peacefully. You only wished that there was a day you could experience the same blissfulness.

That's when it hit you, that's when the relief hit you. So sudden and sharp it knocked the breath from your lungs all over again. Your fingers curled into fists as the tears returned, hotter now. You clutched at the edge of his doorframe like it could hold you up, like your knees weren’t about to give out just from the sight of him alive. The sight of him breathing. He was okay.

He was okay.

A broken little sound slipped from your throat before you could stop it and you bit it back, pressing your hand to your mouth as if that could keep the rest inside. You didn’t want to wake him and you didn’t want him to see you like this but fuck, you couldn’t be alone right now. You couldn’t go back to that room with the thoughts still chasing you, you couldn’t pretend it was fine and that you were fine because you weren't.

Quietly you stepped into his room, shutting the door behind you. You didn’t even think about it, you just crossed the floor and climbed onto the bed like it was second nature because it was at this point. Caleb had always been your safe place, the one constant in a world that never stopped spinning.

You moved slow as you slid under the covers, turning onto your side to face him but leaving space between you. You didn’t want to startle him you just needed to be near him, that was all. Just feel the warmth coming off his body, just make sure your world hadn’t cracked in two.

Your breath hitched again and this time you couldn’t hold it back. Your hand covered your mouth once more as your shoulders shook, the sound quiet but impossible to hide. You curled into yourself, eyes squeezed shut and tears sliding down your cheeks and onto the pillow before you could stop them.

Why couldn't you just.. be fine? Why couldn’t you be stronger like him?

You hated how often you ended up here, you started to feel like a burden now more than ever. Always turning to him for reassurance, it wasn't fair. Not to him, not when he had suffered too. He had been there to experience the same thing as you and he was never this afraid. Despite that fact, he had never made you feel like your feelings were nothing.

Caleb had never made you feel like you were too much. He never sighed or looked away or made you feel like your pain was a problem to be solved. He never treated your fear like it was weakness he just... stayed. Somehow that only made the guilt worse.

You pressed your face deeper into the pillow, trying to stifle the sound of your tears but it didn't work because before you knew it he was stirring beside you.

A soft groan left his throat as he shifted, waking up from his sleep sensing the dip in the mattress and the muffled sounds beside him. He turned slightly, brow furrowing as he blinked the sleep away and even in the dim light, you could see the second he realized something was wrong.

His eyes sharpened, the sleep clearing from them in an instant as he pushed up on one elbow and reached for you.

"Hey.. hey, what's wrong?" His voice dropped, full of concern "Hey, look at me. Are you hurt?"

You shook your head quickly, unable to find the words. You didn’t want to talk, you didn’t want to explain but that was enough for him, he'd never push you. If anything you'd take just listening to him talk. His voice was groggy, filled with sleep but it was oh so comforting. This was your Caleb, the same boy from your painful childhood who knew you better than anyone else.

He sat up further and his hand hovered for a moment like he was waiting for permission but one look at your tear stained face told him that you needed him now. So he pulled you toward him, wrapping an arm around your back and his hand pressing flat and warm between your shoulder blades. You collapsed into his chest like you’d been waiting for permission and he held you tighter.

"You’re okay" he murmured into your hair "You’re okay. I’ve got you, I’m right here pip"

"Caleb.."

Your fingers curled into his shirt and you let the tears come without fighting them anymore.

You didn’t have to explain. He never needed the why, Caleb had always been the only person in the world who understood your silence better than your words. Who knew that sometimes, just being held was the only way for you to feel human again.

He didn’t let go. Not when your breathing stuttered in your chest, not when your fingers clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you from drowning. He just kept holding you, arms wrapped tight around your shaking frame, grounding you in a world that so often felt like it was slipping through your hands.

You felt small like this, buried in the warmth of him the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear giving you something real to hold on to, something that was alive. You didn’t even realize how cold you’d felt until you were pressed against him and now you couldn’t stop trembling.

He shifted just slightly pressing his cheek against the top of your head, his hand now resting flat against your back, fingers splayed like he could somehow anchor all your broken pieces back into place. His thumb traced slow soothing circles.

"I hate when you cry" he whispered after a while, his voice barely more than a breath "Not because it bothers me. I just.. I wish I could make it stop hurting"

Your throat tightened, eyes burning with fresh tears. You didn’t mean to make him feel like that, you never wanted to be something heavy to him but you couldn’t stop it. You were tired of pretending you were fine, tired of surviving.

Your grip tightened slightly, your fingers curling tighter into the fabric of his shirt.

"I’m sorry" you whispered, voice cracking.

"No" he said instantly, gently but firm "Don’t... don’t ever be sorry for this"

A sharp breath hitched in your chest, the kind that burned on the way in. You didn’t know what to say to that, how to let him know how much those words mattered. You weren’t used to being seen, not like this. Not without judgment, or pity just understood.

He shifted again just enough so he could pull you closer, so he could tuck you fully beneath his chin. Caleb’s hand moved again, fingers curling gently into your hair and cradling the back of your head like you were something precious. He exhaled slowly, like maybe he was holding back tears now too.

"I used to dream about saving you" he spoke again, quietly this time "Back then... when we were stuck in that place. I used to tell myself if I could just.. just hold on long enough, if I could just keep breathing I’d find a way to make it better for you. I wanted to give you a world where you didn’t have to cry like this"

You froze slightly, the weight of those words hitting somewhere deep in your ribcage. You’d never known that, you never realized that even back then when everything was cold and sterile and terrifying, he had been trying to protect you.

It made sense. It clicked in your brain and you could imagine it all now. His small frame, he was skinny when he was younger, not packed with muscle like he was now. His face was similar, just more young. You remembered him still having his baby fat on his cheeks despite how little they fed you and even now if you took his face into your hands you could squeeze it tightly.

You'd imagine that face, fuelled with anger and baby cheeks burning red as he fought away every doctor and scientist that came close to you. No consideration of his own health, just you and your wellbeing.. that was Caleb through and through.

He would’ve fought everyone, he would’ve fought for you with everything he had.

"You're saving me now, Caleb" you told him, and his bottom lip trembled at your words "You're saving me now..."

He held you tighter, breathing in your scent and shielding you away from the world.

You don’t know how long you laid there like that, wrapped up in his arms listening to his breathing and the steady rhythm of his heart. Your breathing had slowed but neither of you moved. The world outside didn’t feel real anymore, not when all you could feel was the warmth of him around you and the gentle way his thumb kept brushing against your spine like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Your tears had stopped rolling now but he didn't move you and you were more than happy to stay in his arms. Despite the fear of your dreams and the small fear of sleep you found yourself closing your eyes, breathing steadily against him and you felt... peace.

Like he was drowning out every bad thought in your mind.

"You still have the dreams, don’t you?"

You tensed slightly at the question. You hadn't told him what the dreams were, hadn't shared the terror that gripped you every time you woke up with your heart pounding in your throat but Caleb knew. He knew you dreamt of things that haunted you but never of the one where you lose him.

"Yeah.." you murmured, voice almost lost in the dark "Still"

Caleb let out a slow breath, his hand still cradling your head gently.

"I know it’s not the same but.. I dream too" His voice faltered for a second "About us, you and me together trying to survive. I know it's not enough to make it go away but I just wanted you to know"

It was the only way he could tell you that you filled his dreams without telling you the full truth. He did dream about you together, trying to survive. In his dreams he was kissing your fear away, in his dreams he held you like this while you slept just so you could feel safe for once. In his dreams he slid inside you, connecting you both and making you forget for just a little while.

He would move against you like it was the only way to bring you back to yourself, his lips on your neck and your breath in his ear, the two of you chasing peace in the heat of each others skin. He dreamt of you like the act of loving you could somehow stitch your broken pieces back together.

"Please don't leave me" you told him, and his eyebrows furrowed at your words "Please don't leave me in this world alone, Caleb.. if anything.. let me go first so I don't have to live without you"

"Hey.. hey don't say that" he was sitting up now, pulling you along with him but he still kept you close. You stared at him "Don't say that, okay? I'm not going anywhere... I promised you that a long time ago"

"I know" you whispered but your voice shook like you weren’t sure if it was true. You stared at the concern on his face and it made you smile sadly "I just.. I just don't want you to go because I'm too much"

"You silly silly girl.." he smiled back gently, pushing the hair that your tears had glued to your cheek behind your ear "You can wake me up at three in the morning, crawl into my bed and cry into my chest and I’ll never tell you to stop. You’re not a burden pip, and you’re certainly not broken. You’re just... you, and that’s enough. You’ve always been enough"

Something inside your chest gave, not collapsed and it didn't shatter it just surrendered. Softened beneath the weight of him and this moment, of everything he was offering you in silence.

Because no one had ever said that to you before. Not like this, not in that low hushed voice that held no pity, only truth. Not with his hand still resting on your cheek like he meant it because he did mean it. Caleb was the only person who could utter those words to you and he'd be the only one to make you believe it.

Your lashes fluttered closed as you leaned into his touch, cheek pressing into his palm. He was warm, always so warm and you let yourself absorb it. Let yourself imagine just for a moment that warmth was yours, that you could stay here tucked into his chest, your sadness safe in his hands.

"I miss you" you whispered, your hand resting on top of his and holding his palm against your cheek.

"I'm right here.." he replied and you scoffed painfully, opening your eyes.

"That’s not what I mean" you said, a tear slipping down your cheek again "I mean I miss us. How we used to be before.. before everything got so heavy"

Caleb swallowed hard, his thumb catching your tear before it could fall any further.

"We’re still us, pip" he told you "Even when it’s heavy, especially when it’s heavy"

You nodded but your lip began to tremble anyway. You couldn’t help it because you weren’t just mourning what had happened, you were mourning the innocence. The version of the two of you that existed before the fear crept in, before you had to learn how to carry grief like it was second nature.

You often wondered where you'd be if you had had a normal childhood.

"I feel like I’m losing parts of myself" you confessed, your voice raw now and you looked down at the small space between you "like there’s pieces of me slipping away and I can’t.. I can’t stop it"

You paused, your voice barely holding itself together before the next words slipped out in a whisper like something breaking open.

"What they did to us, Caleb... they don’t even realize they’re still taking from me"

The room felt colder after that, because no matter how far you'd come and no matter how many nights passed between now and then the scars never really healed. They just faded enough to be mistaken for something survivable.

Now they haunted you and the sight of losing Caleb in your dreams haunted you further. They had done this to you.. all those years that you were put through torment and pain they had ruined everything. You started to think they had planted those dreams in your head so you'd know that one day they'd come back for you.

The thought terrified you.

Caleb's jaw tightened, his own breathing shallow like he was trying to keep himself calm for you.

"We're not theirs anymore" he said every word slow and it was deliberate, his thumb brushed your hairline "They don’t get to keep you or me. Not now and never again, I won't let them"

"But what if they already did?" you whispered, looking back at him and he saw the fear in your eyes as he often did "What if the best parts of me never made it out of there?"

He shook his head, something desperate flickering in his expression like the thought physically hurt him.

"No. No I know you, pip. I know every part of you.. every good, soft and stubborn part of you and you didn’t leave anything behind. You’re right here" he brought your hand up between you, pressing it to his chest and right over his heart "You’re right here"

Your lips parted but nothing came out. It felt surreal and you could feel it... his heartbeat thudding beneath your fingertips, solid and steady like it was beating just for you. It was the most grounding thing you'd ever felt.

For a moment you just stayed like that, fingertips pressed to his chest feeling the rhythm of him. Like if you stayed there long enough your own heartbeat would sync to his. His hand was still cradling your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing faint distracted strokes beneath your eye like he couldn’t help but touch you.

"Can I ask you something?" you whispered.

"Anything" his reply was instant, and you almost smiled at the speed of which he answered. You blinked up at him.

"If things had been different, if we weren’t carrying all this weight" he watched you carefully as you spoke "Do you think.. do you think maybe we could’ve.. could've had something more?"

You felt his heart change pace, beating a second too fast and your own thudded in your chest.

"Yeah.." he whispered in return "I think about that a lot"

Maybe you had always known.

Maybe it was something buried deep within you, it was almost like it had never existed at all.. but it always had. It had always been there, in the deep dark corners of your mind just waiting for the right moment to rise.

The truth wasn't sudden, it didn't crash into you and knock your breath away but it settled gently on your chest. You hadn't known anyone else this way other than Caleb and you knew that you didn't want anyone else, you never had.

Not just because of what you’d survived together,not just because he understood the broken pieces of you but because even when everything else in your life had fallen apart he hadn't. You didn’t crave softness from just anyone. You didn’t want comfort, safety and intimacy from strangers, not from people who hadn’t seen the worst of you but with Caleb... you wanted all of it.

"Caleb..." you whispered his name as a breathless request, or maybe a plea.

"You scare the hell out of me" he murmured and you blinked, surprised at his words.

"Wh.. Why?"

"Because you look at me like I matter" he said so quietly you almost missed it "like.. like I’m not just the person who helps you survive but someone you actually care about"

His words made your heart ache in a way you couldn’t explain. He was scared, yuou could see it now and in how he pulled back just enough to protect himself, like he was waiting for you to reject him. You wanted to show him everything you couldn’t put into words but there was something in the air between you two that made it harder to breathe.

"Now who is being silly?" his heart fluttered at the sight of your smile and your words and his cheeks dusted a light pink, you could make out the blush on his skin even in his dark gloomy room "You matter to me, Caleb. You matter more than anyone else ever could"

You took a shaky breath, your hands sliding up to hold those cheeks you love so dearly, your fingertips grazing over the roughness of his skin and his under eyes. You could feel the heat of him, the tension in his body that was mirroring your own.

"I don’t want to just be the guy who keeps you from falling apart" His breath was warm between you and his eyes were fixed so heavily onto you that you couldn't look away "I want to be everything to you, I always have"

"You are everything to me" you whispered and every word you spoke rattled against his chest, sending his heart thumping even quicker "You’re not just the one who keeps me from falling apart, Caleb... you’re the one who makes me want to put myself back together"

Fuck, he was truly in love with you.

He swallowed and you saw the tension in his jaw, in his shoulders, like he was fighting with himself. His hands came up and rested gently on your wrists as you held his face.

He was so close to you that you could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with yours. So close his eyelashes looked unfairly long and the soft curve of his bottom lip looked impossibly kissable in the faint moonlight. You could count the freckles dotting the bridge of his nose.

The space between you was barely anything. Your chest rose and fell and his eyes flicked down to your mouth like he didn’t mean to, like he hated himself for it but couldn’t look away.

"God... I want to kiss you" Caleb murmured, his voice barely audible but the need in it was unmistakable.

Your heart quickened. You had heard the words but they were far more than just a simple confession. There was something deeper behind them, something that burned your insides and it filled everything that had been left unsaid between the two of you. It was a truth neither of you had dared to voice before.

You leaned in, your breath mingling with his, lips barely brushing as you spoke.

"Then kiss me, Caleb"

In that moment you understood. Caleb wasn’t just someone you survived with, he was the one you were meant to survive for.

His gaze flickered to your lips again and for a second, everything else seemed to disappear. His hands slid from your wrists and up to your face, hold your head in both of his hands now and his thumb began tracing the marks that were left behind from the tears.

Caleb’s lips brushed against yours, lightly at first as if he was testing the water. As if you were about to break into a million pieces but even if you did, he'd get onto his knees and pick every shard up and put you back together. He took a deep breath in before pressing tightly against you and there was a mutual sigh of content.

It was like in his dreams, you were soft and everything he had ever wanted. Being here, having you in his arms and trusting yourself with him.. you were his anchor as much as he was yours.

You let yourself go in that kiss, giving him everything. The need, the longing and the ache that had grown too heavy to carry alone. His lips were tender and his movements were slow, as if savouring the moment, as if he was afraid that it would disappear if he rushed. Maybe that was exactly what you both needed. No rush, no pushing, just this moment of here and now.

Your hands found his chest, fingers tracing the creases of his shirt and pressing against the warmth of his body. You could feel the steady thud of his heart, matching the rhythm of your own and he shifted closer, closing the distance between you and the sensation of his body against yours made your breath catch slightly.

His tongue flicked against your lips. It was hesitant at first, like a question, like he was asking if you truly wanted to give yourself to him like this and you responded by parting your lips slightly to meet him. It was a soft touch at first but the intensity grew with each passing second. The hunger that had been hidden between you was slowly rising, each kiss pulling you deeper and he was drawing you closer, until there was no space left between you.

His hands slid lower, tracing the curve of your back and pulling you in tighter against him. The warmth of his touch sent a thrill through your body and your senses heightened as you felt the heat of him seeping into every part of you. His mouth moved against yours slowly but he was kissing you like he needed this as much as you did.

You couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t feel enough. Your hands roamed to his neck, threading through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him closer, feeling the muscles in his shoulders tense under your fingertips.

"Caleb.." you whispered between kisses, your voice trembling with the weight of everything.

He moved forwards as he kissed you, lowering you down and down until your back was pressed against the comfort of his bed. he hovered over you now, in between your legs and lips still attached as he grew more hungry for you. You responded of course, because you were loving this as much as he was.

You wanted him. You wanted to feel all of him, to finally give in to what had been bubbling between you for so long.

His lips found the curve of your jaw, the soft skin just below your ear and he kissed you there, each press of his mouth sending shivers down your spine. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips trailing lower and your body arched toward him, instinctively drawing him in and needing more of him.

"Caleb" you whispered again but this time a plea, a soft begging for him to take this further, to not hold back.

He groaned softly, his grip tightening on you as his lips met yours once more, this time more urgently and more desperately. You could feel him, the want in his every movement and you knew that right now, nothing else mattered. All the pain, all the trauma, everything that had weighed you both down it didn’t matter anymore. Not in this moment.

Caleb’s body pressed into yours, the heat between you two growing as your hands slipped to his back, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles beneath his shirt. You pulled him closer, feeling the hard edge of him and the undeniable truth that he was just as desperate for you as you were for him.

"I need to know" he pulled away, grinding against where you needed him most and he watched your eyes close in bliss "I need to know you want this. I need you to be sure"

"I'm sure.. I'm so sure" you breathed, your lips crashing back into his, tasting the need on his tongue and feeling him shudder beneath your touch "I've never been so sure of anything in my life"

That was all he needed.

Caleb’s hands moved with purpose now, urgent but careful as always, as though he wanted to take his time but couldn’t hold back any longer. His lips found the sensitive skin at your neck and you moaned softly, the sound vibrating between you as he kissed you there with more intensity.

He was learning your body, he wanted to know it as well as he knew your mind. Every gasp, every touch, every shiver you gave him. His hands slid down, tracing the lines of your hips and pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The world outside didn’t exist anymore. The weight of the past, the shadows of your shared trauma, everything faded away. It was just him and you.

Caleb’s hands moved to the waistband of your shorts, pulling at them slowly like he was giving you a chance to stop him but you didn’t, you wouldn’t. You were beyond hesitation now, beyond doubt.

His breath was warm against your skin as he continued to kiss you, moving lower and lower and his lips trailed down your throat, the curve of your chest and over your covered breasts, leaving a trail of fire. He stopped just above the waistband of your shorts, his lips ghosting over your skin, asking silently for permission.

You bucked beneath him, your hands pulling at his shirt urging him closer.

"So perfect.." he whispered "So perfect, every part of you"

With one swift motion his hands tugged your bottoms off, casting them aside. He gently kissed the waistline of your panties before they too were tugged off and your lower half was exposed for him to see. He blew gently, the warmth of his breath hitting your core made your legs twitch but you kept them open.

He leant in, kissing your folds gently where slick had begun to slip through and the gasp you let out shocked you slightly. He smiled, leaning in and kissing you once more before his tongue flattened against you and he dragged it from the bottom all the way to the top, the tip of the muscle flicking your clit.

"Fuck.." your hand fisted in his hair while your free hand scrunched into the bedsheets below you.

You gasped when his tongue dipped further inside your folds, flicking the bottom of your clit again causing you to push into him more. A few more gentle licks before he was fully making out with your cunt and it was the best feeling you had ever had.

It quieted your mind, and you weren't sure if you had ever felt a feeling like before. A feeling of pure pleasure, pure bliss and you never wanted it to stop. The thought made you grip his hair tighter and push him further into you and he groaned at the feeling, groaned at the fact that he was making you feel good.

His lips wrapped around the small bud in front of him and he sucked. You let a small moan tumble from your lips before covering your mouth, realising that you couldn't be too loud and wake Gran up. God knows what she would do or say if she saw the two of you like this..

It was an overwhelming feeling, but you didn't dare close your legs as you gave yourself to him. You'd always give yourself to him, he had earned it and there was no one else you'd want to share this moment with other than him. He was being everything you needed, just as you were being everything he craved.

The lewd sounds of him eating away filled your ears but you couldn't find it in yourself to feel ashamed, or care. HAving him here like this was enough and you didn't stop him. You couldn't stop him, not even when your stomach began to swirl and your breath began to quicken, signalling your incoming orgasm.

He moaned against you, a plea from him asking you to let go because he didn't want to move his mouth a centimetre away from you. You tasted like heaven, even better than his dreams and it was driving him insane. His sweatpants were growing tighter as the seconds passed and he almost almost blew his load right there and then when your back arched off the bed as you came into his mouth.

Your whole body was covered in goosebumps as he licked away, helping you ride out the pleasure and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the feeling. He sucked on your clit a little harder once you were done and he stayed there until your legs twitched before closing against your head, signalling that you were done.

He pulled away and kissed his way back up your body, your shirt rising as he did and exposing your breasts but he played no mind to them. Instead he found your lips again, sighing against you once he felt your tongue dip into his mouth, tasting yourself but also him. You really couldn't get enough of him right now...

"You’re so fucking beautiful" he murmured against your lips, voice husky with admiration. His eyes searched yours for a moment, his gaze intense and full of something that felt almost worshipful "You’re mine, aren’t you? I'm not dreaming right now.."

"Not.. Not a dream, Caleb" you whispered, practically breathless under him as he held you down with his gaze "I'm here. I'm here and I'm all yours"

He found himself leaning down to kiss you again before beginning to pull down his sweatpants, needing to be with you fully. You had wasted enough time, now he had you here he had to make sure that this was real. Is this real?

You were here. In his arms and for a fleeting second he almost convinced himself it’s all some dream. He’s had them so many times, dreamt of you, dreamed of this, you in his arms kissing him like you needed him, just like he needs you.

The thought fades as quickly as it came.

You slid your hands to the waistband of his pants and helped him remove that barrier, trembling in a way that made his chest tighten. He kicked the material off, reaching his arm behind and pulling off his shirt in one swift motion which led him to be fully bare above you. You gasped against him when he urgently kissed you, gripping your thighs like a starved man and practically molding his body to yours.

You felt like you couldn't wait any longer and neither could he, because before you knew it he was pushing forwards and into you. The tip of his cock breaching your entrance he pushed and pushed and groaned against your lips the further he pushed in and the further he stretched you. The slick from your previous orgasm aided him and he sunk inside you fully with a moan.

His thoughts were clouded with you, you and only you. The feeling of having him inside you made you pull away from his lips, the need to breathe suddenly hitting you and you met his eyes.

"Fuck, pip" He whispered, one hand moving to your waist while his other placed itself by your head so he could gaze down at where you were connected "You feel so fucking good, baby.."

He attacked your lips again, feeling you clench around his cock causing him to twitch. You sighed blissfully as he sat inside you for a moment, bodies glued together as he kissed you gently. It was like a relief to have him inside you, like everything wrong about you was clicking into place.

"Caleb" you muttered against his lips, earning a simple hm in return "You.." kiss "You feel how much I need you?" kiss "How much.." kiss "How much you matter to me?"

The words you spoke had him leaning further down, body resting on top of you now as he gave a lazy thrust but you felt it deep inside you. The way he was resting so perfectly inside you, like he belonged there, like this was where he was meant to be every single day.

"I feel it, baby" he told you, smiling against you and watching you when he pulled all the way out "'m gonna look after you.. gonna take such good care of you"

He took your breath away when he slid back until he was inside of you again. The thrust was gentle but held a firm edge to it, like he was losing all composure and you wanted him to.. you wanted him to give you everything he had.

When he finally set a pace he was happy with, your breath was being taken away from you with every thrust he did. It didn't feel like he was rushing this, it felt like he was taking his time with you, like every thrust aided in him breathing. He kissed you, his lips glued to yours and he muffled your sounds.

"Feels good.." you whispered, pulling away from his lips and staring up at him.

He gave you a gentle smile, kissing the tip of your nose as he rolled his hips a little harder, watching the way your breasts bounced at the movement. The sight had him thrusting harder, groaning into you and his eyes dilated on the way your nipples hardened despite being neglected.

"Yeah? Feels good?" he bit your bottom lip causing you to shudder. His voice was so seductive and you never thought you'd hear Caleb talk this way, never thought you'd have him this way "You want more? Gonna be good and take more?"

"Fuck-Yes, yes please.." it seemed like every thrust he delivered was his lifeline, as if the harder he went the more he could breathe and god it felt incredible.

"So so good for me, pip.." your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him down and further into you and he couldn't escape from you now not ever and fuck, he wanted that so much.

He was losing himself in you, completely.

"Caleb-"

"So fucking in love with you.." he breathed out, the words tumbling past his lips before he could stop them "You have no idea"

The words landed on your chest and you weren't sure if it was them or the harsh thrust he delivered that knocked the wind out of you. Your body stilled for half a second, your heart slamming against your ribcage like it was trying to claw its way to him. Heat bloomed across your chest, spreading all the way down to where he was still deep inside you and it made everything tighter.

He loves me. Caleb loves me. He loves me.

Your throat tightened around a gasp and you found yourself smiling, but you couldn’t stop the familiar burn in your eyes. Too much, too full too fucking good. The part of you that had spent years thinking you were unlovable and too broken, too complicated none of it stood a chance against this.

You clung to him like the words had cracked something wide open in your chest, and all that spilled out was need.

I love you, I’ve always loved you. No one’s ever made me feel like this.

You didn’t say it back, not yet but it was there. In your fingertips digging into his back, in the way your hips lifted to meet his. In the way you looked at him like he’d just saved your life because he had.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he slowed, until his lips brushed the corner of your eye, catching the tear with a kiss so gentle it made your chest ache. He stayed deep inside you still moving, slower now like he wanted to feel every inch of you, like he didn’t want to rush a single second.

"Hey" he murmured nose brushing yours "you okay? I'm not hurting you, am I?"

Always so tentative. Always so careful with you, the thought made you curl into him more. Your hands moved up, framing his face like you were trying to memorize him, burn every detail into your palms.

"No, no you could never" your voice cracked and you laughed, breathless under him "I just-I don't know what to do with it. That.. that you love me"

He pressed his forehead to yours, breath shaking. He wanted you to know that you deserved to be loved. He had told you, but he needed to show you that you weren't broken, that you didn't need to be fixed. You were perfect and beautiful the way that you were, every single part of you and he'd love everything about you.

"Then don’t do anything, pip. Just let me show you"

You held his face in your hands, admiring him for a little while longer and your thumbs brushed along the high curve of his cheekbones. You moved to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in tighter so that there was no space left between your bodies.

You tried to say it, the words right there on your tongue. I love you... but all you could manage was a soft, broken gasp as he thrusted into you again.

You kissed him again, desperate this time and he kissed you back like he could taste the love in your mouth. Your bodies moved in sync, like you’d been made for each other and maybe you had.

"Just like that" he murmured against your lips. His thrusts deepened "God, you take me so well.. always so good for me"

He thrusted deeper, the kind of deep that made your toes curl and the kind that knocked your next breath out of you. His hand slid between your bodies, fingers brushing where you were joined and over the bulge in your stomach. You tightened around him each time he spoke and it was getting harder for him to contain himself.

Your moan cracked in your throat as you whispered his name, the only name you wanted to say from now on.

"Fuck, Caleb.."

"You feel how tight you get every time I tell you how fucking perfect you are?"

You nodded, tears still clinging to your lashes, lips parted like you were stuck between crying and begging for more.

His hand didn’t stop moving between you, your clit rubbed by his large hand and every brush of his fingers sent sparks up your spine. You were trembling beneath him. Hips stuttering, mouth parted in a soft breathless cry as he buried himself deep and stayed there.

"Fuck, pip.." His voice was wrecked now, barely hanging on "You feel that.. the way you're squeezing me? You're close, aren’t you?"

You nodded up at him, eyes glassy and lips trembling.

"Ca..Caleb please"

He growled low in his throat, hips rolling harder and deeper, each thrust hitting just right... just perfect. Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering and he watched you like he could see it. See the way your body was right on the edge, your heart right in his hands.

Three thrusts later and your whole body seized, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out, legs locking tight around his waist as you came undone beneath him. He didn’t stop. Just held you, forehead against yours, lips rutting against you and he moved inside you as you creamed over him and the feeling sent him into a frenzy.

"That’s it... that’s my girl. So fucking beautiful when you fall apart for me"

It didn't take long until he was there too, his rhythm stuttering as much as his hips and he buried himself deep inside you with a groan, your name falling from his lips as he gave you everything. Your walls painted white with his cum and his arms trembled at the feeling of you sucking him in so tightly.

For a few long seconds, neither of you moved. Just tangled limbs, your chests rising and falling in sync, his forehead still pressed to yours.

Your body was still trembling when his hand slid up your side, fingers ghosting along the swell of your ribs like he was afraid to stop touching you. Caleb didn’t move much. Just rested inside you, still thick and warm and softening now but every now and then, he’d give you the gentlest little roll of his hips. Barely anything but it was enough to stay in you. It was enough to remind you he was still there.

Your fingers toyed lazily with the hair at the nape of his neck as your breathing started to even out. His nose nudged along your cheek, breath mixing with yours, eyes barely open as he looked at you like you were some kind of dream.

"Still here.." he whispered "Still inside you"

You let out a breathy little laugh, lips brushing against his jaw.

"I noticed"

"Don’t wanna leave" he mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

His hips gave another lazy push, more like a soft rock than a thrust and it pulled a gentle, tired sound from your throat. You were sore, and you were so full but you didn’t want him to stop either.

"Don’t" you whispered in return "Please don't leave.. stay"

His hand drifted down to your thigh, rubbing slow circles into your skin and you smiled into his neck, pressing your lips there before breathing him in. His scent, his skin, the faint salt of sweat and the softness of his hair brushing your cheek.

"So beautiful.. you're so.. beautiful"

Your chest ached, full in the best way and you ran your hands over his back like you could keep him together just by touching him. He sighed into you, kissed your shoulder then your collarbone, lips moving in a soft trail. Another slow, lazy thrust and he was barely hard anymore but it didn’t matter to either of you.

"Can we fall asleep like this?" you asked quietly, afraid the moment might break if you said it too loud. Afraid that the dreams you often had would hear your bliss, hear your peace and ruin it before you could appreciate it in full.

Caleb didn't need to be asked twice and he collapsed fully onto you, letting out a long tired sigh and it made your heart swell.

At some point, you must’ve dozed off.

The room had gone still and Caleb was still draped on top of you, his head tucked against your neck, breath warm against your throat and you didn't mind the heavy weight of it. One of his arms was under your back, curled around you and the other rested low on your waist, hand spread across your stomach like he was trying to cover as much of you as he could.

He was still inside you, soft now but you could feel him twitch every so often, little unconscious reminders that his body knew yours even in sleep.

You blinked slowly, hazy and overwhelmed with everything that had just happened. Your legs were still around him, barely hanging on and your muscles ached in the best way. The moonlight caught the slope of his shoulder and his lips were parted against your collarbone.

He was asleep, curled in your arms and still buried inside you and you didn't feel afraid anymore. You didn't hear or feel anything other than him and you found yourself trusting your dreams now.

Because even if you did wake in a panic, even if you did dream of the hell you had been through, he would be here. A reminder that he was yours and that he wouldn't be going anywhere. Your throat tightened, tears pricking again but this time it wasn’t sadness, it was relief.

Yu shifted just a little, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake, only burrowed further into you with a soft sigh.

"I love you.." you whispered, voice in the dark "I think I always have"

He didn’t answer, not really but his arm pulled you tighter, his hips rolled just the smallest bit and his breath stuttered like somewhere deep in his sleep, he’d heard you. You smiled, heart hammering before your eyes closed again.

────────

You woke first.

The morning light poured through the curtains and for a moment you just laid there. Caleb’s breath was slow and steady behind you, chest rising and falling against your back and there was the soft weight of his arm across your waist. His nose was tucked just beneath your ear, his thigh slotted tightly between yours.

At some point in the night he'd slipped out of you but you couldn't complain, not when he was holding you so close and not when you had managed to sleep without being taunted by your dreams.

Your eyes fluttered shut again for a moment, holding onto it. This quiet, impossible peace and you’d never felt so warm.

"Morin' pretty"

You smiled, lips twitching as you looked over your shoulder. Caleb blinked at you half awake but his voice still made your stomach flip. His eyes were soft, a little dazed but they raked over you like they had all night.

"Mornin.." you whispered back "Didn't wanna wake you"

He leaned forward, pressing a slow lazy kiss to your shoulder.

"You can wake me up whenever you want" he mumbled.

You sighed as he kissed your shoulder again, then behind your ear and you melted into him. His chest was hard against your back but you bathed in the feeling, of the feeling of him holding you and kissing you.

"I could stay like this forever.." you said quietly.

Caleb hummed like he believed you, then let his hand trail lazily down to your hip, the pad of his thumb brushing where you were still sore. You gasped softly at the contact, more surprised than anything and he smiled against your skin.

"Hmm.. you sensitive, baby?" he asked, voice dipped low. You shoved his chest gently, laughing breathlessly.

But god it made your stomach flutter. Made you ache a little because he was starting to harden against you, slow and inevitable as your bodies remembered what they did together.

You shifted against him slightly, breath catching at the way his body responded, at the low groan he let out against your neck like the feeling of you stirred something deep in him even in the quiet of morning, in the quiet of this moment.

You turned to face him, his thigh sliding between yours again as you curled into him. His eyes were clearer now, wide open and locked on yours. Caleb exhaled a shaky breath as he met your eyes, brushing your hair back and tucking it behind your ear with a tenderness that nearly undid you.

His thigh flexed in between your legs you and you bit your lip at the feeling, the hard muscle doing wonders on your swollen clit.

He dipped down and kissed you making you sigh against his lips, fingers sliding into his hair as he kissed you again and again and again. His hips rocked forward once, too lazy but he just needed to feel you again and fuck you felt him alright.. your body warm against his own and your lips parted with a quiet gasp.

He gave you a sleepy grin and it was the most attractive thing you had ever seen in your life. He kissed your jaw, then your throat, the flat of his palm splayed wide over your back like he was memorizing the shape of you but then he stilled, forehead resting against your collarbone.

"If I keep going, I'm not stopping" he whispered against you. You didn't move, just stayed still and enjoyed the feeling of him against you. He laughed softly when you said nothing "Shit.. alright I'm getting up before I break my damn promise"

Reluctantly he peeled himself away from you, sitting on the edge of the bed and dragging on a pair of sweatpants. His back muscles shifted as he moved and you couldn't stop watching him.

This was your Caleb. The same boy who had gone through hell with you, the same boy who knew what it felt like to wake up screaming in a room that wasn’t yours, to be torn apart and put back together by people who never cared if you survived it.

The same boy who learnt how to breathe again just so he could teach you how. He was the only place your mind went when it all got too loud, the only pair of hands that made you feel whole instead of broken.

You reached out and traced your fingers along the scratch marks you'd left on his back, wondering if his back used to harbour any other scars before they healed. Yours had, they scattered your body before they healed but even then they sank into you and made themselves at home on your bones and in your mind.

Watching the soft light catch the fresh lines you'd left across his back you began to feel something ancient that curled low in your stomach. For once it wasn't guilt, nor was it sadness but it was a sense of ownership. You felt proud. A deep thought that no matter what had been done to you and what had been done to him you were both here, alive. No matter how many times they had tried to erase you, you were here.

This moment was yours, and so was he.

You sat up, this time leaning against his back as you kissed his shoulder and all the way to the back of his neck. He sighed at the feeling of your smaller lips against his skin, begging his mind to rid the thoughts of pinning you down on the bed and taking you again.

You felt the shiver that ran through him and he tilted his head slightly, giving you access to more skin. It was yours as much as his, and the small movement made your heart squeeze.

"Careful" he warned, voice warm too warm to be a serious threat "You keep doing that and I won’t be responsible for what happens next"

You smiled against the nape of his neck, your lips lingering there tasting the salt of his skin and the sleep still clinging to him. He let out a sharp exhale through his nose as your arms wrapped around his middle from behind, palms pressed flat against the hardness of his stomach.

"Thank you, Caleb.."

The words carried so much weight behind them. He stilled beneath your touch slightly, like the sound of his name paired with gratitude had cracked something open inside him. His fingers wrapped gently around your wrists, not to stop you but to feel you. To ground himself in the weight of your words and in you.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty and he turned his head slightly, just enough to meet your eyes over his shoulder. You couldn’t read everything in his expression, there was too much there. But instead, he brought one of your hands up from his stomach and placed a lingering kiss to your knuckles.

"I’m gonna make breakfast before I forget how to function.." you laughed gently at this, leaning back into his bed as he stood up. Your eyes never left him as he pulled on his shirt before turning back to face you and with a successful grin he leant down, a hand braced by your head.

"And don't.." he warned, brushing his lips against yours "tell Gran what we did"

You laughed, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"I don't think she'd be surprised.."

"Yeah well, she'd say I corrupted you"

He kissed you again before you could reply. A messy, lingering thing that promised you more even in its softness and then he was pulling away before he was gone, trailing towards the kitchen.

When you eventually decided to move you found yourself in the kitchen, stood by the counter and holding a mug between your hands. Caleb was at the stove in front of you, his back to you as he pretended to focus on the scrambled eggs but he could feel your eyes burning in the back of his skull.

Now that you had him you didn't want to be away from him.

Your Gran of course, didn't question it. She was used to you always clinging to Caleb, she knew he was the one who kept you calm despite everything you had both been through. When she adopted the both of you it was evident to her that neither of you should be split up.

She sat at the kitchen table, frail as ever as the sound of the news on the television filled the silence in the room.

You shifted on your feet, mug warming your hands but not your chest. Caleb hadn’t said a word since you walked in, hadn’t even looked back at you but you could see the way his shoulders tensed, how his knuckles whitened briefly around the spatula every time you shifted.

You wondered if he could feel it too. That low, humming ache of being apart when all you wanted was to crawl back inside him and stay there. Where you were safe and untouched by the world that had done so much damage.

The eggs sizzled quietly in the pan and you watched the steam curl up around his forearms. Your eyes dragged lower, over the curve of his spine knowing that there were marks there left behind by you, the familiar slope of his neck and you bit your lip at the sight. You knew that body like your own now, every part of him felt claimed. Yours.

You were still staring when Gran’s voice pulled you back.

"You’re quiet this morning, sweetie" she said gently "Bad dreams?"

You blinked and looked at her. She always spoke to you like she was afraid and the truth is that she was. She was always scared to say the wrong thing in fear that you'd crack, fall to the ground as you often did before clawing at your chest and head to rid the memories and the feeling of what they had done to you.

But today, today felt different.

You shook your head gently in response, eyes flicking back to Caleb’s form.

"No dreams.."

A lie, you had dreamt. The same haunting one of you losing Caleb which resulted in you crawling into his bed but after that.. it was silent. Sleep hadn't felt like a battle for once and it was a strange feeling, you had to admit. It almost didn't feel real.

Last night had been slightly different. Caleb had been there, holding you, grounding you, keeping you safe in a way that no one else ever could like he always did. Your Gran accepted that answer, her eyes softened slightly but she didn't press you further.

A few minutes passed and the news droned on, a low hum in the background as you poured a second mug of coffee, placing it down silently for Caleb. Your Gran cleared her throat lightly and pushed herself up from the table, wobbling just slightly.

"Could you two run to the store for me?" she asked, hand pressed to her chest "I’m feeling a little off, my head hurts a little.. Might be coming down with something"

"Sure, Gran" Caleb replied before you could and both of you watched her carefully "You alright?"

"I’ll be fine, just need to rest a bit" she told you both, making her way towards the stairs.

Caleb’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he nodded slowly, telling her to take it easy before assuring her that you'd both head to the store and grab what she needed. As she moved slowly from the room, her footsteps retreating upstairs the silence settled

Once she was gone, the kitchen was suddenly too small and the space between you was unbearable. It was like he had a constant pull to him, and now that he had gotten a taste of you he never wanted to stop.

You pushed yourself off the counter, coffee mug placed safely on the marble as your eyes locked onto Caleb's and you moved toward him. It only took two steps before you stepped into him, body pressed against his, your lips slamming into his with a force that shocked even yourself. His hands shot to your waist as your gripped his neck, the eggs behind him forgotten.

He pulled you against him and you could feel every inch of him like you had last night. His lips moved in a rhythm and you thankfully kept up with him, his tongue sliding against yours and deep inside your mouth as if he was trying to swallow you whole.

You felt like a hormonal teenager the way you were gripping him and the way the heat between your legs grew more and more. Caleb pulled away slightly, his breath ragged, lips still inches from yours. The silence between you was heavy and your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, eyes meeting his

"Jesus, pip.." His lips were swollen as he spoke and clearly you had shocked him as much as you shocked yourself. You smiled shyly at him.

"Sorry, I just-I don't even know" You couldn't justify it, you couldn't justify the way you had practically leaped onto him. Caleb swore under his breath, his hand cupping your face.

"I really think I'm dreaming right now.."

His reply made you smile even further, leaning up to press a small peck on his lips before you let a small amount of space shuffle between the two of you. If these were his dreams you were envious..

"We should go" You told him and he sighed against you.

"Yeah.. yeah, we definitely should"

Hours had passed and you were walking back from the store when the sky started to turn gold. Gran had asked for just a few things but somehow Caleb managed to turn it into a whole grocery mission. He said something about her not trusting your diet, muttering about sugar and salt and you'd just laughed, letting him talk while you dragged your feet behind him, the weight of last night still settled between your thighs as much as it did in your heart.

You walked in step, your pinky brushing his every now and then. He didn't hold your hand, not in public and not where people could see but he always made sure to stay close enough that it didn’t matter. You wondered how long it would take for you both to get to that step.

The bag rustled in your hands, you holding one while Caleb held the other. Gran’s favourite tea, a new loaf of bread, some apples, those stupid tomatoes he claimed didn't suit well with his cooking but he bought anyway because you liked them, vinegar, some milk and eggs. Oh, and-

"Don’t think I didn’t see you sneak that second pack of biscuits" He told you as you both reached the porch.

"I-how did you know?" You were in disbelief that he had caught you and he glanced back at you with a lazy smile. His hair was a mess from the wind and he had that boyish charm you adored.

He paused at the door, adjusting the bag in his hand with a soft grunt while he began to fumble for the keys in his pocket.

"And you always go for the chocolate ones" he muttered, turning the key in the lock "You’re so predictable, pip"

"You like them too, don’t act brand new.." you almost, almost pouted at him but when his mouth curved up into an amused smirk you suddenly forgot how to act.

"Yeah, but I’ve got self control.." You rolled your eyes, shifting the bags in your hand as he pushed the door open.

"You planning to tell on me?" You questioned, and he smiled at you once more.

"Oh, absolutely. Gran’s gonna lecture you about cavities and sugar rot again" He said, his tone was teasing and it was refreshing how light you both felt in this moment "And somehow she still thinks you're the angel between us"

You were, at least in Caleb's eyes. You always would be.

"I am.." You raise a brow, feigning innocence. He gave you a look like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, cocking a brow as he stepped halfway through the door and tilted his head at you.

"Yeah, okay pip" He grinned at that and you found your own lips twitching. He looked at you in that moment like you were his world and you were, you always would be. He lingered at the doorframe then, one foot inside the house, the other still with you on the porch and maybe it was the way the sun hit him just right or the way your heart knocked a little too loud in your chest but everything in you screamed to memorise this "Well.. since you're grown up now, I won't cover for you this time"

What?

That smile on his lips just before the door opened. It was like deja vu cracked wide open across your chest and your fingers went numb around the bag. Your pulse pounded in your ears but it was drowned out by a sound that felt impossibly far away. Your breath hitched, shallow and panicked, as the world around you blurred. That horrible feeling.. the same one you’d felt in every dream, every nightmare when you had no power, when the worst was about to happen and there was nothing you could do.

Those words.. they weren’t just words. No, you had heard them before.

Your dream.

Caleb, he-

You hit the ground hard. The breath left your lungs in a broken exhale as your body folded into itself, scraped and bent from the force of it all. The shockwave had sent you flying backwards, your feet gone from beneath you and your head smacked against the ground, the impact sharp and dizzying.

Everything was muffled. The world had gone quiet in the loudest possible way, like your ears had filled with static and your heart was beating underwater. You blinked against the blur, blinking again and again, until the world began to take shape but it didn’t make sense.

Pain shattered through your skull but it barely registered. All you could feel was the aftershock, your body shaking uncontrollably and your heart slamming against your ribs like it wanted to escape. Your skin burned, your muscles screamed at you. Your vision was blurred by dust, smoke and heat as you fought to breathe every inhale burnt as your lungs desperately clawed for anything to fill them.

The house was on fire.

Not just burning, it was consumed. Flames curled out from the windows and smoke blew black into the sky swallowing the sun, swallowing everything around you. It was hot, too hot and the air burned when you tried to breathe it. You could feel it in your chest, the way it clawed at your ribs, searing the inside of your lungs but you couldn’t stop breathing, you had to breathe... you had to get up, you had to..

Your arms shook beneath you, every nerve in your body screaming. You were scraped open, bruised and bleeding somewhere. Something warm was trickling down the side of your face and your lips parted but no sound came. Just a choked rasp and a harsh cough that shook your whole body.

Your palms scraped against the gravel, split open and bleeding, littered with tiny shards of glass. You wanted to scream, to beg your body to just work but when you reached to push yourself up you fell back down with a cry. It knocked the energy you had left out of you and you could only stay still in defeat.

You collapsed onto your side, your hand reaching helplessly toward the flames, the tears streaming down your face burning as they mixed with the smoke.

Caleb.

Your dream had been a warning. It hadn't been just a nightmare or a trauma response. A sob tore from your throat, the kind that didn't sound human and you tried to drag yourself forward towards the house, towards him but you couldn't move. You wanted to scream, to curse, to turn back time and rip him away from that doorway. Why hadn't you.. why hadn't fucking done something?

He had been right there. Just right there... now he was gone. You couldn’t see him, you couldn’t hear him and all you could do was stare as the fire devoured everything in front of you. The worst part was it felt too familiar, because it was. This was your dream but this time it was real, this time you were awake.

You choked on another sob as the flames danced brighter, as if mocking you and your hand pressed to your ribs, the skin there was tender and screaming beneath your fingers but you couldn’t feel anything anything other than the pain of losing him. You wanted to scream out, to crawl into the fire if it meant finding him.

But all you could do was lie there, the smoke curling into your mouth and nose, the fire eating away at everything and hope that when you woke up, it would be one of your dreams. That this was because you had let yourself slip and find bliss, find peace even if it was just for one night.

If this was real, if this wasn't a nightmare then Caleb was gone.. and if Caleb was gone, then so were you.

Losing Caleb wasn’t just losing a person, it was losing the only quiet you’d ever known. The only voice that made the noise in your head stop, the only warmth that ever felt like home. He had been your safe place and now the world felt tilted. There was no gravity here anymore, just a gaping emptiness where he used to be and the terrifying part was that it felt permanent.

Like no matter how hard you cried or how loud you begged.. he wasn’t coming back. You’d be carrying this aching thing inside your chest alone for the rest of your life and now, life had suddenly become something that you weren’t sure you wanted anymore.

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jinxxsims · 3 months ago

Note

Don't mind that grumpy person complaining on your post, I think that was way out of line from them. The members of the sims 2 community have been improving and building upon each other's work since the game was released. There are countless examples of CC or mods that one person initially created and others then went and tweaked it or added onto it or improved it in whatever ways. And especially with CC as old as this (where creators more often than not aren't even around anymore), I really think it's perfectly fine to tweak it. And your recolors are absolutely awesome by the way, I love them! Thank you for sharing your beautiful work and all the other CC you've shared with us!

Hi, there.

First and foremost, thank you for this message. I was really thrown for a loop by my textures/mesh updates being received in such a way and my character being maligned in such a way, both through the text of the post and in the snarky tags for it, but there has really been quite an outpouring of support and though I was initially very upset, I've decided to chalk the whole incident up to a fundamental difference in opinions and maybe a bad day. In the future, if I decide to update old sets/meshes and/or update the textures of old sets/meshes, I will do so, and if I offer them for download, I will continue to not force anyone to download them.

It feels kind of wrong to respond to an ask without offering a download, so this is for you (and everyone else, but in honor of you), anon.

This is the Boho bed, hallway mirror, and modern fireplace by Comiko. Everything is functional and comes in its original colors/recolors + the bed also comes in Cluedo woods.

Files are compressorized and come with preview images so you can pick and choose which recolors you would like to keep. Remember to discard the images before moving the files to your downloads to save space.

Download the Comiko Trio

#download #sims 2 download #4t2 conversion #4t2cc #s2cc #ts2cc #ask #sims 4t2

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sunflowersandsapphires · 2 months ago

Text

Tell ourselves a good lie

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 11

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: fluff, Matt and reader falling for each other, Matt being charming, swearing, Valentine's Day references

a/n: Hi everyone! Thank you for being so patient with me, it's been a rough few months. I'm hoping to post a chapter every 6 weeks or so but we will see if the muse cooperates. As always, if you enjoy please let me know by commenting/reblogging!

w/c: 5.5k

Vanessa Carlton might be the antichrist. It had been ages since you’d set foot in a church, but you vaguely recalled tales of the seven plagues. Massive displays of divine wrath served as punishment for mankind's many sins. The earworm that was “A Thousand Miles” was definitely a consequence of humanity's freewill.

Cringing as the dissonant speakers blasted the familiar chorus, your body recoiled viciously. You wanted to shrivel up and dissolve into ash, remnants to be swept up and disposed of at the end of an employee's shift, eventually discarded and forgotten. Apparently your sulking demeanor was palpable, because Matt huffed out a laugh as he took his seat next to you, sliding the cardboard tray with your coffees onto the table with a smirk.

“Not a fan of the music?” He asked, clearly amused with your displeasure. Lifting his monstrous paper cup from its nest, he took a generous sip, humming in approval. With a slight frown, he spun towards you, shoving your drink further into your line of sight.

Moping momentarily paused, you reached for the coffee, removing it from the cupholder with far less grace than Matt had. “Thanks, trouble. And I guess I'm somewhat tired of this song.”

“Considering that it plays at least once every hour, that's understandable.” Matt replied. “And given how often we come here, it's a miracle we haven’t been driven insane.”

“Speak for yourself.” You groused, sinking further into your chair as you guzzled down the liquid-gold in your cup. “It's been half a decade and Jen is still obsessed with this song. She and Oscar sing it to each other all. the. time.”

“That's sweet.” Matt chuckled, biting his lip to stifle a laugh at your incredulous glare.

“It is not sweet, Matthew. This song takes up far too much space in my mind, and, frankly, it has overstayed its welcome.”

Snorting at your snarky comment, Matt shook his head. One of his thumbs traced over the cardboard band encircling the cup, catching on the heart-shaped sticker next to the cafe's logo. Lips twisting as he became slightly puzzled, Matt's fingertip followed the curve at the top of the image, trying to use the nerves there to determine what the shape was.

Your stomach fluttered, a small smile breaking through your sullen attitude as you observed his curiosity. Gently taking his hand, you guided his movements around the perimeter of the small addition. “It's a pair of hearts. For Valentine's day, I think.” You explained, withdrawing your hand as heat slithered over your cheeks.

Matt smiled softly, continuing to duplicate the shape with the pad of his thumb. “Ah, festive.”

“You have no idea. It looks like Saint Valentine threw up in here.” You shook your head, taking in your surroundings despite the pit of despair churning in your stomach. “There are streamers hung up across the ceiling, red, pink, and white ones all twirled a little bit so they look like helixes? Does that make sense?”

Nodding demurely, Matt's cheeks were tinged pink, his chin angled towards the table as he spoke. “Are they pretty?”

Blowing out a breath, you jostled your head from side to side. “Yeah, Matty. They're pretty. There are stickers on the windows too, more cheesy than pretty, cartoon cupids–like chubby babies in diapers, those cupids.”

Laughing in surprise, Matt's nose scrunched in distaste. “Not quite what I was expecting.”

“Stick with me, Murdock. I'll describe decorations around Manhattan that are FAR worse than half-naked adolescent deities.” You snorted, biting back a sigh as the bell chimed–signaling the entrance of yet another happy couple.

Normally, you weren't this cynical about Valentine's day. As a child, you'd loved the celebrations and opportunity to show your appreciation for your loved ones, even if the love wasn't romantic. While others complained about the holiday and its tendency to highlight loneliness, it had always been a time of gratitude for you. It was ironic, and almost humorous, that the first time you truly understood people's disdain for February 14th was when you were in a serious relationship.

As much as you wanted to deny it, you wanted to have a cliche, romantic Valentine's with your boyfriend. You wanted to get dressed up and go out to a nice dinner, and this random mid-February Thursday was an opportunity to convince him to do that. Or it would've been. If he hadn't asked to take a step back.

You weren't on a break. At least, Everett claimed you weren't. Each day that went by without you seeing him or hearing from him made you increasingly anxious that it was a break. That he was out finding someone better and you were stupidly twiddling your thumbs waiting for him to return to you because you hadn’t received the memo.

The sheer number of romantic gestures you'd witnessed recently didn't help. Walking around campus, everyone you saw seemed to have met their soulmate. Boys opening doors for their girlfriends who would kiss them on the cheek as they passed. Students in your class talking about the reservations at the high-end restaurant that their partner had fought tooth and nail for. Even the rats that lived under the dumpster outside your building seemed to have been affected by the atmosphere, if their horrid shrieks each night were indeed what they sounded like.

As if your thoughts of sickly-sweet couples had summoned them, two familiar faces appeared in the vestibule, ambling through the door with their hands linked. ”The Lovebirds have arrived.“ You mumbled to Matt, trying not to sound aggravated unsuccessfully.

Plastering a pleasant expression on your face as Foggy and Marci approached, you tried to tamp down your frustration from a boil to a mild simmer. Matt grinned as the chairs across from you screeched across the floor.

”Nice of you to join us.“ One of his brows was raised, his comment directed at Marci in a slight challenge.

The pair of them loved to butt heads whenever possible, constantly trying to out-do each other in and out of the classroom. It wasn't awkward or aggressive, though. It was a game for them. Foggy had confessed he liked it when Marci demonstrated how cutthroat she could be, and you weren't one to turn down free entertainment.

Rolling her eyes, the blonde tossed Matt a sly smirk. “It's called being 'fashionably late', Murdock. Besides, it's not like we're holding you back from your important plans.”

Foggy snickered. “She's gotcha there, bud.”

Matt sniffed with exaggerated offense. “And this is why I only bought a coffee for Bug.”

“Woah!” You threw your hands up in surrender. “No need to drag me into this, trouble.”

Marci giggled, batting her lashes at Foggy. “Foggy-bear, will you order for me? You know what I like.”

“Of course, babe.” Foggy nodded eagerly, kissing her lips gently before scurrying to the counter.

“Be warned that I'm keeping a list of everything he purchases for you. If you ever break up, we will be pursuing damages.” Matt's lips curved up, his posture straightening confidently as he leaned forward.

“Oh please,” Marci waved off the implied threat. “Haven't you been paying attention in Contracts? There's no way you'd be able to prove unjust enrichment without proof of expectation of repayment. No legal remedy for wasted gifts, hun.”

Matt hummed, chin bobbing with a tiny nod. “Just making sure you've been paying attention, Miss Stahl. Would hate for you to embarrass yourself tomorrow.”

Shaking your head at their antics, you placed a hand on Matt's arm before changing the subject. “So things are still going well?”

“I mean, you tell me!” Marci laughed, looking over her shoulder at Foggy as he conversed with the barista animatedly. “He's more likely to tell the two of you if he isn't happy.”

“Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.” Matt smiled, leaning back against the frame of his chair. “He's willingly wrapped around your finger.”

Chuckling in agreement, you gave an emphatic nod. “Seriously, Marci. Head over heels.”

“He's not the only one.” She muttered wistfully, cheeks flushing bright pink as Foggy waved from his place at the counter.

“Awww.” You and Matt cooed in unison, making Marci shrink in her seat.

“Shut up.” She hissed, face continuing to turn a shade of crimson as Foggy returned with two cups in hand.

“Are they being mean, babe?” He asked with a frown, passing her the taller of the cups.

She nodded with a pout, looking at him with wide eyes. “Never leave me alone with them again.”

“Shame on the both of you.” Foggy scolded, throwing an arm over his girlfriend's shoulders. “Harassing this defenseless woman.”

Scoffing in disbelief, you crossed your arms. “Ok, I know you're trying to be sweet but let's not pretend she's incapable of holding her own.”

“Yah, bear. That's almost sexist.” Marci huffed, bringing her coffee up to hide her smile as Foggy stammered.

“Ok, that's not what I meant, we all know that.”

Shrugging, you raised your cup, mirroring Marci. “Intent is irrelevant.”

“Exactly.” Marci agreed, gesturing to you.

Looking between the two of you, baffled by your straight faces, Foggy threw his hands up. “You two are impossible.”

Giggling in tandem, Marci held out a fist for you to bump, the action only spurning Foggy's irritation. “Keep it up, Marce. See where it gets you.”

Snatching him in a hug, Marci kissed the long-haired boy's cheek. “Sorry, Foggy-bear. We were just teasing.”

“It’s all fun and games, ‘til I go to Tartina alone next week.” Foggy narrowed his eyes at Marci, waiting for her response to the threat.

Gasping dramatically, Marci cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby. Forgive me?”

Melting at his girlfriend’s earnest stare, Foggy grinned. “Ok, I guess you’re forgiven.”

Marci squealed, nearly falling out of her chair as Foggy yanked her into a hug. Next to you, Matt stuck his tongue out, sending disgusted grimace in your direction. Clapping a hand over your mouth, you stifled a laugh, only chuckling harder when the pair of entangled lovers scowled at the sound.

“Laugh it up, bug. We’ll uninvite you from dinner.” Your long-haired friend shrugged, clearly possessing knowledge you didn’t have.

“Fog, I’m not sure you can use your date with Marci to threaten me as well–as much as I love the ingenuity,” You scoffed, tipping your coffee cup until the dregs of your latte dripped into your mouth.

“Well, actually, we thought it would be more fun–” Foggy started in a low voice, igniting something akin to fear in your heart.

“And less pressure!” Marci chimed in.

“And less pressure,” Foggy reiterated. “If you and Matt joined us for a group date!”

Silence descended over the table. Sneaking a glance at Matt, whose face had flushed bright pink, your lips parted, allowing you to stumble over your words. “Um, what? I mean–”

Linking her fingers with Foggy, Marci twirled a strand of hair around her pointer finger, looking quite determined. “C’mon, it’ll be fun! You can bring Everett, Matt can bring his hussy of the week, we’ll all eat amazing Italian food until we burst. Don’t tell me you have other plans!”

“Well, it is five days out, Stahl.” Matt snorted, squeezing your shoulder with a rough hand. “And while I might not have a conflict, I’m sure Bug was–”

“I actually don’t have plans.” You mumbled, eyes falling to the seam of your cup as you peeled it choppily with a fingernail.

The statement captured everyone’s attention like a magnet, their heads tilting with confusion and pity as they processed the statement. Matt’s brows knit together, his tongue trailing across his lips. “What do you mean? It’s Valentine’s day.”

“Thanks for the reminder, trouble.” You chuckled sourly. “But I should be free. If you’re ok with me being a fifth wheel, of course. Evs isn’t interested in going out this week.”

“Fine with me!” Foggy chirped, unbothered by the slight alteration to his expectations. His roommate sat silently as he schemed with his girlfriend about timing.

With a flick of your hand, you attempted to spin your mostly empty coffee cup like a top, resolutely ignoring Matt's concerned side eye. Unfortunately, Matt either couldn't tell or didn't care.

Elbowing you gingerly, he pushed his lenses up the bridge of his nose–shielding the blank irises from your field of vision. “Everett 'isn't interested' in going out for Valentine's day?” His voice was hushed, his question posed only to you, rather than the table.

Letting out a single solemn exhale, your lips quirked up as you forced a smile, which ended up feeling more like a grimace. “Don't get me started.”

“Did something happen?” At Matt's small question, your brain was drawn back to the argument you'd had with your boyfriend, and the reason for said argument.

Heat flew to your cheeks. “Yes.”

“Did you want to–”

“No.” You interrupted, warmth blossoming to the tips of your ears as your embarrassment grew.

“You're still together?”

There was a color to Matt's words that seemed almost..hopeful? “Yes, it's just...” You lifted a hand in a half-hearted gesture, pretty accurately conveying the confusing mix of emotions you were feeling about your relationship.

“Complicated?” Matt smirked at you, his face tense behind the small movement.

“Precisely.” You laughed, winding your arm with his. “Thanks for checking up on me, though.”

“Always, bubs.” Matt turned back to the more animated conversation coming from across the wobbly table, fingers subtly grasping the crease of your elbow.

“Ow, FUCK!”

Frowning at the distant yell, Matt angled his senses towards your apartment to the best of his ability. He was still a few blocks away, but he could sprint to you if–

“Blinding yourself with a mascara wand. That takes talent,” Matt smiled, relief and amusement mingling in his chest as he tuned in to your frustrated mutters. Thankfully, it seemed that you were battling an inanimate object rather than an intruder. More annoying than dangerous, he hoped.

You were still getting ready, he should have expected that, given that it was nearly an hour until you were expected at the restaurant. But after about an hour of anxious pacing, he’d decided that showing up to your place early was preferable to sitting alone in a dark room while he descended into madness. It was peculiar, his reaction to today’s pseudo-date. Though, you tended to bring out paradoxical reactions in him. The knowledge that today’s activity was inherently more romantic, and trending away from the platonic balance he’d managed to achieve, scared him to death. There were infinite possibilities to overstep the fine line he’d been balancing on, to reveal how he felt about you–which is the exact realization that had ignited his pacing.

Yet, with every step in your direction, he grew eerily calmer. The cellophane-wrapped bundle he’d been slowly mashing with a fist crinkled as his fingers spread into a relaxed grip. Closing in on the familiar building, Matt let out a breath. Less than two blocks away and he could finally hear your heartbeat. Soft and steady, ticking rhythmically like his own personal metronome.

In his time after the accident, Matt had quickly realized that heartbeats are unique, like fingerprints. Each person influenced by a combination of factors out of their control, creating a distinctive sound within their rib cage. A deep thrumming beat not dissimilar to a wooden drum. He’d found that technology and media often distorted the noise, exaggerating the convulsion and adding an ominous quality. In reality, Matt adored this sound. Walking the streets of Manhattan, he was constantly surrounded by a gorgeous soundtrack, akin to the murmur of rain against a window.

It wasn’t off-putting, like some people thought. It was his constant reminder that he was alive, surrounded by the living. A sign of a body’s electrical current, each unique tone contributing to the world’s most expansive harmony.

Of all the pulses he’d experienced, yours was one of his favorites. It encapsulated you perfectly–consistent and restrained, soothing and cautious. A beacon of safety in a tumultuous sea. Matt never tired of it, quite the opposite in fact. On days like these, when he was deprived of your presence, he teetered on the edge of suffocation–his teeth clenched so hard that he struggled to breathe. Your heart beat, the reminder that you were alive, that someone cared for him had become invaluable. Living without it wasn’t living at all.

…Maybe his reasons for showing up on your doorstep early were more selfish than he’d originally thought. A bit late to turn back now, wasn’t it?

His hand clasped around the cold steel rod attached to the entrance of your building, tugging it open before he slipped inside. Taking the stairs two at a time, he leapt up the flights, landing in front of your door before he could chicken out. Momentarily catching his breath, his trembling fist made contact with the door, pounding out a knock.

You nearly broke your ankle answering it, the instability of your stiletto heels aggravated by your rush to let Matt in. Toppling into the door frame, you caught yourself with a shoulder, no doubt giving yourself a nasty bruise in the process.

“Damn, bug, didn’t mean to sweep you off your feet,” Matt joked, holding out an arm for you to steady yourself as you hobbled backwards into the apartment.

“Ha ha, very funny, asshole.” You groaned, gingerly pressing on the spot of impact. “I wasn’t expecting you, I thought we were meeting at the restaurant.”

Shrugging, Matt gave a flimsy excuse. “I figured we could walk together.”

“Sure,” Whatever jewelry you were wearing jangled as you nodded. Carefully lowering yourself onto the couch, your fingers rasped over the smooth fabric of your gown. “What about your date? Are we picking her up?”

“Oh, um,” This was the part he was dreading. Scouring the depths of his being for every ounce of courage he could find, he confessed. “I-I didn’t ask anyone. To come with. To the dinner.”

Your eyes narrowed, confusion building as you looked between his face and the bouquet in his hands. “You brought flowers.”

A chuckle burst out of him. The simple observation had caught him off guard, obliterating his apprehension. “I did. They’re for you.”

Your lips parted, unleashing a barely audibly gasp. Matt’s hair stood on end, his entire body flooding with warmth over the tiny puff of air. For some reason, the fact that you weren’t expecting anything made him more determined to show you exactly what you deserved. If your boyfriend couldn’t step up, then he would. Tracing a finger over your forearm, Matt nudged your hand open, settling the bunch of stems into your palm.

“For me?” The plastic sheet holding the roses together rustled as you brushed it with a thumb, focus locked on the bouquet. Your voice was adorably soft and completely awestruck. “Why?”

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day, bug.” Matt explained gently. “And since I’m filling in for Everett today…I just figured you’d like them, I guess.”

“I love them, trouble.” Your throat was tight with emotion, the scent of salt wafting towards him as you wrapped an arm over his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Matt whispered your name reverently, leaning into your embrace. “I’m sorry if that’s weird–”

“It’s not weird.” You objected, your lips parting with a tiny smile. “It’s so sweet. I’m sorry you couldn’t work your magic on some unsuspecting girl this week though. Are you sure you want to go to this thing?”

“Oh yah, I’d rather hang out with you anyways.” Matt snorted, flushing when he realized what he’d said. “You and Fog, I mean.” Intently scanning your body for signs of tension, he let the built up tension roll off his shoulders as you brushed right over his freudian slip.

“I get that, Matty. Dating’s for the birds.” You grimaced, turning the flowers over in your hands. “Did you carry these all the way here? You aren’t wearing gloves!”

“I mean, yes, but it wasn’t–” His voice faltered when your warm hand took one of his, tugging him to your couch while you bustled off to set the flowers in a vase. Before he could regain the ability to speak, you plopped down next to him, tenderly taking hold of both his hands. Warm flesh wrapped around his fingers, squeezing lightly in a line down to the tips, an attempt to bring more blood flow to the affected area.

Tutting in disapproval, you maneuvered his hands until they rested on a blanket, his palms touching both his own thigh and yours as you continued caring for his numb extremities. “You're freezing, Matt. It's too cold to be out there without layers.”

“I was wearing layers.” He muttered, far too endeared by your concern to sound convincingly petulant.

“Clearly too few.” You replied, dragging the back of one hand over his cheek. He hadn't realized how cold he truly felt until your skin collided with his, every cell sapping your heat with the ferocity of a dehydrated creature at a puddle. His body lapped up the touch, tilting into your hold as you gently brushed over his nose, beneath his eyes.

Your nails were coated in lacquer, the smell lingering on the tips of your fingers. The sharp alcoholic tang prickled in his nostrils. You had clearly put an extensive amount of effort into your appearance. He could smell the powdery scent of various makeup products, practically tasting the cloud of hairspray you were still carrying around. As his own hands drifted over the edge of the blanket, they fell near your waist, grazing the cool fabric of your outfit.

It was magnetic, the lack of resistance his calluses were met with. They slipped over your curves with ease, gliding down the smooth garment.

“This is..is this silk?” Still stroking your dress, he bit his cheek, marveling at how it clung to your equally soft skin, as if you and the dress were one and the same.

“Uh, yah I think so.” A nervous laugh tumbled out of you, a small wave of heat caressing Matt's hand as you began mirroring his touches over your abdomen. “Marci's friend let me borrow it. I'm pretty sure it's worth more than my entire closet.”

“I bet.” Matt whispered, flushing as he withdrew from you. Sheepishness dug into his throat, reminding him of the platonic line he'd drawn in the metaphorical sand.

“I wouldn't have agreed to wear it, but Marci was sort of adamant that we match. And I thought that was kind of sweet, like she wanted us to be more of a group?” You clasped your hands, curling in on yourself as you rambled, your heart rate climbing. “And, I don't know, she has a lot of 'girlfriends' but they're all the sorority type, and it seemed like she might want to be our friend too, so..I said yes.”

“That's sweet of you, bug.” Matt smiled, a slimy glob of jealousy rising in his stomach. “Indulging her, trying to be friendly.”

You clearly picked up on the hint of bitterness in his tone, scoffing affectionately. “It's one night, Matt.”

“No, I know. I think it's nice, really!” He lied through his teeth, trying desperately to pitch his voice so it sounded genuine. “And I'm sure Fog really appreciates you making her feel welcome.”

“Welcome into what?” Your tone made it obvious you were raising an eyebrow, amused by his sudden burst of envy.

“I don't know, our group, I guess?” He shrugged, chin nearly hitting his chest as he ducked his head, your scrutiny needling at his skin.

“Woah, I'm not sure I'm ready to go that far, trouble.” Unraveling from your hunched position, you scooted until you were pressed against him, leaning into his shoulder. “I kinda like our little troop how it is.”

Nuzzling a kiss into your hair, Matt grinned. “Me too.”

The two of you remained tangled together for a while, basking in the sound of each other's breathing. When your pulse abruptly spiked, Matt smiled despite himself, rubbing a circle over your back. “You ok?”

Pulling away from his neck, you huffed incredulously. “How on earth do you do that?”

“Do what?” He asked innocently, knowing exactly what you were referring to.

“It's like you can read my damn thoughts, trouble.” Face pooling with heat, you brought a hand to cover your mouth. “Oh my god, you can't read my thoughts, right?”

Well, that was an intriguing worry. Were your thoughts so sinful? “No, of course not, bug. You just got quiet.”

“So did you!” You giggled, shaking your head. A stray hair trailed over his cheek.

“Fair enough. But your answer to my initial question was almost an informal admission.” He quipped.

“God, you're such a law student.” You snorted, exaggerating the annoyance in your words.

“Stop deflecting.” He scolded, still smiling at you. Jabbing you in the side with a knuckle, he sent a stern glance somewhere in your direction. “Spill.”

Sighing heavily, you wriggled until your face was buried against his neck. “I'm just worried this will be weird.”

“What, the dinner?” Matt clarified.

Your forehead tugged at his skin as you nodded. “What if it's, like, awkward?” When the question was met with expectant silence, you reluctantly explained. “I guess I’m just not in a super romantic mood, and we barely know Marci, so..”

He hadn’t considered that. In his mind, you’d view this as any other meal with him and his roommate. After all, you weren’t harboring hidden feelings for your best friend. Why would it be nerve wracking for you? At your admission, however, a fond smile twitch at his lips, urging him to draw you close. “We could make a game out of it?”

“How?” You asked shyly, fidgeting with the seam of the throw.

“Every time one of us feels out of place or Foggy gives us second hand embarrassment, we take a drink?” He chuckled, only semi-joking.

“We aren't of age, Matt.” You laughed, clearly seeing through his attempts to get your mind away from its impending spiral.

“Crap.” He hung his head dramatically, grinning at the giggles that burst out of you.

In the end, you decided on an over-under bet of how many cliche “romcom moments” you'd endure as the respective third and fourth wheel on this date.

Matt, always the risk taker, guessed thirty-five. You stuck with a more conservative fifteen. The two of you had come up with an elaborate list of possible rewards for the winner by the time you reached the restaurant, finally agreeing to gamble on the price of dinner. Constructing and debating the intricacies of your wager, and what constituted a “romcom moment”, had seemingly swept your anxiety back under the rug. As the two of you inched forward in line towards the hostess, your pulse flapped gently, much slower than the rapid staccato he’d been trying to calm. Your breaths fanned gently over his jaw as you beamed up at him, delightedly listening to his retelling of a roommate escapade you’d missed.

“I knew Foggy snored, but sleepwalking? That’s new.” You stifled a giggle, accepting the outstretched arm he offered as an invitation to slide into the corner of the booth you’d been assigned. He scooted over the fabric until your thighs pressed together, preening at the relieved sigh you released when tilting into him.

It felt so natural, this casual affection you both seemed to crave. As if you were made with him in mind.

“Thank god for semantics,” You muttered under your breath, interrupting his wandering thoughts with the amusement dancing over your tongue. “If there was alcohol in our cups we’d be blackout by the time entrees were ordered.”

“Tell me it’s not that bad already,” Matt chuckled, tuning in to Foggy’s heartbeat, desperate to know if he was already ahead.

“There's a giant pink teddy bear, Matt. I'm talking toddler sized. She's struggling to hold it.” You leaned into his shoulder, swallowing a chuckle as you waved your friends down.

“Oh, Fog.” Matt shook his head, smirking as you wound a hand over his forearm, twisting your fingers into his.

“Thank god you're here, trouble. I'd never make it through tonight without you.” You blew out a breath, your posture straightening as you plastered on a polite smile to greet the happy couple.

Feeling heat flood his cheeks, Matt's brain stuttered as he processed the comment. You couldn't have meant that, right? Not in the way it sounded to him, at least.

“Earth to Matt! Come in Matt!” Matt flinched as a hand waved at his face, fanning air over his lips. “Did we lose ya, buddy?”

“No, just, taking it all in. I hear there's a large carnivorous mammal joining us?” He raised a brow, shooting a smirk towards the cloud of Marci's overwhelming perfume.

The girl scoffed in response, throwing a furry object at him—the limb of the teddy bear, by his estimations. “Don't be so jealous, Murdock. It's not cute.”

“I can go buy you a matching bear,” You offered, concealing your sarcasm with a lilting smile as the fingers of your free hand stroked the fur of the plush creature. “If you're that upset, Matty.”

Grinning as you snuggled into his side, he nodded enthusiastically. “I'm honestly a bit offended that you didn't think of it earlier, sweetheart. What's next? Will I be buying my own heart-shaped box of chocolates too?”

“Christ, Matty. You can’t expect so much from me! I’m not a mind reader.” You jested, your voice barely audible over the creaky table shifting around the two newcomers’ weight.

“And here I was thinking you truly wanted to put in effort for little old me.” Matt sniffed, turning his nose up with a pout. “My mistake.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, handsome. I’ll make it up to you.” You purred, leaning impossibly closer before Foggy made a retching sound.

“You two are especially gross tonight.” Matt’s roommate shuddered, picking up a menu.

“Says the man who spent the majority of last week sucking face.” Matt snorted, lifting his own glass up to his smile as you choked on a mouthful of water beside him. “Jeez, you ok, bug?”

“Yup!” You sputtered, waving off his concern. “You caught me off guard with that one. Fog, any rebuttal?”

Across the table, Foggy and Marci’s blazed with heat, only widening Matt’s smirk. “Guess not.” He quipped, turning to face you as you both erupted into laughter.

“SO, lamb chops sound good,” Foggy tried to redirect the conversation, ignoring the pair of you resolutely.

The night progressed in a similar fashion. Each time the actual couple did something romantic, a spark of mirth would shoot through you and Matt, encouraging your teasing. Your combined goofiness eventually wore off on Foggy and his date, forcing them to go to even greater lengths to entertain you.

When Foggy put Marci’s order in as well as his own, Matt followed suit, sending you a sly smile when referring to you as “the lady”. Somewhere during the meal, Foggy smeared mint puree over his lip, letting Marci swipe it off with a finger. You narrated the moment to Matt, stifling a chuckle when he cooed at them fondly. The two of you even copied them when they decided to share dessert, giggling when you nearly dropped spoonfuls of ice cream in each other’s laps.

When dessert plates had been scraped clean, the four of you groaned in tandem, remarking about the quality of the food for a bit before Marci and Foggy darted off–giving some half-assed excuse about other plans after paying their half of the bill.

You watched them with a knowing smile, head pillowing on Matt’s shoulder as they made their exit. “Ugh, the love birds.”

“Tell me about it,” Matt scoffed. “I feel like we just gave our blessing for their marriage.”

“We gave our blessing for somethin’.” You giggled, squishing his hand in your own before digging out your wallet with a melodramatic sigh. “Alright, trouble. Time to settle up.”

Before you could lengthen the accordion-style pouch, Matt’s hand settled over yours.

“No need. I got it.” Swallowing around the embarrassment in his throat, he slipped his own wallet from his jacket, removing a card.

He could practically hear your confused frown as you watched him. “But..you won? I’m supposed to pay for dinner.”

“I never said I wanted you to pay.” He shrugged, smiling at the waiter as he passed his card over.

Your eye roll was obvious.

“You clever bastard.” You whispered, crossing your arms as he broke into a grin.

“Why else would you agree to let me pay?” Matt asked, laughing brightly as you shoved him.

“You are too sneaky for your own good, Murdock.” Slipping your arms beneath his, you squeezed him tightly. “Thank you. For dinner..for everything.”

Pressing a kiss to your head, Matt’s heart glowed with warmth. “Anything for you, sweetheart. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

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thegirlwholovesficcharacters · 5 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄 The originals x Org fem teen reader

Chap 1: ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

Summary: For as long as she could remember, fourteen-year-old maisie buckley used to have strange dreams, about people she had never met and scenarios that only she could believe would happen in movies or fantasy series, dreams that had faded with the passage of time. However, after suffering an accident, those dreams reappeared, leaving her to believe that they were a figment of her imagination due to post-traumatic stress disorder. But as time went by, Maisie began to realize that most of her “dreams” seemed to want to leave her a message or give her a sign about something, and although that seemed to be all, her situation seemed to get worse when she accidentally touched her classmate's hands, causing her to go into a trance and see blurry images. Confused and frightened by those recurring “dreams”, maisie finds herself trying to find answers about her strange dreams, until she arrives at the store of a voodoo witch, who seeing her desperation helps her search for some answer to her condition, her search resulted in a small town, New orleans. Without hesitation, maisie buckley leaves her life in boston behind, and upon arriving in new orleans finds more questions than answers to answer her questions, being rescued from a coven of witches along with a woman and becoming involved in a strange connection with those who claimed to be the originals, the first vampires created on earth. The mikaelson brothers.

Words: 2774 Warnings: Mention of blood, hand cuts, spells, mention of abandonment and an adoption (nothing dark or dangerous at the moment).

Autor's note: Hello, I'm back after a long time and with a new story. I recently rewatched one of my favorite series, The originals and with the passing of the chapters, I remembered that I had a fanfic about this series saved in one of my drafts on wattpad. I read it, rewrote it and thought, why not share it on tumblr?, and well, here I am with the first chapter of this series about the strange connection of a teenager of almost fifteen years old with my favorite family and the loves of my life, yes yes, I'm talking about Niklaus and elijah. Anyway, I'm going to base it from the first chapter of the first season of The originals. Although this chapter focuses a little more before the arrival of maisie to new orleans and what led her to go there.I apologize in advance with the spelling and grammatical errors that you will find during the reading, I usually use google translator to write in English, because well, my English is not so good, but hey, I'm still learning. Without further ado.

I hope you enjoy reading it!

PD: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

There were many things that Maisie did not like in her short life. She did not like small spaces, heights, or strange, disturbing, or uncomfortable situations. Although she wouldn't have to feel uncomfortable since she had gone to that strange store on her own.

It was not normal to her to see stuffed animals on show. But it was even more disturbing to her that they seemed to be looking at her whole soul. "This is very uncomfortable", she thought. She had read and seen TV programmes about people using taxidermy to preserve an animal's body for scientific study, or people doing this with their own pets to feel they were still with them.

━━━Terrible━━━ she muttered. The child ignored the animals and continued to explore the shop. Until she came to a shelf full of crystal balls. A little curious, she carefully picked up one of the spheres. Fascinated, she watched the small flashes of light contrasting with the shop light on the crystal ball.

━━━Careful with that Crystal ball kid, it's very expensive━━━━━The young girl jumped, surprised and frightened when she heard the woman's resulting voice.

Feeling the loud pounding of her heart, Maisie turned her head to find a woman with dark skin, her hair covered in a silk fabric, and an outfit that reminded her of Marie Laveau from her favorite show, played by Angela Basset.

Taking a deep breath, she leaves the crystal ball on the shelf and speaks with a slight stutter.

━━━━I'm sorry, ma'am.━━━━She excused herself quietly as she watched the woman cautiously approach her.

━━━What is it that brings a little thing like you to such a strange place?. You seem very young to be here, my dear ━━she questioned with a lifted eyebrow, looking at her as if she wanted to analyze her.

When she saw his questioning look, Maisie gripped the string of her backpack nervously, trying to formulate the right words to say to her.

━━━I…emm. I read on your website that you are one of the best 'Tarot Readers' in the city, Miss. Aisha Boudreaux━━━━ The woman looked at her again as she heard her call her a 'Tarot Reader'.

She said to herself, "So she already knows"

━━━And-and I came to your shop because I need your help. Please. ━━━she replied shyly..

The woman named aisha looked at her for a few seconds. She watched as she nervously held the strap of her purse and stuttered as she spoke. Then she cautiously lifted her hand and lifted the young girl faces. Her eyes showed curiosity as she looked at the girl's face.

"Her aura, it's… strange. I've never seen this kind of aura on anyone other than… no, it can't be" thought the woman, feeling exalted for a moment "is it her…? No, it can't be, she's too…young" Trying to ignore her thoughts, Aisha spoke.

━━━I can see in your eyes that something is troubling you, little one. I can't tell you what it is, but I know for sure that you've come to the right place….━━━Her gaze softened, noticing the small teenager's frightened eyes, she took a step back and held out her hand━━━Come with me, Maisie Buckley, I know you have many things you want to resolve.━━━Watching the woman's outstretched hand, Maisie stood still for a few seconds, watching her own hands covered in old gloves, then looked back at her.

A million thoughts went through her head, she was unsure if she should trust the woman, but she had gone to her shop for a reason, and that was that she needed answers, one way or the other, and Mrs. Boudreaux seemed to be the right person for the job.

She hadn't been on the road for almost an hour and had searched the Internet to get to her store for nothing, and she desperately needed answers.

She shook her head, swallowed some saliva, and smiled a little as she took the woman's hand.

━━━I trust you…━━━Boudreaux nodded softly as she began to walk away from the lobby. Maisie followed her, hoping that Mrs. Boudreaux might be able to help her.

It was now or never.

It had been about twenty minutes, twenty minutes since Boudreaux had taken her to a secluded room in the shop, where the two of them sat at her tarot table, surrounded by animal and human skulls (Maisie hoped the skulls were completely fake), candles lit in every corner of the room, and a cup of hot tea in her hands, which were almost empty and lukewarm.

Maisie had taken the time to give her a brief explanation of what had happened to her over the past few months. She had also made a brief plea for his help with her situation.

Now, standing in front of the witch, she watched as Boudreaux carefully placed her own mug on the table, her face was neutral, but the young teenager knew deep down she was worried about her situation, deep inside. She couldn't read minds, but when she saw Aisha's restless eyes, Maise could tell that something was going on in her head, and she wanted to ask her what it was, but she didn't want to interrupt her thoughts.

"After years…. But she is too young, what did they want, how did they restore her visions?" With a small sigh, Boudreaux speak.

━━━I've heard several stories about situations like this.━━━━Maisie looked at her intently for a moment. Were there any other people out there with the same problem as she had?━━━Tell me, dear, have you ever heard of clairvoyants?━━━The teenage hesitated to answer.

Even if she could say yes, Maisie was sure she would only named Alice Cullen from Twilight and Ethan Morgan from My Nanny Is a Vampire or some other fictional character she knew with that kind of gift. And since she was sure she would answer that, and since Mrs. Boudreaux would reproach her, she decided to answer.

━━━Only in fictional series or movies━━━━━She replied quickly, smiling innocently, the woman rolled her eyes but nodded anyway.

━━━Well, I'll stick with you having an idea of what they are….━━━Maisie nodded, not wanting to interrupt her━━━….You have a gift, child. You are a kind of seer who can only see visions through touch, be they future or past━━━When she saw Maisie open her mouth, the woman raised her hand and silenced her immediately━━━ and before you speak, yes, I know about that show about a vampire nanny, which I find absurd but entertaining━━━he teenager smiled and nodded.

Al verla entender, la bruja asintió para si misma.

━━━Good. Before we continue━━━She moved her empty cup away from the centre of the table━━━I have to ask you, do you have any relatives who have been in this situation in the past? Or anything like that?━━━Maisie quickly denied with a small grimace.

Maisie knew she was adopted. Her parents always told the truth about how she came to be with them. They were worried that something would change in their family after she told them about the day she came to live with them. Maisie was never upset or angry, though. She was grateful and happy that they were her parents, even if they weren't her biological parents. She never talked about it with anyone, except her school friend Amy.

━━━N-no…━━━She cleared her throat a little before continuing.━━━ see, I…I'm adopted. And I doubt that my mother or father came from a line of visionaries and magically passed on that gift to me….She replied shortly, almost in a tone of sarcasm that made her eyes widen, astonished at her own audacity.

Boudreaux smiled, nodding his head in understanding.

━━━It's… understandable━━━she said, ignoring the girl's sarcastic tone━━━so we can assume that it could be from your biological family's side…━━━Masie stood still, feeling a slight discomfort at the mention of her biological family.

Seeing her reaction, the woman raised an eyebrow

━━━You've never tried to look for clues about them, have you?━━━Masie denied, pursing her lips.

━━━No. All I know, and all my parents have told me, is that I was left on their doorstep without a note or a clue.━ She spoke, vaguely remembering the story of how she'd arrived on that rainy spring day fifteen years ago.

Boudreaux nodded as she considered how to help her, not wanting to be too obvious about her situation, she had an idea of what was going on but wasn't sure it would happen. Until an idea flashed through her head, a spell.

━━━Well, since we don't have any names or clues, I guess I'll have to use another method. A tracking spell━ Maisie watched as the woman abruptly rose from her seat. Boudreaux approached a shelf and looked around for what she needed,until their gaze landed on a particular shelf.

━━━Well, I need a map…here it is, a dagger…this one's fine, and a necklace…━━━As she finished searching for her items, the witch approached the table, leaving the things on it and then looked at the girl━━━And I'm also going to need some of your blood, little one.━━━The teenager's eyes widened in surprise.

━━━My--what?'━━━ she asked in disbelief.

━━━Your blood, silly.━━━She said as she arranged her magical items and placed a small dagger in front of her━━━If you want to know the origin of your seer power, you must know how to ask the right people, and when I say the right people, I mean your biological family.

Maisie looked uncertainly at the dagger on the table, then at her own gloved hands, almost petrified and shocked at what she had to do to find the answer to her now Seer's gift.

If she really wanted to know more about the background of her power and put an end to her strange but not so strange dreams, she had to face her biological family, even if she didn't feel ready to.

━━━All right, I'll do it…━━━she agreed firmly. Boudreaux nodded. With shaking hands, Maisie took the small dagger from the table.

━━━You can use either hand. Cut your palm above the map. When I say stop, cover your hand with the gauze━━━She demanded, pointing to the small box of sterile gauze that had been set aside.

As she watched her get things in order, Maisie took off her left glove, left it on the table and waited for Boudreaux to tell her when to cut off the palm of her hand.

The woman looked at her and nodded.

Maisie complied and placed her hand on the map, shuddering at the sting of the dagger blade slicing through her palm as she watched drops of blood fall onto the parchment.

━━━That's enough, sweetheart━━━Listening to her, the girl put the bloody dagger down on the table with a clatter and used her other hand to cover her injured hand with some gauze to stop the bleeding.

It was only a few seconds before she was surprised to hear the witch whispering strange words, 'Must be Latin,' she thought. She watched as Aisha held the necklace in one hand and pointed directly to where the drops of blood were, a small gust of wind came out of nowhere and surprised her as she saw the fire of the burning candles moving restlessly.

But what surprised her most was seeing the drops of blood, her blood, coalesce into a stain, moving from one side to the other of the map.

Her curious green eyes watched the movement with attention and wonder, until the droplets formed a circle around a particular city.

Realising the spell was over, Mrs Boudreaux opened her eyes and looked at the small circle of blood, frowning.

"The images were blurry. They move back and forth. What's going on in New Orleans?" she wondered inwardly. She hadn't managed to see the faces of the girl's biological family, but she did see two of them moving very fast, as if they were looking for something or someone.

Maisie had heard about the city from her parents, who had always told her about their honeymoon in New Orleans and how they had loved touring the city, listening to the jazz music that filled the streets, tasting the delicious food and the stories of the creatures that lurked in the night.

━━━Your birth family, child. Looks like they're in New Orleans, little Buckley━━━she commented, looking away from the map as it met the girl's green eyes━━━You know, if you're thinking of going there, I'm warning you.

Maisie looks at her attentively.

━━━Beware of old witches, they may seem harmless, but believe me, they are the worst━━━Hearing his serious voice and look, Maisie nodded quickly━━━And don't trust Agnes either, she's a harpy and a psychopath.

Curious about the warning to these people, Maisie wanted to ask who they were, but one look from Boudreaux told her everything. They were dangerous.

━━━All right━━━she replied, putting her glove back on. When she was finished, the young girl fumbled in one of her pockets until she pulled out a few notes, raised her head and smiled, holding the money out to the woman.━━━Here, thank you for your help.

Boudreaux quickly rejected the offer and refused to take the money..

━━━Oh, no, darling. No need, I did it as a favour for a friend. Besides, you'll need the money for your trip.━━━ The teenager hesitated, but eventually agreed. Watching her arrange her bag, Boudreaux approached and held out the dagger.━━━And before you go, here. You'll need this. For protection━━━she said. She saw the small dagger, already clean, tucked away in a small leather pouch. Maisie took it carefully and nodded to herself.

━━━Thank you. Aisha━━━she said, and the woman smiled at her.

━━━You're welcome, Maisie. Good luck on your trip, and if you need any help, give me a call. You already have my number in your bag━━━Curious, Maisie reached into her bag and found the little piece of paper with her number on it.

━━━I will.━━━Before opening the door to the shop, the young girl gave the witch a final nod and said goodbye with a small smile.

As the door closed with the sound of the bell, Boudreaux had a sigh of relief.

━━━Diaval!━━━Shout. Suddenly there was a loud whimpering sound and the flapping of a bird as it approached.

Feeling the bird's pointed talons on his right shoulder, Boudreaux turned his head to find the raven's smooth black plumage and head looking straight ahead as it cawed.

Boudreaux walked up to the door and stepped out onto the veranda.

━━━Keep an eye on the girl and look after her if you can. There is something about her that is both attractive and powerful━━━Murmured.

The crow cawed again.

━━━Watch her from a distance and let me know if anything goes wrong. I made a promise to Cass and Evan: she must be safe from whatever comes━━━With a final caw, the raven lifted its wings and flew away from the house, following the young teenager from a distance.

The night after her meeting with Aisha Boudreaux, Maisie started packing: clothes, books, her mobile phone and a burner phone, as well as her savings and allowance from her tutor, her Aunt Callie. The next day, her aunt dropped her off at school and Maisie waited for her car to leave the car park to catch the next bus to the station. But before she left, there was something she had to do.

Standing on the grass with two small bouquets of flowers in her hands, the young woman looked around her. She noticed that trees surrounded her and that there were few people around. She looked down and wistfully read the names on the gravestones.

Beloved friends, children and parents, Cassandra Dianne Buckley and Steven Evans Buckley.

With a small sigh, she bent down and placed the bouquets on each headstone, removing the wilted flowers and leaving the new ones in their place. When she had finished, she straightened up again.

━━━I would have liked you both to come with me on this journey. I know they will be angry, wherever you guys are, and I know it will be a dangerous journey, but…━━━ She sigh, letting out a wry smile━━━I promise I will try to stay out of harm's way. If it doesn't get to me first, Aunt Callie will go mad, but I've left her a letter, as well as Amy. I think they'll both understand why I've decided to leave. I promise it won't be for long, I'll come back and leave them flowers like I do every Friday. I promise…━━━A small silence fell over the place.

With one last look at her parents' gravestones she smiled regretfully.

━━━I love you mom, i love you dad. I miss you both, a lot.━━━With these last words, Maisie walked slowly away from the cemetery.

Saying goodbye to her loved ones was always difficult for Maisie; she had said it before at the funeral, to her aunt and her friend, and again to her parents.

She didn't know how long her little adventure was going to take, but she was hoping to be back home soon.

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melodyglow-blog · 11 months ago

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Why i think Dabi / Touya is still alive after chapter 430

#spoilers ahead

Ok first of all,this shit was so ass, i dont even wanna think about how the final chapter looks like it was set in a dark AU ending where nothing changes and rei looks older than ever, still pushing enjis wheelchair for the past 8 years🤮, shoto being a workaholic (and soon being num ONE). Shouldnt he be more focused on his friendships??

Plus, no mention of his siblings that his arc has been working on reconnecting him with. 🤮 So like...Enji won? Shoto will be number one after all wtff..

But id rather think about the fact that touya could still be alive after the timeskip. Here are a few reasons why..

No gravestone shown, no image of a shrine or a burial, hell..no mention of his death AT ALL unlike with toga or shigaraki, erasers friend and midnight...hell, deku even hallucinates shiggy. If touya was truly dead i feel like we wouldve seen a panel of his shrine or ANY indication if his death.

Society and tech have improved so much that quirkless deku can be a hero, so theres no way that touya, with a partial healing ice quirk isnt kept alive.

He was last shown to be 'slowly marching towards death' like BITCH thats literally what being alive is, we are all slowly marching towards death😭

This man is allergic to dying and i do believe that hori left his outcome ambiguous for a reason, if hori wanted to show touya dead he 100% would.

Shoto smiling..like bro would be smiling like that after his oldest brother passed away, like i said, intentionally hori is avoiding any mention of Touya, even natuso is not shown or mentioned, just that shoto has become a workaholic and on his way to being number one...

Plus the panel text is from Deku's pov. So its not todoroki's internal monolouge thats revealed, only his expression and hopefully thats an indicator that his siblings are ok.

Hori has 100% lost the plot lmao, the ending is so convoluted and out of character that theres simply no in universe reason why Touya would be straight up dead. Making shoto mention his father instead of his brothers or sister or MOTHER was certainly a choice🤮🤮🤮.

Old rei pushing enjis wheelchair is sickening and i dont wanna believe that shes still his maid if she has had to mourn touya a second time, its gross and literally a dark au cause wtf.

Since none of shotos siblings were mentioned, this empty space of detail lets us assume that shoto isnt stressing about them. If touya was dead we would see him visiting his shrine, in japanese culture, visiting gravestones and praying to shrines of the dead is symbollic.

I firmly believe that hori either got seriously sick (he said his ears were leaking fluid) or got pressured by his team (he said he cried when his management made him scrap an extra comic page he drew of dabi and sceptic on the past) , i believe that at this point, he didnt have a lot of creative control over his work and wasnt allowed to dedicate more panels to the LOV. HE HAD to prioritise enji and the characters at the top of the poll. When touya came 4th on the final poll, it was too late, his story became enji's story even though hori confessed that he had initially written enji to be killed off in the high end nomu fight.

The story is such a retconned mess, theres no way he wasnt planning shiggy and touya to be SAVED physically, literally touyas last panel is of him crying alone lmaoo.

IN BOTH of Horikoshi's previous serialized series the villains lived and got to reform and atone at the end..

But yeah, my end verdict is that hori intentionally didnt mention touya for the fans to theorise about him living💀

BONUS ~ i saw a post mentioning this, There is also a throwaway panel of the Doctor "curing the uncurable" - which could refer to Touya

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hyuuukais · 6 months ago

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⋆₊‧⁺˖⋆˚.⋆ ͙͘͡★ LOOK UP TO THE STARS

pairing ▪︎ han jisung x fem reader

synopsis ▪︎ sent out on a mission to a neighbouring QZ that's gone radio silent, y/n falls into the hands of a post-rebellion group after things go terribly wrong. giving up on rejoining her squad, she joins the group on a trek to find a missing member, the group leader's sister. what's supposed to be a not-so-simple trip out and back to their base becomes a one-way ticket to the end of everything they know.

warnings ▪︎ general, kinda major character death !!!, character lowkey brutally murdered,, but like deserved so 🤷‍♂️, two minor character deaths

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CHAPTER EIGHT ▪︎ DO YOU BELIEVE IN ANGELS? (8.4k)

"What's he doing all the way out here?" You question, leaning over Seungmin's shoulder to take a closer look at the radio; as if that will help you hear better. "We're pretty far from our QZ, none of our patrol routes even go this way."

"Maybe they changed it." Seungmin suggests. "We haven't been there in half a year, things could be different now. And we don't really know where we are right now in relation to any zone. And we both know he gets special privileges because of his sister."

You snort at this, knowing he's right. "True, but it's still weird."

"...and that concludes the music portion for today since I apparently didn't bring much with me. I could freestyle-"

"Noooo." Someone else groans and you immediately recognize Squad Leader Seo. "Don't, please, I'm begging you. Spare me, spare the listeners."

"Fine, but only because you might take this away from me..." Changbin huffs. "Now for the mandatory shit the QZ is making me say- sorry, now it's time to stay informed. We're looking for two young women named Lily Morrow and Choi Lia, preferably alive-"

"Definitely alive."

"-definitely alive. Lily more than Lia, as she's the head scientist in all this."

"You're going to get put off the air if you say too much, you know that right?"

"Yeah, yeah. They've been spotted in a town southwest of Lake Haven, which is where we're headed now. If anyone-"

Static fills the air, crackling loudly in your ears. Seungmin tries to regain the signal, but the crackling stops and the lights die out.

"Shit." Seungmin exhales, giving the side a smack. Nothing.

"At least we kind of have a lead of where to go?" You shrug.

"They'll be gone by the time we get there," Seungmin says, looking up at you. "With the time you need to fully heal-"

"I'm healed enough! I just won't like, do anything crazy, okay? I promise." There's absolutely no way Seungmin believes you, but he nods. "I'll even stay in the truck if you ask nicely."

"Fuck that." Seungmin scoffs. "We both know the only way you'd stay put is if both your legs were broken."

Laughter fills the small space. After trying a bit longer to get the radio back up and working, Seungmin finally gives up and you both climb back up the wobbly metal ladder. The sun is starting to come up and although you can't see it rising, you can see the sky beginning to light up and the morning dew on the overgrown grass in the yard. You walk over to the sliding doors, taking a moment to image what it would be like in its prime; the grass cut neatly, lawn chairs clean, save for sand particles that would have come off the bodies that have sat in them, boats on the water, and music coming from your neighbours cottages. You'd be standing here with a mug of hot coffee in your hand, maybe a friend or a lover by your side, gazing out on life, not the abandoned landscape this lake has become.

When you turn around, you see Seungmin already showing Chan down the hole, Han and Felix standing slightly further away. Chaeryeong gives you a small wave as she comes down the small staircase, Jeongin not too far behind. The only one missing is Hyunjin, and you know it's because of how late you two went to bed, so you take it upon yourself to wake him.

Entering the room, you see he's face down on the bed, his arm stretched out and seemingly searching for something. Hearing you enter the room, Hyunjin shifts enough to peak over his shoulder and sees you.

"Hey," He says, voice rough with sleep. "Time to get up?"

You sit on the bottom of the bed and he twists his body to curl around yours, his head finding your lap and arm wrapping around your back. As much as you want to stay here in this moment with him, you know you might not have much time before Lily and Lia leave town.

Judging from the map plastered above the radio, you estimate it should take about forty minutes to get there. By then, there will be a strong military presence and you'll have to be extra careful. Even if the radio wasn't dead, you'd have no way to figure out where exactly the two women are hiding out or the state they're in. Lily wouldn't make the mistake of reaching out twice, not when she's being hunted this way.

"Let's go, there's something we need to show you."

In no time, you're on the road again. Everyone has fresh clothes and are patched up to the best of Felix and Jeongins abilities, canned food stored in the back of the truck for later. You're having breakfast on the road, dried meat and berries picked from a neighbouring cottages bushes. Felix suggested fishing, but there was no time. The good nights sleep helped you, but you're still sore as Chan drives over bumpy roads. Somehow you made it through the night nightmare-free, but you can't say the same for Chan. The circles under his eyes are darker than the evening before, a hand frequently coming up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Halfway through the drive, he has to switch with Hyunjin. He's taken a place next to you sitting in the middle of the backseat and you wordlessly bring his head down to your shoulder. Chan sighs, eyes fluttering shut and a hand finding your knee.

Seungmin is in the front next to Hyunjin, still trying to rediscover Changbin's station, but with no luck. By this time he's probably made it into town and is helping the others search. The reality of seeing Changbin again hits you suddenly, tensing at the thought of potentially having to fight him if you're caught. Out here, there shouldn't have been any chance of seeing your old friends, if you can even call him that. You didn't know him as well as Seungmin did, so you can only imagine what he might be thinking. Then again, you know they didn't always get along either, so maybe he's hoping for a chance to punch him in the face.

"We're almost there," Hyunjin announces. "I'm gonna pull over here, otherwise they'll spot us."

There are a couple of nods and 'okay's as he pulls over into a shady spot between some trees, driving deep enough to hide the truck, but not too deep you'll have trouble finding it later. You wake Chan up with a small nudge, but he still startles and almost hits his head on yours.

"Sorry, I-" You hold your free hand up.

"Don't apologize." You say, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. "I get it."

"Thank you, Y/n," He gives you a tired smile, exiting the truck behind you.

The air is getting colder, crisper. Fall is in full swing now and you're not sure what it will be like come winter, but you're hoping you've found Hannah by then and will be well on your way back to your little village. Leaves crunch underfoot as you walk parallel to the road, following it into town. It's bigger than you expected, greeted by a small shopping center and a grocery store on the edge of town. There are infected wandering around the parking lots, so you keep your distance. There has to be a way to figure out where Lily and Lia are hiding, some sign...

"There!" Chaeryeong stage-whispers when you enter a more residential area. Up ahead is a house with a broken window and what looks to be a lab coat laid over the windowsill. You recognize it as Lily's, the way it's patched in the middle to make it shorter and easier to wear. You're about to approach when you hear whistling.

"Get down!" Seungmin warns.

You stay where you are, right beside an abandoned postal van with Chaeryeong beside you. Felix is close enough that he joins you, crouched low by the bumper. You don't know where Seungmin called from, lost somewhere in the tall grass. The cover is probably better than whatever you're doing.

"In there!" The shout is distant, but you stay alert.

Two soldiers emerge from the side of a house across the street and you duck down further, your stomach almost on the ground. You think you recognize one of them, but they're too far to tell. One investigates the window as the other kicks the door down, gun back up in seconds. She enters the house, her partner following suit. No one from your group moves, all sitting ducks waiting for the soldiers to reemerge. When they don't, you take it upon yourself to move forward.

"Y/n!" Chan scolds as you move past him in the grass; your head whips toward his voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Entering the house. I can take them both out." You defend. "If Lily and Lia are in there, we need to get to them first."

"Let me go with- shit." Chans head perks up, and you follow his eyes to see Han already hopping the fence surrounding the house. "Damn it, just- go after him and don't die. I'll go around back with Felix and meet you inside, okay?"

"What about the others?" You ask, knowing they won't like getting left behind.

"Hey, I know that face, and no one is being left out." Chan frowns. "I'll send the others to check out other houses in the area in case they already left this one. Now go!"

You do as he says, hurrying toward the house. Han is inside now, but you can see him through the window looking into the living room with Lily's lab coat. Hopping through the empty space, you clear your throat just loud enough for him to hear. He flinches, but when he sees it's you, he relaxes again.

"You go up and I'll check this floor out?" Han proposes.

"Sure." You nod.

The stairs are broken halfway up, a large gap you'd have to jump over and create more noise than you want to standing in your way. You're about to just do it, but when you look into the kitchen, you can see where the floor above has collapsed, partially on top of the island. Climbing onto the countertop, you're able to glance up and find yourself in what looks like the master bedroom, one foot of the bed hanging over the edge of the hole you're now pulling yourself up from.

Right as you enter, so does one of the soldiers. She trains her gun on you, but then her eyes widen with recognition. Ryujin subconsciously brings her rifle down, mouth hanging open as you stare back at her. Part of you puts the pieces together- the whole of Squad 14-4 must be here, possibly along with your own, Squad 14-3. Why didn't you think of that before? Why would Squad Leader Seo be here with only Changbin, not her whole squad? And you already know her and Minho like to work together.

"I'm sorry Y/n." It's like Ryujin remembers her role in this, raising her gun back up and your hands follow. "We got a live one!"

"Shit, I'm sorry too Ryu."

And you're leaping at her, pushing the tip of her gun away as she shoots. There's a grunt, and you panic before you see her fellow soldier falling to the ground. You don't know him, and temporary relief floods you before you're kicked back to the ground. Normally you'd be back on your feet in an instant, but Ryujin managed to kick where your bruises are darkest, and you find you can't move. She aims her rifle at your face and you curse yourself; you're not dying at the hands of the military, you're either kicking it from old age or doing it yourself. Fuck this world trying to kill you, you'll show it who's boss.

Ignoring the hot pain in your side, you launch yourself forward and grab Ryujin around the waist. This throws her off enough to drop her weapon behind you, landing on her back with a cough. Her hands are pinned under your knees as you straddle her, landing a swift punch to her now bleeding nose. One of her hands wriggles free and she grabs your neck tightly, rolling you over and switching positions.

"I thought-" You wheeze, fingers trying to dislodge hers. "-you were loyal-"

"I barely know you," She grips tighter. "And you made me shoot my friend."

Black dots swim in the corners of your vision and your fighting is becoming weaker as all air leaves you, but you keep going. You refuse to let her win, to let them win. There's only a split second where you consider letting go, the black dots nearly taking up your vision, but something knocks Ryujin to the side and you're able to take a deep breath, coughing and wheezing as you roll onto your side. Drool drips from your lips as you heave, a wave of dizziness hitting you when you try and move onto your back. A gun shot sounds behind you, triggering your survival instinct, and you find yourself able to move without thinking.

Han stands in the doorway, his sniper rifle still by his eye. Your eyes wander to the target, and you spot Ryujin's body slumped over, her legs still straddling yours and a hole in the middle of her forehead dripping dark, red blood. As soon as his weapon drops, Han is by your side checking you over. No doubt deep, purple bruises already forming around your neck with how tightly she held you, his fingers gingerly brushing over the tender skin. You can see the worry in his eyes, trying to offer a smile to reassure him as you continue to cough.

"Can you speak?"

"Yeah of cour-" You're interrupted by another violent cough to contradict what you were trying to say.

"Let me send you back out there. Go find the truck and wait for us," Han tries to help you up, but you pull away at his suggestion.

"No-" You wheeze, breathing carefully as to not upset your throat.

"Don't argue with me for once," Han whines and makes another attempt to help you, but you push yourself back up on wobbly legs.

Clearing your throat, you just shake your head. If you can't talk, you won't, simple as that. You can still fight, even if you're slightly unbalanced. When you exit the room, you come out next to the stairs and there's another gunshot. Suddenly, you're yanked back and pressed against someone's chest as the bullet grazes the bridge of your nose. If you focus hard enough, you could probably feel Han's heart beating against your back with how hard it's racing.

"Close call," You whisper, out of breath.

"I thought you couldn't talk." Han comments.

"Up there!" Comes a voice from below. "Through the kitchen!"

They probably heard the shots Han fired and came running. You didn't see how many were coming inside when you were shot at, but you assume at least another group of two or three. Across from the room you're in is another bedroom, and probably your only way out. You can't go back down through the kitchen, that's where they're going to climb up, and you caught a glimpse of the collapsed roof blocking off the rest of the upstairs.

"Here's the plan," You whisper hoarsely, detaching from Han; seems you really can't shut up. You can hear the soldiers climbing. "We're going to run into the other bedroom and block the door somehow so they can't follow, okay? Then hopefully there's a window in there we can exit through and meet up with the others."

"What about Lily and Lia?" Han asks.

"Clearly they're not in here-"

"Freeze!" One soldier has entered the master bedroom and is standing at the edge of the broken floor.

"Ready?" You look at Han in the eyes and he nods. "Now."

The soldier is shouting something behind you and there's gunfire hitting the doorway right as you pass through. You duck down in front of the stairs, not making the same mistake as before, and another bullet just barely hits you, leaving a streak of blood on your forehead just above your eyebrow. Scrambling to the other side with Han close behind you, you make it into the other room and slam the door shut. Han starts pushing a dresser over and you help, grabbing the other side and heaving it in front of the door. You're almost there when it swings open, hitting the dresser. Without thinking, you take a knife from the sheath on your thigh and aim at their arm, forcing them to stumble back out of the doorway. Once the dresser is in front, there's only loud banging from the other side.

There's a moment of silence where you and Han share a look, preparing to head out of the window behind you when more gunfire sounds and you both drop flat to the ground. Holes paint the wooden door and walls as you shuffle your way to the opposite side of the room, waiting for the perfect moment to slip outside. When there's a pause in the shots- you assume they're reloading- you signal Han to get out first. By some dumb luck, there's a tree branch hanging down in front of the broken glass he can hang onto, making his way to the trunk and sliding down. You have to wait a few more minutes before joining him, more gunfire destroying the barrier between you and however many soldiers stand behind that wall. You wince as you vault over the windowsill, hands almost slipping as you grip the thick branch, and a wave of pain shoots down your side. Swinging your legs up, you're able to shuffle your body so your stomach is lying on the branch now, taking a moment to breathe. Sweat beads on your brow bone, the pain throbbing, but you power through and make your way to where Han is waiting at the bottom.

From here, no one should be able to see you. You're at the back of the house in a deep, overgrown backyard, the long grass providing cover. There's a big wooden porch directly in front of you, but the back door of the house is blocked by furniture from the inside, obscuring the view outward. You're about to turn away from the house and try to find the others, but as your eyes start to drift away, you spot double doors underneath the porch on an angle and grab Han's arm before he can move away.

"Were there stairs leading down anywhere on the main level?" You ask, eyes glued to the doors. There's a heavy metal lock on the stone base and a huge rock right next to it.

"No, why- oh," Han follows your sightline. "Do you think...?"

"We should check."

Moving quickly and quietly, you crouch your way to the doors and open up one side just enough to get through. Shutting the door, you're engulfed by nearly complete darkness, the slightest bit of sunlight peeking through the cracks of the wood panels making up the entrance. The stairs downward creak loudly under your boots as you make your way into this large, hidden space underneath the house made up of a dirt floor and stone walls, colder than the rest of the house was. As you step onto the soft earth, you reach a hand back to stop Han from continuing. In the corner is a large figure shaking; in this light you can't tell what it is, cold sweat covering your body as you realize- you didn't see any bodies in the house. Either the family evacuated or...

A loud whimper is accompanied by the figure jolting, followed by some kind of soothing whispers. Inching your way toward the corner, you see it's actually two figures, and they're not infected. It doesn't take long to realize who you're looking at- Lily has Lia in her lap wrapped in what looks like an old rug, and when her eyes snap up to meet yours, you can see the blood splattered across Lily's face.

"Tell me you have a medic with you," She pleads, and you notice just how pale Lia is, the way sweat glistens on her skin.

"No," You say, kneeling down next to her. "Just me and Han. The others are back outside looking around the neighbourhood for you two."

"I left my jacket so you would know which house we were in if you came along." Lily's voice is tired, hoarse. "She's not going to make it, is she?"

Pulling away the rug, you see two wounds on Lia; there's a bullet hole in her chest, inches away from her heart, and the marks of a dog bite on her thigh still oozing blood. Her chances aren't likely and you're realistic, but the look on Lily's face makes you want to lie and say there's still a chance, maybe if you got to Felix or Jeongin quick enough, but you know she'll be able to see through your lie, if your hesitation hasn't said enough already.

"No," You admit, laying a hand over Lilys which is still clutching onto Lia's side. "No, she won't. I'm sorry Lily." You don't fail to notice the way Lia's breathing has gotten shallower. "We have to get you out of here, okay? Bring you to safety."

"I'm not leaving her," Lily says firmly.

"You have to," You say softly. "There's no choice. We either leave you here and let them discover you, or you let us help you. Why do they need you so badly anyway? What did you ever do to warrant this kind of special attention?"

"You know I'm a scientist, but what you don't know is that I'm like you," She looks at you as you shift onto your knees in front of her; you have a feeling she has a lot to say. "I was in a quarantine zone for most of my life being trained by the best of the best... my parents. They were a part of the original group in this area trying to find a cure for the zombie virus, or whatever it is. After they passed, it was up to me, and they had really high expectations of me and I... I got close."

"What?" Han finally emerges from where he's been sitting on the steps in the dark. "Close to the cure? Why'd you stop?"

Lily shakes her head at him. "You wouldn't understand, not like Y/n. Those people are horrible and corrupt. They'd keep the cure for themselves and only give it to those who they think deserve it. I couldn't let them do that, so I left with all my research that I could carry with me. That was three years ago."

"How'd you stay under the radar for so long?" You ask, eyebrows knitting together.

"I faked my death?" Lily laughs wearily. "One of my friends was in a squad that tracked me down and cornered me in a school I was hiding out in. She let me go, told the others some infected got to me. There were so many roaming around I guess they just... believed her. She's a good soldier, trusted. After that, I was free to run far away. I ran into Lia pretty soon after, then met the rest."

"If you didn't call for help in the hospital they never would have found you," Han states. "Why'd you do it?"

"My combat skills are... limited." She looks away, a blush creeping up her face. "Lia's a great fighter, and San is- um, was, too, but there were too many even for them. I knew it was risky, but I'd rather fight my way out of a quarantine zone again than a horde of flesh-eating monsters."

She doesn't talk for a while. You look down at Lia; her breathing has completely stopped. Lily is tucking a strand of hair out of her pale face, cupping her cheek and whispering something in her ear before gently placing her body on the dirt floor. Beside you, Han is silent.

"It would be selfish of me to stay here and let them find me when she died for this cause," Lily says with a new fire. "And I can't let Hannah die because I'm stubborn."

Your eyes widen at her unknown confession. "Did you say Hannah?"

"Is that important?"

"Very," You say, unable to hide your smile as you look at Han, whose eyes are wider than yours.

It's surprisingly easy to avoid getting spotted as you sneak through the backyard and start to head back to where Hyunjin hid the truck. As you weave through the long-abandoned houses, you peek inside for any signs of your friends. Up ahead, you see a familiar figure dashing between two parked cars and signal Han to wait in the alley you're walking through. Following where you saw the person head, you enter a small dance studio. She's standing with her back to you, hand trailing one wall.

"Chaeryeong." You whisper when you're close enough to her and she jumps, making you laugh. "Where's Jeongin? Hyunjin? Hell, even Chan and Felix? Those two were supposed to meet with me and Han in that house."

"I got separated from Jeongin." She huffs, leaning against a wooden bar sticking out from the wall. There's a small cut on her neck, but other than that and some dirt, she looks unscathed. "Hyunjin ended up going with the other two, but I don't know what happened after Jeongin and I left you guys. I hope he's okay. I hope they're all okay."

Worry is written all over her face and she hugs herself subconsciously. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, you try and reassure her.

"I'm sure they're fine, they know how to take care of themselves." You squeeze her in hopes of comforting her. "The back of that house was blocked off, so they might have tried to find another way in and we missed them."

"Yeah, yeah." Chaeryeong's head turns to yours. "You're right. Besides-"

"Hands up!"

You freeze, the hair on the back of your head sticking up. That voice is familiar, but you can't place it until you turn around and see Officer Song staring back at you with five more soldiers behind him. He scoffs, approaching you carelessly, and you have half a mind to grab the knife from your hip and stick it in his chest.

"We meet again." He announces. "What are you doing, always interfering the way you do? You both know all the actual rebels are long dead, right?"

He's referring to their parents, you know it. As far as you know, everyone you've met were born into the rebellion against how the government handled the apocalypse, save for Hyunjin and Jeongin and now you and Seungmin too.

Rough hands grip your arm closest to him, dragging you away from Chaeryeong and throwing you to the ground; as if you don't have enough bruises. You watch from the floor as another soldier grabs onto Chaeryeong and disarms her, all of Officer Song's attention laser-focused on you. With him crouched in front of you, you're having a sense of deja vu, only this time you still have a weapon that seems to have gone unnoticed. In a flash, your hand is on the knife and swinging at Officer Song, landing a blow into his shoulder. He grunts and falls back, but is up again in seconds and grabbing you under the chin.

"You little bitch," He seethes, and you can see blood seeping through his army green shirt. "You think you can get away with that? How do you feel about never seeing your little friends ever again?"

Unable to respond with words, you gather saliva in your mouth and spit directly at his face. He throws you back down to wipe his face with the bottom of his shirt and stands. In the background, Chaeryeong is still fighting the hold of both the soldiers holding her against the wall by her arms, legs flailing up and hair falling into her face. Her teeth are bared as Officer Song walks past her, not even sparing her a glance, with your knife still stuck in his body. He makes some sort of hand gesture and suddenly there are two pairs of hands on you, lifting you up to a standing position.

"Send a squad to hunt the others down." He orders, turning around and making eye contact with you. "No one makes it out alive."

There's a dull pain in your left temple where you assume you've been hit, your eyes blinking open to a blurry cell door greeting you. You know where you are; the familiar musty smell of this quarantine zone's makeshift jail fills your nostrils as you begin to remember what happened. For a moment, panic overwhelms you, but then you spot Chaeryeong across from you, still out like a light. There's a faint bruise forming on her jaw. You're going to kill whoever hit her.

"Awake?" A voice from beside you asks and you turn your head to see someone you don't recognize waltzing in. "Can you hear me? I know my people did a number on you."

He smiles down at you and you don't answer.

"How about a name?" You still don't reply. "Stubborn, okay, I'll start. My name is Kim Hongjoong, but you can call me Captain Kim. You killed two of my soldiers and stabbed an officer, what do you think your punishment should be, hm?"

"Captain!" He doesn't spare a glance to whoever called for him from the door, just hums in response. "One of the squad leaders found some others, but they claim to be lost. Can you see to them?"

"I guess I should get going." Captian Kim exhales, his shoulders dropping. "I'll see you later, Y/n."

"How did you know-" But he's gone before you can finish your sentence, leaving you in your dimly lit, cold, cement cell.

There are a few hours between each visit from random cadets, something you remember having to do as a part of your training. Chaeryeong has woken up and you've both complained about the hard ground and the temperature. You know it's supposed to be uncomfortable and boring, but it still sucks major balls to be stuck in here with nothing to do. You wonder about the other people; you wonder about your people.

"Hey, Y/n? Can I ask you something?" Chaeryeong shuffles her way to the front of her cell, sitting with her legs crossed.

"What's up?"

"How did you know you had feelings for Hyunjin." You blush.

"That's what you're wondering right now? Not maybe how we're going to get out of this mess?" You laugh when she shrugs in response. "Why do you want to know?"

When she blushes and tries to brush off your question, you gasp.

"No," You say. "Who?!"

"No one! Forget I asked!" She puts her head in her hands and laughs louder, but it's cut short by the door opening.

A young cadet walks behind Captain Kim, three others following suit. When their faces come into the light, you fight to remain stoic. Walking with the Captain is none other than Han Jisung. Why isn't he being thrown in a cell right now? Why is he free to stand beside them and stare into your eyes like-

Then it hits you; he's playing a part. No one here besides you and Chaeryeong should know who he is. In the hospital, everyone but him and Chaeryeong were inside. Officer Song never saw him, Minho never saw him, nobody saw him. And your heart leaps at the thought of him here to rescue you.

"You don't recognize her?" Captain Kim asks, watching Han intently as he shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows.

"No, sir," He says dutifully, looking at him with the same confused eyes he was just looking at you with. Hell, if you didn't know better, you'd think he'd suffered from some kind of memory loss.

"You're sure?"

"Very."

"Alright... and her?" They turn around to Chaeryeong's cell and he shakes his head again, but you notice he's making a damn peace sign behind his back to you. "Very well. We'll have to take you in for further questioning before deciding what to do with you, I hope you'll understand."

"Of course, sir."

Captain Kim smiles at him, his profile somehow still lit sharply in the dim lights. "I like you... we'll make a soldier out of you."

Han salutes with a shit-eating grin on his face, but quickly turns it into fake sincerity.

"Aye-aye captain, I won't disappoint!" And you know he won't. Han will play the part to a T until he can get you two out of here and back on the road. You know how loyal he is to Chan and the others, there's no way he's actually considering this... and no way does he have you fooled as well, taking his disguise as well as he is.

How did Chan approve of this idiotic plan? One wrong move and he'll be found out, not only fucking up the chances of getting you out, but setting the group even further back in finding Hannah. Han casts you one last glance before the three leave the room, winking as he exits. Once the door shuts, you turn to Chaeryeong with wide eyes and she sighs.

"This is not going to end well..."

Whatever Han is doing seems to be working.

Over the next few days, he's in and out of the cells training just like you had once. On the first night, you had the realization that you still have your bobby pin and could easily pick the locks of both yours and Chaeryeong's cell doors, but she talked you out of the idea.

"We do that and they'll be all over us in seconds," She said. "There's no guarantee that this QZ is set up like yours and we're weaponless. Surely there's someone guarding this door as well, if not multiple someones?"

"Well, yeah..." You looked away from her, embarrassed.

"So we need a better plan than that." She gave you a sad look. "I'm sorry Y/n, I know I haven't been able to think of anything that would actually work and not end in our deaths either."

In the present, Han is crouched in front of your cell door and sticking his hand through the bars to poke at you. You open your eyes with a jolt, hands raising in defence, but immediately falling back to your lap when you see it's just him. Han retracts his hand, going to sit on his knees in front of you. You raise an eyebrow at him, prompting him to announce why he's sitting in front of you like you're friends.

"I have a plan," Han says, giddy. He bites his bottom lip to contain what you assume is excitement. "Not only can I get you both out of here, but we can also steal information regarding resources Lily might need for the cure. I've also heard rumours about some kind of zombie-free city? I bet you there's info about that too, I just haven't located it yet..."

"How are you gonna do that without being caught?" You ask, squinting your eyes at him.

"I've made friends." His smile grows wider.

"Friends...?" You eye him.

"Squad Leader kind of friends... maybe a specific one?" You sit up, clasping the bars in front of his face. "A certain man named Lee Minho who just so happens to be here on business?"

"You're fucking lying-" But it makes sense. Where Squad Leader Seo goes, he goes.

"I'm not!" He almost sounds offended. "Minho agreed to help cover me when I steal the plans tonight-"

"Tonight?"

"Tonight! Then, I'll come in here and bust you out when I'm on guard duty with Changbin. He's cool, by the way." Han stands up, and you do as well. "We're going to fake a fight and he'll let us slip out since apparently you two know each other and he feels he owes it to you for leaving you behind that day."

Your chest tightens. That day, the last day of being a cadet. You almost forgot he was there too.

"Anyway, there's a kind of secret underground tunnel thing going on in this QZ that we can use to get out," Han's voice quickens, knowing he's running out of time before someone comes in here. "I'll bring you both some kind of weapon if I can, but no promises. Once we leave through that door, we have to be faster than we've ever been before. I already ran this plan over with Chaeryeong while you were dozing."

Behind him, you can see her curled into herself with her eyes closed, breathing steady, and the occasional twitch. She's fixed her hair back into a low bun, only a few strands of black sweeping over her sleeping face. She looks like an angel.

"Okay." You turn your attention back to Han. "You want this plan to work? Get your butt back out there and do your job, or they'll start to get suspicious."

After Han leaves, you take some time pacing around your cell and ruminating his words. The plan is risky, but any plan in a place as secure as a quarantine zone would be. There's a lot of room for error and a ton of kinks to work out, but your heart is focusing on something much louder than what your mind needs to be thinking of; Minho. Why hasn't he come to see you if he's here? You assume you weren't supposed to find out since he's only helping Han technically. Will he find out you know? And if he does, will he come see you then? Or is him knowing you a danger to himself? If they connect him to you escaping both here and the hospital, what will happen to him? You don't let yourself think about it too much more, opting to sit and pick at the bars of your cell as a distraction.

Just over an hour later, Han is back at your cell with a ring of keys in his shaky hands. After a few tries, he drops the keys and you're on your feet in an instant, sticking your hand through the bars to grab his hand as he tries a new key. He's looking at you now, eyes darting toward the door as he attempts to even his breathing. You squeeze his hand, a way to reassure him that everything will be okay, even if you don't know that for sure.

"I think someone knows," Han blurts. "I think someone saw me sneaking out of Captain Kim's office with Minho."

"Then we need to hurry," You say, keeping your voice calm. "If they're onto us, we need to be able to get out of here before they can find us, okay? That means you have to calm down. I know it isn't easy, but you have to try."

He takes a deep breath, sticking the final key in the lock. A click sounds and your cell door swings open, allowing you to finally leave the cage you've inhabited over the last few days. Han quickly releases Chaeryeong and speeds over to the door, taking a look outside before opening it wider to let you two out ahead of him. Changbin is right outside and you jump at the sight of him.

"Thanks for the help," You say, avoiding eye contact as he leads you through the dark halls.

Changbin opens a door into what looks like a storage closet. "I owe it to you, and to Squad Leader Lee."

"Is he- how is he?" You pause, knowing you shouldn't.

"He's..." Changbin kneels down to push aside a threadbare rug to reveal a trap door not unlike the one in the cottage, easily opening it with one hand and stepping to the side. "He's surviving. Did he not-"

"Traitors."

The one word is enough to make you all turn around to see Officer Song staring at you with narrow eyes, red in the face. With a gun in one hand and some kind of hand-held radio in the other, he's calling for backup in no time. As he raises the weapon at your group, you're diving down the hole and running right when your feet hit the ground. You catch a glimpse of the others when you take a look behind you, seeing that Changbin has joined the escape. The tunnels are musty and rough, with hard dirt and clay making up the walls and ceilings. Multiple tunnels diverge from the one you're running down, but you continue to go straight with no real direction. You have no idea where you're going, only that you need to keep moving.

"Turn up there!" Changbin shouts from behind you; he's closer than the others, his footsteps catching up to yours.

Doing as he says, you turn right where the pathway curves, but you're met with a hard wall of a person, causing you to stumble backward. Han wasn't able to grab a weapon for you, so you raise your fists in defense. Past your hands, you make eye contact with Minho and freeze, spotting Squad Leader Seo behind him in your peripheral vision. There's still shouting behind you, but you can't move; the world has slowed and it's just you and him staring at each other.

"I guess there's no talking you out of this now," Minho says. "They're on your trail."

"Yeah," You say, barely breathing. "You should leave before they find you with us, both of you."

Squad Leader Seo shakes her head. "I'm not leaving my brother."

"Okay." You start walking again, then jogging. "There- a door!"

A heavy door sits at the end of the tunnel, but as you approach you notice the giant sign- DO NOT OPEN! INFECTED QUARTERS!

"I just had a genius idea," you say. There are two other pathways leading away from the door and you notice an arrow pointing down one side, signaling an alternate exit, which sparks a plan. "We need to get this thing open, then bolt, but we have to time this perfectly."

"Are you insane?" Squad Leader Seo moves past you, beginning down the other path. "We'll all get killed. Better to just get out while we still can."

"C'mon! Yeah, it's risky, so is this whole damn escape!" You throw your arms up in frustration. "It's going to open toward us, blocking us out of sight. Any infected behind that door are going to go for the people straight in front of them, aka, the people who want to kill us. They're already catching up, this'll buy us time!"

"I guess you have a point," She sighs. "But that door is heavy, it'll take all of us-"

"So we'd better get started, because it looks like they're here." Minho grabs the top of the large metal door handle, nodding his head to the end of the tunnel you came from.

Grabbing the bottom, you help him pull. Changbin comes between you, sweat beading on your brow bone from the effort. The door creaks and groans loudly as it opens and you can already hear hissing and growling from behind. Once it's about halfway open, it swings the rest of the way easily, stopping right where you thought it would. Next to you, Han and Squad Leader Seo are firing at the approaching soldiers, quickly stopping as the door shelters you from the fight about to begin. Using the door as cover, you take a minute to breathe. There are people shouting from beyond the door, mixing with the terrifying noises of the zombies you've unleashed upon them. When you hear a squelching sound, your feet move on their own away from fight.

At the end of the tunnel, there's a trap door leading up, rusty metal bars sticking out of the dirt wall to form a ladder. Minho goes first, placing a hand on your shoulder before you can head up. Distant growls and shooting become quieter as you climb up next, Chaeryeong following after you. Squad Leader Seo doesn't bother closing the trap door behind her, staring down into the darkness before walking toward the group.

The tunnel seems to have opened up a bit further than you'd have thought, right on the path of a worn patrol route. In the distance, you can see a few buildings signaling the beginning of a town, and you think it may be the same one you found Lily in. There's a road to your left and some woods right behind you, the trap door right at the tree line. From here, you can make your way back through or around the town and meet where the truck is supposed to be, if it's still there.

"Han, is the-"

Crack. The sound of a gunshot rings through the still air, the sound of a body dropping right by your feet; you're scared to see who it is. There are a few more clicks of a gun and a frustrated groan before you turn slowly to see a bloody and bitten Officer Song tossing an empty gun away. His body is halfway out of the trapdoor, one arm torn to shreds. Without medical attention, he'll bleed out, if he doesn't turn first.

"Traitors." Officer Song repeats his earlier words. Looking down, you see Changbin hovering over his sister's body, a hole in the center of her forehead. Lifeless eyes stare past you into the trees. "You had such potential."

Minho is gritting his teeth, to keep some choice words at bay you assume. His body is moving without thinking, stomping up to Officer Song and yanking his head back by the hair to look him in the eye. Watching as Minho glares down at the older man, you slowly approach. The level of hate in his eyes is something you've never seen before, almost scaring you like you're the one he's killing over and over again in his mind.

"Kill me," Officer Song taunts. "Coward."

The last straw, calling Minho a coward. A knife is at his throat in seconds, but you're holding his arm back before he can slice.

"Don't," You say, stern. "Drop the knife, Min, he's not worth it. Let him turn and suffer that pain. He deserves it."

There's a moment when Minho tries to tug his arm out of your grip, but you know he's not putting much strength into it. Slowly, his hand is back at his side, knife falling to the ground. With one last look, he spits at the ground by Officer Song. You're back to where Changbin has now picked up his sister, his eyes red and puffy as he avoids your gaze. Taking a deep breath, he nods and you start to lead the group across the road. You can hear Officer Song laughing behind you.

"Stupid girl."

"Y/n!" The sound of Chaeryeong's voice makes you spin around just in time to see the knife Minho left flying your way, but it doesn't hit you.

"No-" Chaeryeong collapses against you and you look over her shoulder; the weapon is embedded in her back, right between the wings on her graphic tee. "Chaer, no, why- why would you do that?"

You gently fall to the ground, cupping her face with one hand, the other around her waist to keep her up. Han has appeared by your side with a panicked look on his face, his own hands coming up to brush stray hairs away. There's a smile on her face as a tear falls from one of her eyes.

"I can't feel my legs." She gasps, the smile dropping for a second. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"You're not going to die-" Han says, voice shaking, although you both know the truth.

"Don't lie to me Jisung," She looks at him and laughs, followed by a cough. "Not- not now. Please."

"Chaer, you can't die." Han's voice breaks, and you save him the humility of seeing him cry by focusing on the girl in your arms. "Y-you can't, you can't die. We'll save you, Felix and Jeongin will patch you up and save you like they did Hyunjin and-"

"Ji, I can't feel anything."

There's blood on her face from where you've trailed your fingers down her jaw, a small trickle coming from the corner of her mouth the next time she coughs. Although you haven't known her as long as the others, your heart aches severely watching the light fade from her eyes. Soon, she's motionless in your lap, angel wings painted a deep red. Your eyes make contact with the knife and anger consumes you, pulling it gently out of her back and standing up.

Officer Song is lying with his cheek to the ground, but you know he's still alive by the way his chest rises and falls. His eyes are closed until you kick him in the chest to make him lie flat, eyelids shooting open in pain. Before he can speak, your boot is on his neck hard. You crouch down, keeping your foot in place as you watch him smile.

"You think you're so fucking funny?" You hiss, voice laced with venom. "You won't be laughing when this knife is down your fucking throat."

Removing your foot, you drive the blade at the exposed skin of his neck and drag it down, blood flooding on either side of him. He's choking, one hand weakly trying to stop the bleeding. You see the life leave his face, the final twitch of his fingers; you can't stop staring until someone is pulling you away. Stumbling back, you let Minho bring you to the others. You can feel blood drying on your hands and face. Han is holding Chaeryeong, and you wish you'd have let Minho kill Officer Song.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

notes ▪︎ erm.. pls don't hate me 🙏

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @manuosorioh @hanjisunglover @xxstrayland @puppyminnnie @hanjsquokka @kpopsstuffs @ot8girlfie @quokkabite @linoslawayslinos @reapers-lover @hannieslittlerockstar @kiki0113 @nishiriks @nxtt2-u @moonlightjam @hannieslovebot @minmininnie @8lives1heart @skzswife @emi-han @alisonyus

green means i can't tag you!

#⋆₊‧⁺˖⋆˚.⋆ ͙͘͡★ LOOK UP TO THE STARS #skz #stray kids #han jisung x reader #han jisung x fem reader #han jisung #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #zombie au #zombie apocalypse au #skz zombie au #han jisung fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz series #han jisung series

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 6 months ago

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reading update: november 2024

*arrives halfway through december with a hot chocolate in hand* WHO WANTS TO KNOW WHAT I READ IN NOVEMBER

this is not going to be my best or most thoroughly written roundup but I want this shit posted so you get what you get

Sharks Don't Sink: Adventures of a Rogue Shark Scientist (Jasmin Graham with Makeba Raisin, 2024) - as a shark enjoyer who was too dumb to go into marine biology, I was really looking forward to Graham's book about her experiences as a Black woman working in this very white field. while the book's a bit dry it's also a fun, quick read, with an infinitely likeable narrator whose passion bursts out of every page and will delight anybody who also loves sharks. Graham's determination to forge her own path and make spaces for herself and other women of color makes for an inspiring story, and though this book isn't specifically targeted at younger readers, I'd happily recommend gifting it to any girls looking at getting into any kind of animal-related field so that they can find a worthy role model in Jasmin Graham.

Bite by Bite: Nourishments and Jamborees (Aimee Nezhukumatathil, 2024) - I feel bad, but I was disappointed! I was so smitten with poet Nezhukumatathill's previous collection of short essays, World of Wonder, in which she extolls the virtues of various animals and plants. while I always enjoy a lush description of a good food, and the illustrations were very charming (the shave ice in particular had me YEARNING to blow my savings on a trip to Hawaii), it Bite by Bite lacked the substance of its predecessor. the connections drawn in each essay felt a bit more contrived this time around, with many feeling like thinly veiled justifications for Nezhukumatathil to pontificate on her sons growing up rather than celebrating the foods she spotlights for their own merits. I ended up feeling as if I was rushing to get it over with, which is always sad.

Four Lost Cities: A Secret History of the Urban Age (Annalee Newtiz, 2021) - this was one of the most unexpect delights of the year. I know borderline nothing about archaeology and anthropology, but Newitz paints such vivid images of their subjects that I found myself getting genuinely emo about disaster relief efforts in Pompeii. idk what it was, man, but they took their right turns stupid just like we did! humans is the same after all this time! it's been a while since I picked up a book about something totally alien to me and got to settle in for the pure joy of learning from a talented writer, and this book hit the spot tremendously. if anyone is planning on doing my 2025 book bingo challenge and needs an idea for the nonfiction about a topic that's new to them, consider this a recommendation!

The Truth According to Ember (Danica Nava, 2024) - maaaaan. I wasn't, like, blown away by the synopsis of this romance novel, in which the titular Ember lies about being white rather than Chickasaw in order to land a job only to immediately find herself crushing hard on a Native coworker, Danuwoa, and getting increasingly wrapped up in a web of lies. while the plot's not exactly original, I was excited to check out a book by a Native author about Native characters getting a pretty big release, something I hadn't yet encountered in romancelandia. but honestly? the biggest disappointment in this book wasn't the unoriginal story or Disney Channel sitcom-levels of hijinks to maintain the various lies, but it's the fact that lying about being white isn't even really the crux of the plot. Ember doesn't get fired for that! that's not actually the thing anyone has an issue with! she gets in trouble for lying about having a degree that she doesn't have to get a job she's wildly underqualified for, which is a significantly bigger issue! but all of the marketing is based on her lying about being Native, which feels... idk, it feels misleading? also the romance takes, like, a loooong time to show up; Danuowa is very secondary for like the first third of the book while we learn about the ins and outs of Ember's life, family drama, and new job. I don't know if I've ever been begging for a romance heroine to interact with love interest more, but this book made it happen.

The MAGA Diaries: My Surreal Adventures Inside the Right-Wing (And How I Got Out) (Tina Nguyen, 2024) - on the one hand, I really fuckin' feel for Tina Nguyen. what started out as a college flirtation with libertarianism spiraled into a deep immersion in the burgeoning alt-right thanks to her then-boyfriend, including a brief stint working under Tucker Carlson himself. Nguyen ultimately comes to realize the extent of batshit insanity the republican party is descending into, jumping ship well before the 2016 election thanks to an increasing sense that something is deeply amiss among the right's journalism core. (one especially chilling anecdote involves Nguyen, the daughter of Vietnamese immigrants, discovering that her longtime mentor, a man she had trusted for years to help advise her career, had been caught discussing a desire to curb America's population of immigrants.) although she spins her firsthand knowledge and exhaustive list of contacts to start reporting on the right for liberal outlets, Nguyen remains skeptical of what she perceives a critical lack of organization among the Democrats, which I can certainly forgive her for. I have a bit more side eye for Nguyen's reluctance to fully condemn some of her old colleagues; in particular, she goes to lengths to emphasize that Carlson was a pretty chill boss. idk, maybe it's hard to cut ties that completely, even with people who turned out to be monsters. overall the memoir is lacking any especially artful prose but is a bitchin' gossip piece with some decent insights into how the right organizes.

Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning (Cathy Park Hong, 2020) - it's always so momentous when a book actually lives up to the hype. Hong blurs memoir and essay for a resonant and painful examination of all the ways Asian American identity gets tangled up in shame, including her own. this book is potent, and by far one of my favorite nonfiction reads of the year. I think @zaricats recommended it like 700 years ago so thank you for that!

Crazy Rich Asians (Kevin Kwan, 2013) - it's. fine. it's literally just fine.

The Nightmare Before Kissmas (Sara Raasch, 2024) - not fine, this one sucked shit so bad it gave me a headache multiple times. how do you squander a premise as silly as "the Christmas Prince and the Halloween Prince are in secret gay love"? how do you make that boring? why was this mostly just a book about workplace politics with a little tinsel on top? unfortunately I WILL be reading the sequel in March, but only to complain.

Doppelganger: A Trip Into the Mirror World (Naomi Klein, 2024) - a dizzying work that ties together an astonishing number of ideas, beginning with Klein's own frustrations with being mistaken for disgraced feminist writer turned vaccine conspiracy hack Naomi Wolf to the chaotic and reactionary political landscape that so many of us find ourselves struggling to make sense of. it's a heavy and heady book, dense with well considered observations and expertly articulated thoughts despite Klein's own acknowledgement that her "research" often veered into unreasonable levels of obsession. despite Klein's long career this was my first time reading her work, and now I am Listening to anything and everything she has to say.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 12 (Ryoko Kui, trans. Taylor Engel, 2023) - I truly genuinely can't say anything about Volume 12 without saying that, by the time I'm posting this, I have also read Volumes 13 and 14 and finished the series and man. man man man. this story is just so GOOD. genuinely I love Dungeon Meshi so much.

Buzz: A Stimulating History of the Sex Toy (Hallie Lieberman, 2017) - a very fun and interesting history of the sale of sex toys in the US, including some very appreciated love for unsung heroes of the sex toy field like Jewish ventriloquist Ted Marche, Black disability activist Gosnell Duncan, and all of the women who pioneered sex stores that prioritized woman as their clientele. granted, that last group of second wave feminists comes with all the accompanying second wave bioessentialism you'd expect, and I'd be remiss not to note that the book also takes a frustratingly cissexist approach in the way it talks about man = penis and woman = vagina. I don't think Lieberman sought out to be deliberately transphobic (there is, briefly, a mention of a trans woman taking over one of the sex toy companies the book follows, and she is recognized as a woman even if her transition is shoehorned in rather awkwardly) but simply out of her depth with knowing how to address trans people in the very binary historical narrative she constructs. it's grating, but also unsurprising for a book published in 2017. if you can handle the cis weirdness and you, like me, are interested in how sexuality and pleasure are litigated, I'd really recommend checking this one out; I've already added it to the official sex witch library. it's worth the read for the surprising history of Adam & Eve alone.

#bookblr #reading updates

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cusackswhitehair · 2 months ago

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From reading your Hoarder Alex headcannon post, I am all for some fat Hoarder Alex representation. It also makes me inquire if you have any other body headcannons on him?

//Desc: I sure do!! Ever since I’ve first laid my eyes upon this scallywag I just knew he’s not the fittest of the bunch. He’s just so utterly pear-shaped, it’s amazing in a way. Obviously, I don’t condone drawing the poor guy looking so obese he could rock a show on TLC, but I do enjoy his bountiful plumpness, if I do say so myself. He’s chunky, and it’s just too sweet. And to answer your question, I’ve been overanalyzing this rapscallion for days on end, here are some more biology headcanons about Alex’s frame! Thank you for requesting!! \\

✶⋆.˚ 📁 Hoarder Alex Body Headcanons 🥞 ✶⋆.˚

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His tail is terribly fragile and delicate, only a light coat of fur protecting the thing. He has to be very careful not to jam it into anywhere too hard or wag it too hard as it can smack against anything, ultimately splitting the tail open. This man has definetely got happy tail syndrome. One time, in a more heated argument, Shoryo accidentally stomped one of her wooden hooves onto Alex’s tail. The Uncanny Streets has yet to hear a more girly scream than the one he gave out that day. After the incident, Alex walked with his tail tucked far behind for weeks.

Not to be dramatic, but I’m glad he chose the jumper and bare legs combo instead of the other way around, Alex, for the lack of a better word, has man tits. If having man tits would be an illnes, Alex would be patient zero. Is he in any way insecure about them? Hell no! In fact, he is often seen enjoying his well-deserved siesta (after doing absolutely nothing) on top of his hoarded up trash bags, blasting music over the radio with his jumper zipped down, as if he’s enjoying the sun, tanning. “Get your shirt on, man, nobody wants to see that!” “I’LL DO WHAT I WANT ON MY OWN PROPERTY, EH STRONZO!?”

Thanks to how droopy his face is, his snout fits in a lot of unconditional spaces, which is quite useful for junk diving which he does daily. His snout fits into bottles and even bongs although the latter isn’t really recommended.

His feet although acute, have small foot pads and claws, the toe beans a pinkish tinted color, matching his uneven flush when he’s angry. Although, he carries himself with much confidence, most of the time his waltzing resembles one of a soldier on guard, hence the little “tack tack tack” noises he makes on the ground. Quite intimidating, but not very effective for when he’s tries to tiptoe.

Nothing like laying down after food coma hitting! Alex loves nothing more than curling up with his tail used as a sleep mask, even such a tough guy like him has a feel of drowsiness after a hearty meal. If you pick him up and softly shake him, he’d definetely look like those kittens with their bellies full of soup. Just let the good fellow nap.

His major insecurity prove to be his eyes, that black censor bar he managed to rummage up from somewhere is really saving his image. What kind of tough maranza walks around with big fat, twinkling eyes that would put a lovelorn maiden into shame. The cersor bar makes it much harder to see, but all of his other senses are quite advanced, no need to be afraid. If you manage to catch a glance at those magnificent browns, he must really trust you. His pupils also dialate when he finds something satiable (so not too often thankfully), but elements really are working against his toughness.

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i loved doing this one smmm, i want to bite a piece off of him FAT FAT MAN PTOO FAT

#hoarder alex #ena dream bbq #ena joel g #joel g ena #joel g #ena fanfic #general headcanons #headcanons #headcanon #body headcanons #ena dbbq #dbbq #requests are open #reqs open #request

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grumpyeagleandfriends · 7 days ago

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Vigil - Chapter 1

Summary: Using the genetic material extracted from Yusuf al-Kaysani and Nicolò di Genova, Dr. Metak Kozak initiates Project Eos as an attempt to artificially replicate immortality through forced human trials. Nine embryos are created, implanted, and birthed under controlled conditions. The experiments she conducts represent a grotesque evolution of Steven Merrick’s work.

When Copley first uncovers the program, Kozak’s records declare total failure: "Group Gamma yielded no viable candidates. All subjects compromised beyond analytical utility." But six weeks later, an anonymous lab technician leaks damning footage—a single surviving child, a three year-old male designated "IL-9" with confirmed cellular regeneration and disease resistance.

The team must address the danger this discovery represents. Nicky and Joe are confronted with a child created from their stolen blood.

A/N: A post-cannon story imagining the concept of a lab-generated immortal and how it affects the Guard. Could also be seen as an examination of parenthood. Mostly that, actually. Medical torture. Dr. Kozak is her own warning tbh. Child Abuse. Nicky is a doctor. Death. Immortal Parents. Hurt/Comfort. Illness. Blood. Angst.

11:00 AM. 30 Jan. 2025, Sheldwich, Kent County, United Kingdom.

Copley’s study smelled of eighteen year Macallan and citrus wood polish. It was a space of crisp angles and warm walnut paneling, where afternoon light slanted through floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the English countryside. Every detail was curated, devoid of personal clutter save for a single silver-framed photograph facedown on the desk. The hidden image of Copley’s late wife was the only concession to sentimentality in a room so meticulously tailored it might have been lifted from the lair of a Bond villain.

They sat in mid-century leather armchairs, tension coiled in the air. Gathering them like this was a liability. Intel could be shared remotely; discussions didn’t require proximity. Yet here they were.

Andy knew before Copley even spoke. There was something in the way he surveyed them, like the weight of an inconvenient truth was pressing down. He stood before his Scandinavian desk, crisp in a navy cashmere sweater, fingers resting on a dossier thicker than a Bible. Not with hesitation, but ceremony.

It was clear for everyone that serious news was about to be delivered, but she knew that this went deeper. They had been gathered to sit in a war room.

Booker denied the quiet itch in his hand to reach for his flask. The fact that everyone agreed to show up despite his presence and ties to Copley’s new intel had been nothing short of miraculous. The conditions of his exile had been clear, but the current circumstances demanded an annulment of sorts, a truce. He registered the heel of Nile’s boot thunking against the floor. She was the only one who agreed to sit near him. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t necessary, that the others were right to keep their distance. But the meaning behind the gesture lodged somewhere in his throat, there was a sharp feeling of gratitude.

For now, he alone knew why they’d been summoned. He wondered if she would stay so close once the truth hit.

Across the coffee table, Joe and Nicky occupied a leather loveseat. Joe’s hand masked his mouth, fingers pressed to his jaw as he leaned against the armrest, eyes unreadable. He hadn’t wanted to come. He’d argued with Nicky the entire drive, listing every reason why they owed Booker and Copley nothing of their time.

Nicky had listened then, patient, prepared. He knew Joe only needed to voice his hurt, to let it dissipate before it festered. Andy and Nile’s presence alone had been more than reason enough to go.

Now, Nicky sat perfectly still, his breaths measured, glacial.

"I've been tracking Kozak since Merrick," Copley finally began, thumb clicking the presentation remote.

The monitor sitting behind him on the glass top desk bloomed to life with a classified document header. The title "Project Eos" was written in stark black and white.

"Over six years now," he continued, "I've followed money trails through seventeen shell corporations across three continents. Dead drops in Geneva. Burner labs in Minsk."

A click. The monitor flickered, they each absorbed the blue-tinted security footage of a woman in a white coat.

Nicky could only stare. That same face had hovered over him while pieces of his flesh were carved away and dropped into plastic sample containers.

"This is in Cardiff." Copley narrated. "In a private genetics facility fronting under the guise of pediatric regenerative medicine."

Andy cut in, voice firm but tired. "Skip the build up, James. Just get to what's she's done." Get to why we're here.

Copley didn’t flinch. But when his gaze landed on Joe and Nicky, the mask slipped—just for a second. A swallow. A flicker of remorse.

“Kozak’s Project Eos attempts to artificially replicate immortality through forced human trials.” He paused. “She’s created, implanted, and birthed nine embryos under controlled conditions.”

His voice was too calm, the way surgeons would begin to present a case to a patient’s family before announcing complications.

“This was done using genetic material from you both. The nine candidates, labeled “Subject Group Gamma” were all listed as 'non-viable'.”

Genetic material.

Nicky could remember when Kozak extracted samples from a more intimate area of his body, particularly the special technique she used to procure what she wanted. When it was done to him, the act was undoubtedly degrading, but he was able to process the moment as a temporary humiliation. When she turned to do the same to Joe's unconscious form, Nicky's calm abruptly dissolved. He bucked against his restraints, unable to tolerate the sudden onset of searing anger under his own ribs.

Copley continued on, pulling him from his thoughts.

"But a whistleblower has since come forward, a lab technician recently moved from a Merrick facility in Geneva. They revealed that our previous intel was inaccurate. A false flag."

A new slide flicked across the monitor. The first horror. Autopsy reports.

"We gained the autopsy reports of the first eight subjects," Copley said quietly. "All infants. Seven died before reaching one year of age, but then there was a breakthrough. The eighth child lived to 18 months."

The details of the autopsy reports were clinical, detached. Causes of death: organ failure, hemorrhaging, neural degradation. There were only serial numbers instead of names. Nicky’s fingers tightened imperceptibly on the edge of the armrest. His eyes dialed in on the information, scanning the details as quickly as he could.

Joe didn't look. He couldn't look.

"The ninth child, named Subject IL-9, is still alive." Copley continued. "A three year-old male who demonstrates consistent accelerated healing, though they haven’t yet tested mortality."

A single photograph came next. A boy, small and pale with a shaved head, curled on a metal cot. His face was partially obscured by a black censorship bar, but what little of him was visible was unmistakable. He had Joe's nose and mouth. The child looked sickly, too young to be three. Too thin.

"What is being done to him?" Nicky demanded, voice impossibly level. He rested a hand briefly on Joe's thigh, to ground himself, to check in, but withdrew the moment he felt the muscle beneath twitch like a live wire. The act had been too soon. Some wounds needed pressure. Others needed air.

Joe bent forward, elbows on knees, face buried in his hands. His fingers dragged through his beard, rough and unsteady. The room tilted. He needed air. Needed to put his fist through something, or maybe feel someone else's fist collide with his cheek. He didn’t look at anyone. He couldn’t. His gaze fixed on the floor, on the wood grain under his sneakers, on the two birds chasing each other just outside the window, on anything but the screen where the deaths of eight children were dissected in unforgivingly clinical language.

He could only force himself to breathe. There was no other way forward, no other way to process what he was feeling from this violation—this mix of revulsion and hurt.

"The testing on the child has been...systematic." Copley's voice was measured, face souring as he carefully chose his words. The white plastic casing of the remote softly cracked under the force of his grip.

"Phase one consisted of pathogen exposure to common strains of measles, influenza, and tuberculosis. Each infection was meticulously timed to measure recovery rates." A click. Graphs of fever spikes, white blood cell counts. "They noted his immune response was 'anomalously efficient', with recovery achieved by day four of each trial."

Nicky’s jaw shifted, but his voice never changed. Always calm, always even. "How much information did you recover on his medical history?"

"It’s incomplete,” Copley began. “But the whistleblower provided us with daily vital logs, trauma and healing reports, neurological assessments, weight charts—"

"Give separate copies to me. Everything you have." Nicky interjected. He squinted as he read the numbers of a growth chart fixed on the screen. The last entry was from nearly two months ago, the child was recorded as 84 centimeters tall and weighing 10 kilograms.

"Phase two tested his resilience to environmental extremes." Copley’s mouth thinned. "Four hours in 2°C water. Five hours in a climatic chamber at 42°C. Timed oxygen deprivation just before the threshold of brain damage. Fourteen days of gradually reduced calorie and fluid intake.”

Joe rose abruptly from the love seat, his knee roughly bumping the coffee table as he stood. He crossed to the window in large strides, his back rigid, one hand braced against the window frame. The tendons in his forearms stood out like cables.

Copley continued, quieter now. "Phase three moved to physical trauma. Compound fractures—" A slide of an X-ray, a tiny femur snapped clean through. "—lacerations, burns. Healing averaged one to two hours for deep tissue, three hours for bone."

The cap of Nile’s pen snapped in her grip, but she continued to listen attentively. Those rates of healing were longer than what it took for them. Her eyes flicked over to the faces of the others, but there was no way to discern if their thoughts were following the same paths. Everyone looked ill.

For a moment, Copley showed signs of fatigue. He let the hand holding the remote fall to his side. He glanced at his desk before finishing.

“Phase four has not yet begun, but the whistleblower warned that this is when they intend to test his mortality.”

Andy’s voice cut through. "We don’t wait on this one." She stood, approaching the desk to seize the dossier prepared by Copley and Booker. "We go in and extract the boy. Steal every byte of intel, then scrub the place." Her gaze swept the room. "It has to be full sanitization. We leave no witnesses."

Copley nodded, clicking to the blueprints. "All intel indicates that he is held here, in a third floor isolation unit." He pointed the red dot of a laser at the west wing.

Booker leaned forward, tracing demolition points on the schematic. "C4 in the parking garage and ground floor support columns. Thermite cocktail here—" He tapped the server room. "—enough to melt their research into slag."

He had memorized every inch of the building: entrances, exits, corridors, stairwells, and ventilation shafts. There was no escape route not pre-mapped out in his mind, no corner to hide in that he didn't know. The rotations of security and staff, the layout of the below ground parking garage, the brand of bleach the janitors used—over the last month, Booker had funneled all of his remorse into learning every detail about this facility.

He cleared his throat before focusing tentatively on Andy, finding her unreadable mask to be steadying in some way. This was only soul he knew to report to, who he knew to follow without question.

"The largest shift change happens just before 0200. That's the time to hit. Two nurses. One resident. Guards cut to skeleton crew."

Nile’s fingers drummed a marching rhythm against the armrest. "Andy and I can breach through security. Disable cameras, clear a path." Her eyes flicked to Joe’s motionless form by the window. "Nicky and Joe take point on extraction."

Nile, who sat stiff-backed, her dark eyes flickering between the screen and her family, so unflinching in the face of a reality that they all viscerally rejected. She never had a choice in the matter. Being an immortal of the modern era, she would never know the luxury the others once did—of lifetimes spent hiding in the shadows, of drifting untraced. Her immortality was always going to be a game of cat and mouse, and now, before she could even adjust, she was being asked to protect another life that would never know peace.

Silence settled after her proposal, seemingly as acceptance. Then—

"No survivors, then." Joe spoke, still facing the glass. His reflection was blurred, his words like a serrated blade, something not meant to cut clean. "What about Kozak?"

Copley was quick to answer. "Bern. She’s presenting at a private symposium tomorrow."

Andy sat back in her seat, legs outstretched. The lines around her eyes deepened as she stared at something at midline only she could see.

"We hit the lab first. Then we end this." It landed like stones—final, immovable.

"News from the lab will hit her immediately," Nile countered. "Doesn't that give her time to disappear?"

Andy didn't move, her eyes remained steady. She spoke with the weariness of someone who had seen more bodies buried than the ground could contain. "Let her run," she spoke so quietly that it might have been to herself. Then louder, with the full weight behind it: "I've hunted smarter prey. This stops now."

Copley cleared his throat. "For what it’s worth, we’ve had eyes on her financial trails for over three years. Every alias, every shell account. She hasn’t taken a step without us knowing since 2021." He looked to Nicky, then to Joe's back. "If you go for her first, we risk the boy being moved. The lab’s servers need to be melted before they can scrub the data."

Joe turned from the window, his face eerily blank, the kind of calm that came before a surge. This wasn't the absence of fury, but the absolute clarity that rage could provide when put to good use. Everyone expected him to walk out after Copley’s presentation. He had every right to. Every reason to slam the door, to vanish, to let the complex storm of shock and fear burning under his flesh fuel him through the English countryside until his legs gave out.

But he didn’t.

Surprising everyone but Nicky.

His attention locked onto Booker first.

Not Andy, not Nile, not Copley. Booker.

Because Joe knew Booker was the one who prepared this work. Because despite the betrayal, despite the fractured trust that still ached between them, Booker was the one who had always been best at this: the slow, methodical gathering of intel, the obsessive mapping of every variable. And now, he was here with them, trying to atone in the only way he knew how—by providing a way to fix this.

Joe crossed the room and dropped himself into the armchair Andy had abandoned.

"Walk me through your plan." He quietly demanded. His voice was hollowed out, the kind of tone that made the air in the room feel thin.

Joe and Booker sat and discussed for hours. Their gear was already sourced—untraceable weapons, ammunition, a van with plates that would burn clean after extraction. It was an hour's drive to Bristol, where a private plane would be waiting to take them quickly back to East London, then a second van to bring them back to Copley's house in Sheldwich. From there, they would work out where everyone would go next. Copley would monitor the situation and work through covering their tracks.

Nile and Andy joined in. The four of them hashed out the plan all afternoon, then well into the evening. Timing. Division of roles, who would be covering who. Contingency plans in the event the child was too weak at any point to be moved.

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

01:17 AM. 31 Jan. 2025, Sheldwich, Kent County, United Kingdom.

The moment the intel presentation ended, Nicky didn’t join where the others were clustered around the coffee table, debating extraction plans and arguing timelines. He cornered Copley near his large desk, demanding the boy’s medical files.

To his credit, Copley didn’t hesitate. A laptop and two USB drives were deposited into Nicky’s hands without question. It was impossible to miss the flicker of guilt in the man’s gaze during the exchange. He understood what horrors he was silently delivering, he knew the pain that awaited.

For the next twelve hours, Nicky locked himself in the guest bedroom, the glow of the laptop screen painting shadows under his eyes. He operated with the urgency of someone who believed he could already be too late, racing against time to undo what might already be irreversible.

He cross-referenced every procedure, every notation, every spike or drop in vitals. His fingers worked tirelessly over the keyboard, constructing a meticulous chart—weight fluctuations, heart rate anomalies, the jagged decline of a body pushed beyond its limits. The reports were inconsistent. Sometimes his injuries closed unnaturally fast, other times his fever raged for days unchecked. Nicky knew how stress at these levels could inhibit healing. Even if the boy’s body could repair at a similar rate to them, the constant strain he was under would greatly disrupt his abilities. If Kozak’s team was truly nearing phase four, the boy would be in no state to recover quickly. His body would be eating itself alive to keep up with the pace of forced regeneration.

With this information, Nicky knew he had to work under the guiding principle that the boy was mortal. He would plan for the worst, and then hope—against evidence, against the gnawing dread in his chest—for the best.

He made an exhaustive list of the medical supplies they would need, things Copley could source quickly from his connections. Pediatric IV kits, bags of standard saline as well as lactated Ringer’s solution, nasal cannulas, oxygen tanks, a portable blood analyzer, a glucose monitor, pain killers, broad spectrum antibiotics, a child-sized pulse oximeter and blood pressure cuff...

Nicky also made a separate list of practical items and things for comfort: clothing, toiletries, toys, books. The reports had been clinical in their omissions. There was no mention of play time, of going outside, or of any schooling. Nicky had doubts about how much interaction this child received. Did someone come consistently whenever he cried? Did the staff take the time to talk to him, to teach him words? The sparse references to toys were particularly bleak. They were used only as bribes during cognitive and neurological tests, brief rewards taken away the moment the boy’s cooperation was ensured.

The grandfather clock in the hall hummed past midnight when the others finally dispersed. Footsteps retreated in different directions down the corridor, doors softly shut one by one.

Joe padded quietly into their borrowed bedroom, his face a mask when he found Nicky still sitting on the bed, laptop open on his legs.

The door slid closed behind him with a click, sealing them away from the outside world.

Neither spoke.

There was a certain weight in the way Joe moved that was all wrong. His limbs operated too cautiously, not with the calm before battle, but with the quiet of someone trying hard to control his breath, as if an undetonated bomb shared this space with them.

The silence stretched in the room, tight as a piano wire. There was only the faint crackle of dying embers in the Malm fireplace, their glow creating warped shadows across the floor.

"You should sleep." Nicky murmured, voice hardly above a whisper.

Joe let out a rushed exhale, not quite a laugh. "You first."

Nicky’s gaze flickered over him in the dim light, reading the lines of his body like a map. It was as if he could see right through his skin. The hurt was still there, simmering beneath buffering layers of calm. But even deeper under that façade, Nicky knew there was something wounded, something terrified.

Joe settled down onto one of the winged armchairs next to the vintage fireplace. They were given the largest of the bedrooms. Nicky imagined that it had at one point been used by Copley and his wife, but he would never ask. Joe's elbows rested on his knees while he began rifling through their shared suitcase, searching out his desired clothes for sleepwear. The thermal henley came off in one rough tug, the fabric catching briefly on the curve of his shoulders before he wrenched it free. His jeans followed, discarded in a heap beside the chair. He dressed for bed with the same efficiency he might use to strip a rifle��methodical, detached. He opted to wear one of their stretched out sleep shirts and a pair of joggers, glancing down at his feet and internally debating for a moment before deciding to keep his socks.

Wordlessly, he plucked his toiletry sack from the side compartment and slipped into the ensuite. His face remained distant, checked out.

Nicky waited until he returned from brushing his teeth, watching the way he traipsed over to the bed. Joe sat down on the edge, but didn't turn, didn't move to settle himself back against the headboard. His dark eyes gazed through the floor to ceiling windows that comprised the entirety of one wall in the bedroom, watching the unrelenting rain continue to fall outside.

"Talk to me."

Joe’s arms loosely crossed, his fingers gripping his elbows, his jaw taut.

"What is there to say?” He demanded softly. “Tomorrow we go in and we get him out. We burn the rest."

Nicky’s attention didn’t waver from his husband's back. "And after?"

The question hung between them, heavy with everything they could not say, sagging under the weight of all that they didn't have time to discuss.

Joe’s fingertips skimmed over the skin of his arms, a motion meant to self-soothe.

"After, we make sure no one else comes. We rip the weeds out by the roots, then salt the earth."

"That’s not what I meant—"

"I know."

"Do you?" Nicky wondered in what was barely above a whisper. "This isn’t a mission, Joe. This isn’t extraction and extraction alone. If he is—" He stopped, the words stuck in his chest, too difficult to give form.

Again, Joe had the encroaching feeling that he couldn’t breathe. He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, raked his fingers through his beard.

They submitted once more to the awful quiet. The wind outside caused the windows to rattle.

Joe's arms uncrossed, hands now resting down at his sides, his fingers unclenched only to curl again into the fabric of his sweat pants. His head bowed forward, the words scraping out like gravel underfoot.

"I can’t stop thinking about how we didn’t know."

The silence that followed was leaden.

Nicky watched the strain build through Joe's body—the rigid line of his shoulders, the way his breath stuttered before he forced it to steady. In that moment he ached to reach for him, to press his palms against the tension and work it loose with his fingers, his mouth, his whispered reassurances. But Nicky knew that it wasn't the right time, that whatever he would say would only fall flat.

"We felt Nile. We felt Booker." Joe's voice dropped lower, rougher. "How could we not feel any of this?"

This.

A child's suffering. The silent agony of the ones before him. The way their own blood had been turned against them, used to create and destroy in equal measure. Centuries of war, of loss, of resurrection. He struggled to think of a prior experience that could have prepared them for this particular feeling of helplessness

"We can't be sure how it works." Nicky said carefully. "Maybe because he wasn’t born. He was made."

Made. The implications of the word curdled between them.

Joe's lashes fluttered as his eyes slipped shut. His jaw clicked as it shifted minutely to one side.

"Or maybe because we weren’t paying attention."

Nicky didn’t have a response. The guilt was there, in both of them—a silent, aching feeling that they had fallen short.

He found himself wishing so deeply that they had the time to help each other ease into this. It was a cruel stroke of irony: that immortals who inherently had only an abundance of time, suddenly found themselves with none. There would be no slow unraveling of this pain, no gentle easing into the horror.

Joe let out a breath, his head turning to glance over his shoulder. "What are we supposed to do after we get out of there tomorrow?" The question was hushed and lost. "Because, Nicky, if he lives, if he’s ours to—"

He stopped himself, rocking slightly as he failed to continue that line of thought. Because what he was really asking was too callus to be voiced outright. How do they help a child who was never meant to be a child? How do they teach trust to someone who has only known pain? How were they to care for something born from theft and defilement?

Nicky leaned forward, his knuckles skating over the small of Joe's back. "We do what we have always done." he murmured. "We adapt."

Joe closed his eyes. "And if he dies in that lab before we reach him?"

"Then we make sure no one else suffers like him again."

An ember cracked in the fireplace, spitting crimson sparks into the darkness. Nicky blinked against the dry ache in his eyes—he'd been staring at screens and reports for over twelve hours. The medical jargon blurred at the edges, but the numbers were still stark imprints in his mind.

He closed the laptop, letting it click shut with finality.

"You haven’t read any of it, have you?"

Joe turned to properly look at him then, his head twisting in gentle disbelief.

"Why would I need to?" His voice frayed at the edges. "I know what they do in places like that. I remember."

Nicky's fingers slid down the laptop's edge before he set the device aside. He chose his next words carefully. "They infected him with tuberculosis back in November. He recovered in three days." A deliberate pause. "They broke his femur to test the rate of regeneration. Twice."

Joe flinched as if struck. "Nicolò—"

"As far as I know, they never gave him a name." The words were meant to be informative, but his tone was like broken glass, brittle and fragmented. "In the reports, he’s just IL-9."

The air left Joe's lungs in a wounded rush. He surged to his feet, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, as if trying to erase the images flooding his mind. "Stop."

He took three stumbling steps towards the bathroom before he whirled, his composure shattered.

“How can you?" The words tore from him, accusatory, unable to hide his own disgust any longer. "How can you spend hours looking at that? It's torture. Every fucking line.”

Nicky didn’t flinch at what he was saying, even if a small part of him did feel incredulous towards the man across the room from him. His gaze held Joe's with a terrible sort of patience, aching with something too vast to name.

What was he to say? That he feared turning away from what was done somehow made him complicit? That bearing witness was the only absolution left to them? Even for someone like him, it was too self-righteous a thing to say out loud. He knew that the reality was much simpler, much uglier.

Truthfully, Nicky thought that if he focused on the broken bones, the fevers, however much blood was drawn, he wouldn't have to consider the greater violation—that this child only existed because someone had stolen pieces of them both. If he let his mind wander beyond the boy’s physical wounds, he would have to face the enormity of what had been done. Not just to this child’s body, but to himself, to Joe.

Instead of saying any of this, Nicky only blinked. And now, his own throat burned as he struggled to speak normally.

“Someone must.”

The truth sat between them like a third presence.

Because it’s a child, a child made from your blood and mine.

One that we may have failed before we even learned of his existence, before he ever received a name.

Nicky rose from the bed, his eyes never straying from Joe. His hands hovered between them as an offering—a rope cast out amongst the waves they treaded. He didn’t come close enough to touch, but enough to feel the heat radiating from his husband’s rigid shoulders.

"Maybe," he began, voice roughened from spending hours in silence, "if I know what they did, I can learn how to undo it." The words were frail sounding, the intention of hope behind them so unstable. "So when we bring him home, I can meet him where he is."

Joe’s lips compressed together into a tight line, the skin around his eyes folded. The look he leveled at Nicky wasn’t just sadness, it was the quiet devastation of someone watching their beloved grasp at threads.

"There may be no 'after' for him."

The gentleness in his tone made it worse. This careful doling out of mercy, as if Nicky hadn't already dissected every horrific possibility in the twelve hours he'd spent with those files. As if the image of a small body wrapped in sheets wasn't already seared behind his eyelids.

Nicky didn’t argue. He studied the tremor in Joe’s clenched hands, the way his husband's gaze darted to every exit but never once to the laptop on the nightstand.

"No, perhaps not." he agreed softly while stepping into Joe's space. His palms mapped the familiar terrain of Joe's arms, sliding down to pry open his stiff fingers. "But we still must plan as if there will be."

With an unsteady exhale, Joe surrendered to Nicky’s touch, letting him manipulate his wrists and hands however he wanted. Even in anguish, he was taking the time to consider his love's words, much like he always did. Though his emotions were known to burn bright, he was a man capable of immense reflection, always able to land at the core of things. Here, Nicky could see him trying to measure their needs, much like a merchant pouring over the figures in his books—what surplus still remained, what could they salvage? All of his calculations looked to be coming up short. This pain was too thick to quantify, stuffed away for survival’s sake yet hanging over their heads with mocking laughter.

Nicky guided Joe’s palms to his own ribcage, pressing them flat against the rise and fall of his breath. His large hands settled over them, anchoring them both there.

"We learn what he is—” He murmured, the bass of his voice the only steady thing in the dark. “—we learn what they made him. Then we try to become what he needs."

Joe swallowed before nodding. His eyes closed tightly for a beat, then a soft curse slipped from his lips.

Their bodies folded together.

Nicky’s chin tilted in wordless invitation, allowing Joe to press his face into the familiar hollow of his neck. They inhaled each other, finding the very scent of home—a place they had been able to carry with them for centuries because they understood that it could never be tied to a single location or physical dwelling, but rather to this life they carved out together. Nicky hummed as his husband’s hands fanned over his shoulder blades, each of them finding solace in the other's frame. They remained like this for an uncertain amount of time, listening to the sounds of their own breathing, the wet click of their throats swallowing, their syncopated heartbeats.

The silence between them had always been its own language. It was Joe who eventually chose to break it.

"It wasn't just him." He said, voice thick and trembling. He tried to steady his hands by finding Nicky's waist. "Eight others. Brought into this world and snuffed out. And we never had the faintest clue."

Nicky had avoided this, because he could not afford thinking about the others. Perhaps years from now, when enough time and distance sat between them and this revelation, he would step into a quiet church and light eight individual candles. He would recite familiar prayers, not for forgiveness, but for the grief he’d been forced to bury away. But this would be a ritual for far into the future—for a time when he and Joe had steadier ground beneath their feet, for when their family was no longer in such immediate danger. Now, they could only focus on what they still held the power to change.

“Yes.” His agreement was quiet. “But now he is all that matters.”

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

02:21 AM. 01 Feb. 2025, Cardiff, Wales, United Kingdom.

Joe sat cross legged on the floor of the van, his back pressed against the metal wall.

The weather report had promised a dry night, but Cardiff exhaled a bitter, icy mist all the same. The fine drizzle floated through the air, the small droplets clinging to hair and clothes alike, needling through layers until it penetrated the bones.

The operation had been clean, until it wasn’t.

Disabling the cameras took Nile ninety seconds. Andy dispatched the entrance guards and those posted inside with barely a pause—they fell one by one as she and Nile pushed deeper, silenced by blade before their shouts could form. With each fallen guard, Andy and Nile called out their kills through the comms system. Joe and Nicky flowed a few paces behind them in perfect sync, sealing exits and watching angles. Only Booker broke rhythm from the group, vanishing into a side stairwell to descend to the lower levels, his bag filled with enough C4 to demolish a building twice as tall.

Locating the boy on the third floor cost them the most time, a dangerous amount of time. They had to force access code information from the two nurses on duty, the type of work that is never pretty.

Andy bent fingers backward one by one until one of them sobbed out a series of entry numbers.

Three minutes. A result that was nowhere near her personal best.

Nicky and Joe went in alone to collect the boy.

Fifteen minutes total.

That's all it took to breach the facility and extract what should never have been taken.

Now, the mangled security gate screamed under the van’s tires as Andy drove them away.

Joe hadn’t been able to touch him back in that sterile room. They found the boy lying in an elevated metal crib, it's barred walls looming over him more like a cage than a bed. His small body was tethered by electrodes and wires. Velcro straps pinned his arms outstretched on either side. Even as he slept, they felt the need to keep a sickly three year-old restrained.

In the van’s rattling dark, Nicky cradled the boy against his chest, swaying slightly on his knees. His gaze flickered over their gear, pausing on the thin padded mat they’d brought for the child. It had seemed practical back in planning. Now, with the boy’s shallow breaths warming his collarbone, his body too weak to properly lift his head, it felt unforgivably stark.

Something in Joe shifted. Without hesitation, he wrenched over the nearest duffel, rummaging past weapons and wire until his fingers caught on familiar fabric—a shared sweatshirt that belonged to them, threadbare from years of use, still carrying traces of Aleppo soap and sandalwood. He spread it across his lap, a buffer against the cold damp of his tactical gear. Shifting forward, he quickly lifted his vest up and over his head, tossing it aside.

"Set him down." Joe swallowed to make his voice cooperate. "It's—it's okay."

Nicky shifted, murmuring, “Fai piano, tienigli la testa…” (Easy, support his head...)

Joe’s hands rose on instinct to help settle the boy's delicate weight. His palm pressed to where the back of the child’s neck met the base of his skull, fingers splaying to support his head. The contact was like a hot spark landing in dry tender—real, real, suddenly too real. A child, a living thing made from him, taken from his body without permission, now lay cradled across his lap. Not quite his, but certainly of him.

His mind stuttered when he looked down at the boy’s face, so undeniably close to his own—from the slope of his nose, to the arch of his brows, Joe could see his own features softened into something small and fragile. A few echoes of Nicky were threaded throughout: in the stubborn set of his chin, the unique shape of his small ears. It made something sick and heavy coil in his gut. This was no miracle. It was violation given form, a life wrenched into existence without thought for mercy or consent. And yet—

The boy stirred weakly, his cracked lips parting around a soundless gasp. His fingers twitched against Joe’s thigh, the movement barely there.

Before he could think, he gently shushed him, the back of his fingers smoothing over his brow. The motion came without his explicit permission, pulled from some deep, unguarded place.

His eyes snapped up, meeting Nicky’s over the boy’s trembling body.

“Help me get this off him." He jerked his chin down towards the off-white lab blanket. The stench of bleach and something sour, like sweat gone stale, clung to the rough fabric. He couldn’t stomach the thought of the child being wrapped in anything from that place for a second longer. Not when they were meant to be taking him somewhere far away and safe.

Nicky didn’t argue, able to plainly hear the plea beneath the words. With careful hands, he helped peel the blanket off and tossed it aside. Together, they worked to swaddle him in the material of the old sweatshirt, the garment dwarfing his emaciated frame.

Around them, the others kept up their careful pretense of focus—Andy’s hands steady on the wheel, Booker’s tense silence in the passenger's seat. Nile was positioned just behind them, her head stuck between the two while she watched the road.

“What’s the time on detonation?” She demanded, directions provided by Copley pulled up on her phone.

“Don’t worry about it.” Booker dismissed her question as Andy turned onto a side street. “I gave us enough of a window.”

None of them for a single second doubted Booker’s calculations, in the same way they still trusted his ability to forge their identification papers and to iron out the logistics for the next mission. Nile's question was more about filling the silence, about not disturbing the intimacy of the moment Nicky and Joe were sharing behind her. They were giving them this, at least: the illusion of privacy in the cramped, rattling space.

The gentle clunk and swish of the windshield wipers continued against the rain. Still only a few blocks away from the lab, the aftermath of Booker’s work would come soon enough. The Tesco across the street from Kozak's facility would rattle with the force of the explosion, glass windows would shatter out into fragments against the pavement.

The lab would be left as a hollowed shell.

Nicky was already pulling supplies from his med kit, his movements fluid despite the van's jolting rhythm. A stethoscope draped over the back of his neck, he shifted to kneel before them, steady even as the vehicle lurched, his large hands hovered at the sweatshirt's zipper.

"Joe.”

His name sounded different as it left Nicky's mouth, not a summons but a tether, spoken so it wouldn't travel any further than Joe's ears.

Joe blinked, like surfacing from deep water, the sounds of the present drawing him back from where his thoughts had spiraled. His dark eyes slowly sharpened, the weight of his gaze shifting from shock to awareness. He didn't realize how tightly he had been clutching the sweatshirt, his fingers felt nearly fused to the cotton fabric.

"I need to check him." Nicky’s voice was firm but not unkind. "So I can see how to help him."

The words passed easily. Joe managed a stiff nod, his throat dry with a sort of helplessness they had been unable to shake since they were gathered in Copley's study. His hands fell away from the small body stretched across his lap.

Slowly, Nicky worked down the zipper of the jacket. He unfastened the shoulder snaps of the boy's grey medical gown, pulling back the thin fabric to reveal his bare torso. The signs of malnourishment jumped out at them, he was all sharp angles and prominent bones. Each breath he drew pulled the skin taut over his ribs.

The boy's eyes, a lighter shade of brown than Joe's, watched as Nicky warmed the diaphragm of his stethoscope between his palms. There was no reaction when the metal made contact with his chest, his half-lidded gaze continued to travel warily between the two men hovering over him.

The child’s breath sounds were guarded and shallow. When Nicky shifted the chest piece lower, he could only frown as he listened to the ragged pull of air through his lungs. He gently felt for the pulse at the boy’s carotid, finding it slightly elevated, the rhythm fluttery against his fingertips. The lymph nodes along the column of his throat were normal, though his skin still held a feverish heat.

Carefully, slowly, Nicky's hands skimmed over his narrow extremities, feeling each bone with featherlight pressure. There were no obvious fractures, no bruises or abrasions, but the joints were too prominent, the wrists too fragile. Despite the gentleness of his touch, Nicky still detected the flash of a grimace across the boy's face. He managed to free one of his small hands from the folds of the jacket. When applying pressure to the nail beds, he noted how the color drained and returned slowly—poor perfusion.

He reached for the penlight set out amongst his tools, clicking it on with his thumb.

The moment the beam touched the boy’s pupils, he jerked back with a sharp gasp—the first real reaction he’d shown since they’d taken him. His face screwed up, turning away from the light like it burned.

Joe caught him before he could retreat too far, one broad hand cradling the back of his head, the other bracing his cheek. "Shh, almost done." he murmured, his thumb stroking the curve of the boy’s temple.

Nicky worked quickly to check his pupillary response. The reaction to light was slow, but equally present. Finally, he brandished a thermometer. There was a quiet beep in the boy's ear before the digital readout confirmed what he already knew.

Low-grade fever. Dehydration. Aches. The beginnings of an infection simmering.

He began to clear away the unnecessary supplies back into his med kit, leaving out only what was needed for an IV. "He needs fluids," he said quietly. "And likely antibiotics."

Joe considered the information, his gaze trained down towards the boy. His palm lightly brushed over the crown of his shaved scalp, noting the angry red patches of irritation—a sort of allergic reaction to the electrodes' adhesive.

"He breathes like he's in pain."

The child weakly tried to turn his head from Joe's careful touch, his hands flinching at his sides.

"Tranquillo, piccolo. Fammi vedere questa mano, sì?" Nicky spoke gently to him as he settled his small arm across his knee. His fingers nimbly fastened an elastic band around his skinny bicep before he turned his palm upward. (Easy, little one. Let me see this hand, yes?) The Italian was deliberate. Not just for comfort, but as a boundary against memory. Nicky's voice and his words were nothing like the sterile English used in the lab. He knew that the boy wouldn't fully understand, but he hoped that the tone of what he said would still register. It felt important to create a distinction from the doctors he had known before, so he would eventually learn that his and Joe's hands would never seek to harm him.

Nicky knew that the severe dehydration would make finding a suitable vein more difficult, and the moving conditions of the van were not ideal for steady hands, but there was no choice. He took a moment to center himself, slipping into the focused calm he'd learned to hone over centuries. These were the same measured breaths he took when perched on a rooftop with his rifle. In moments where there was no room for error. He glanced upwards to Joe, silent understanding passed between them.

Joe's hand cupped over the boy's eyes, shielding his view from the needle.

A slight tremor ran through his small body as the needle pierced skin. There was the subtle feeling of resistance when the IV catheter met vein, then a small amount of blood filled the chamber, signalling success. The boy's breathing caught, but he didn't cry out. Nicky suspected that he was too weak to even whimper.

"Tutto fatto." He whispered, as much to himself as to the child. He taped the line in place, his thumb brushing the inside of his elbow in silent apology. (All done.)

Joe began fixing the jacket around the boy's body once more, assuring he was well covered. He sat back and watched as Nicky busied himself with hanging the bag of Ringer's solution on a makeshift hook. His husband made the necessary calculations in his head before drawing a syringe of pain medication, administering the dose directly through the IV bag's port.

Nicky's silence could often be more telling than any outburst. There was something unsettled in the calm way his eyes scanned over the child, a sort of anger kept well guarded under the water's surface. It could never be lost on Joe that the person lying across his lap was just as much of Nicky's flesh as of his own, and so this violation felt all the more heavier. What wounded Nicolò only wounded him doubly.

"He needs a name..." Joe whispered, the words raw. There hadn't been time to comb through all of the records Copley and Booker amassed before the raid, but that crucial piece of information was listed nowhere. The boy had a number, but no other title tied to him.

As the child fought against the pull of sleep, the message of what needed to be done was silently understood. What Joe was proposing was a tentative step towards trying, towards undoing, towards atonement. It was their attempt to stand between this child and a world that tried to exploit him.

It came together organically. A discussion they never once held before, but in that moment they found themselves inexplicably equipped with the answers.

"Ilyas." Nicky breathed, only loud enough to be heard between them.

Joe nodded as he exhaled, his thumb tracing over the boy’s cheekbone. The prophet Ilyas had remained ever faithful, was resurrected before bringing down fire from the sky. He was someone taken and then returned. Neither he or Nicky were particularly religious anymore, but symbols were perhaps their oldest shared tongue. This was a name that fit the person receiving it, and that fact alone brought a small modicum of comfort. What remained of life if our words and names no longer carried meaning?

"Ilyas Nicolò." Joe finished, his gaze still trained downward.

Nicky’s head tilted, just slightly, but his fingers curled around Joe’s wrist in agreement. No paperwork, no witnesses, just this: a claim, a promise sealed in the shuddering dark of an unmarked van.

#The Old Guard fanfiction #tog fanfic #yusuf al kaysani #yusuf x nicolo #nicolo di genova #the old guard #immortal husbands #Joe & Nicky #joe x nicky #joenicky #joe and nicky

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papiliomame · 1 year ago

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Road to 3D- Sam Manson (Part 2):

Character Modeling

Part 1: Model Sheet

Welcome to the second and final part of this project. Since people have asked how I do my models, I decided to make a write-up on how I approach these things using the example of a model of Sam Manson. The first part focused on how I make a model sheet fo a 3d model the second part focus just on the modeling. There are many more things about how to create a fully realized 3d character that I could make whole other chapters for, like UV unwrapping, texturing, shading and rigging, but I don't have enough knowledge past the fundamentals on these topics that could warrant their own seperate posts.

Additional stuff before I continue:

I use Blender for all my model

This not a beginners guide or something similar, it would be helpful to already know the general workflow of a modeling, how to use Blender and know different terminology like edgeflow, retopology etc.

If you are a beginner and want to learn more about character modeling I recommend the videoseries "Modeling for Animation" by Dikko on Youtube

Maybe I make some reference some tricks from this videoseries

That's it, let's go!

My first step is always the block-out phase. The block-out phase is what the construction lines and the first sketch in a drawing are. I align the frontview and sideview from the model sheet I made in part 1 with the z-axis (the blue line in the images above) and roughly shape out the forms with primitive forms. For this I mostly use a cube with a subdivide modifier.

Having a modelsheet without the clothes obscuring the body makes it much easier the get the form right. The block-out phase is one of the most important steps, if it looks good than I have practically half the work done. This is also a good opportunity to practice anatomy.

After this stage I continue with the head. First of all, don't forget to add the mirror modifier so I just need to model half of the model. There are different methods to approach modeling the head, like sculpt the head first, retopologize and than bake all the deatails onto the retopologized head. I actually prefer to polymodel the head especially when I have a good model sheet. I practially trace the lineart from the model sheet by extruding vertices, once from the frontview and once from the sideview. The most important points are the form of the eyes, the mouth, the form of the face and the jawline. The head block-out is used as an anchor point for the shrinkwrap modifier so that the traced forms actually look like they belong to a 3d form and not 2d lines floating space. From this point on it's just connecting everything, pull and push vertices so it looks like a 3d head and make sure the edgeflow is good. (It's also helpful to know how the planes of the head look like) After that I add the eyelashes, eyebrow, eyes and the ears, now it looks like something!

Now comes the hair. For the hair I used the "curve trick" like mentioned in the video series I recommended. Here is a tip to save time: I choose some edges from the head, duplicate and seperate it from the mesh. I convert this seperated line into a curve and choose a beziercircle as a bevel geometry. This is now the perfect foundation to model the hair further. One thing I needed a long time to notice: To get the beziercircle to a perfect square or in this case a triangle lower the Resolution U to 1 in the shape options. Now I just convert the curves into a mesh and add details and the head is done!

With the head finished I continue with the body. Remember how I wrote with a good block-out half of the work ist finished? Well, for this step I practically just use the smooth brush in sculpt mode and smooth everything out so everything looks connected. Then I retopologize the body and that's it. Well, ok there is a little bit more to it: Before smoothing things out I join the block-out part to a single mesh and remesh it with the remash modifier expept for the hands. I prefer to polymodel the hands seperatly without worrying about the rest of the body because they are difficult to model. I reattach them later. Speaking of reattaching, I make sure that the connection points have the same number of vertices while I retopologize/polymodel. To ensure that, I often use the following trick visualized with a simple example ( which is also described in the video series):

I want to reduce the amount of edges at the bottom of this plane, for this I merge 3 vertices from the middle into 1 vertice seen in the left image. After that I can select the blue marked edges from the center image and dissolve them. The result, which you can see on the right, is a nice clean edgeflow with a reduction in the number of edges.

After modeling every part I attach them together and I have a finished bodymesh the work with.

Now onto the clothes, for this I use the model sheet with clothes as reference. Having a retopologized body makes it easier to model simple stuff like e.g. Sam's shirt. On the left image the marked faces of the the bodymesh already looks like a shirt. I just need to duplicate and seperate this area, clean it up a little and the shirt is basically finished. The more complex stuff like the boots I need to polymodel around the bodymesh.

With that the modeling part is done! Now comes the things I said above: uv unwrapping, texture painting, rigging and shading. These are whole other topics I cannot go deeper because I'm still learning how to do these things but I hope my little write-up about how I appoach character modeling was enough to learn one thing or two.

Thank you for your time and thank for reading!

#3d modeling process #3d model #blender #danny phantom #sam manson #long post #my animation #my art #art resources

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sidecast-text · 3 months ago

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hey your tags abt project hail mary on that one post were fascinating can you pleeaseeee elaborate :3. the white saviorism & consent ones…. that book took my brain over for a month and im still in its clutches every now and then

HI HELLO YES OF COURSE

(disclaimer: i just love sci fi and literature and took a sociology module this year i am Not a media scholar this is just my personal analysis of this book)

Project Hail Mary was a really intriguing read for me because I went into it somewhat cynically, you know? I really like Andy Weir's writing, but from the moment it became apparent that this is another book in first person about a guy stuck alone in space I was fully expecting for the style and tone to match the Martian. After finishing it, I think he clearly managed to separate Mark Watney from Ryland Grace, mostly by their general attitudes but also with the situations they are getting put in. Watney is an astronaut, he knows what he is doing, and he has (sort of) been trained for the crisis he is in. Grace has no idea who is or why he is in the Tau Ceti system and this memory loss trope is exploited audience for loop after loop.

Spoilers under the readmore because honestly going in blindly is the best way to read Project Hail Mary in my opinion GO READ IT GO NOW

So. We figure out who Grace is, why he is 12 light years away from Earth, what he has to do: he has to save Earth from a major extinction event by sacrificing his own life. The rest of his crew died while they were in comas for the voyage, so the entire fate of humanity is resting exclusively on his shoulders. This is where I kind of heaved a sigh. At least it's not a twelve year old saving the world, but it is a white American man. This plays into the white saviour trope stemming from colonialism in the 15th-16th century, wherein concepts such as humanity and civilisation are values inherently tied to whiteness, exclusively possessed by white societies and must be spread to "uncivilised" areas through colonialism. Overall its an ethno- and eurocentric way of thinking that views the image of the white man as cleaner, better, more educated, et ceatera. This bias remains present in Western society and therefore in our media as well, in the form of the aforementioned white saviour trope, which I had expected Project Hail Mary to unintentionally cater to.

In the case of Project Hail Mary, Grace must be the saviour of humanity by journeying through space. The book makes references to Arthur C. Clarke's 2001: A Space Odyssey, and you can see the general similarity in the premise of both stories: men are sent on a voyage further into space than ever before with varying certainties of return. While the men abroad the USSC Discovery know they will be placed into cyro-freeze and retrieved by another mission in the vague future, the crew of the Hail Mary have no such hopes. They are sent out into space at nearly light-speed with no fuel for a return trip. Hail Mary plays with the trope of the traveler changed by his journey by making return both figuratively and physically impossible for Grace. As readers, we assume he was aware of this when setting out.

The audience also assumes that Grace is on the Hail Mary mission because he volunteered. He is set up as feeling great responsibility for his students and the children of the world, so although we are not shown for a long time why he decided to volunteer for the Hail Mary, we assume that at some point he must have, since we are tied to his first person perspective and he assumes the same. We keep on waiting for some sort of eureka moment in his flashbacks when he realises what he must do and with newfound conviction pledges his life to save humanity. We find out that he was not the first choice for the mission's science specialist; he wasn't even the second. The book introduces Shapiro and Du Bois, and as the audience we know that they will either die before the launch or be incapacitated in such a way that Grace is forced to step up. Again, I was rolling my eyes here. Somehow, Grace had to be switched into Du Bois's place, changing the intended protagonist from a black man to a white one, and I thought somewhat begrudgingly that if the author acknowledges that it could have been Du Bois who saves Earth, then why not just write it as so? After all, all the accidents and consequences through the story are conscious choices by the author. Why does it need to be the white man who bravely steps up and declares that he will sacrifice his life? I felt that there were biases in the writing and in the choice to portray the white man as the brave, lonely hero who will die for the greater good in the far depths of space, alone, afraid, and without complaint.

The actual reveal of the circumstances that landed Grace on the Hail Mary is expertly teased and foreshadowed. We see from the start that Ryland Grace isn't a particularly courageous man. He leaves his academic field after his paper is badly received, he surrounds himself with students who are easy to impress and who idolise him, he doesn't seek out relationships or even friendships because he fears rejection. He throws up in zero g, is not used to space travel, he's queasy around the idea of self administered death and generally lacks the brave enthusiasm and commitment that other astronauts in his flashbacks are shown to have.

So when we find out that Grace is actually a sort of coward, it all falls into place. Stratt gives him the option of joining the Hail Mary mission after Shapiro and Du Bois die, and Grace presents an obviously weak excuse and it's painful to read because the eureka moment we were waiting for never comes. I was personally thinking "wait a second, this isn't how it's supposed to go". But it also makes sense, after all, Stratt is asking him to go die in space and he's a high school teacher.

Stratt is also set up as someone who always gets what she wants. She is legally exempt from any consequences; she could kill a man and she would be pardoned since pulling together the project that will save Earth is her responsibility. She is ruthless, but as a readers we think that Grace is safe from her decree; he's her right hand, and furthermore Captain Yao is adamant that no one be forced to join the mission. If Grace decides to go, it must be on his own. Up until the last moment, we expect Grace to experience sudden onset character growth, to stop when he reaches for the door-handle and to overcome his cowardice and to say "yes, I will go, I will die for Earth".

And it doesn't happen. At this point I was texting all my friends "i am gouing to throw up". It is revealed that Grace was only given the illusion of a choice. In hindsight, it makes sense; he was given no choice about joining the project to begin with or at any step in the process. Stratt was hoping that he would choose to join, but when he refuses it the carpet is immediately pulled from under his feet and it becomes apparent that he has had no agency at all since meeting her. He has been set up and manipulated to be the second backup for the role of the science specialist on board of the Hail Mary by being placed with Shapiro and Du Bois and learning to use space equipment under the guise of testing it. He was kept close to Stratt, so he would always be at hand. Even more terrifying, Stratt has a way to work around Yao's demands. She has Grace drugged so he forgets that he is on board involuntarily and he is heavily sedated until launch.

This is what I meant by saying that Grace's autonomy is entirely taken away. Thorough the entire book, he is dragged and ordered around by Stratt's men, and now he is drugged and forced into a coma. His violation goes to the extreme; not only is he not allowed to say no, he is also not allowed to Remember wanting to say no.

Overall, Grace is a really interesting character to me. He is faced with a situation where only he can do what must be done and instead of rising up to the challenge he pleads and begs for someone else to be chosen. The book completely and satisfyingly flips the white saviour trope on its head. The protagonist is so against the idea of self-sacrifice that he threatens to doom Earth by self-sabotage if he is sent into space. Grace is not a bad person, but he has accepted that other people will take care of the crisis, that other people must die and that is the way things must be. It reminds me of Omelas; it is impossible to walk away, so how do we each accept the world that we live in? Grace accepts that three people must be sent to die in space in order for the rest of the Earth to have a chance of survival, but he thinks of that sacrifice as something that unquestionably happens to others. This echoes the contemporary state of affairs more closely; Western society is upkept by Eastern and Southern labour. We are aware of this, but still benefit from it.

Ultimately, Grace rises to his task and manages to save humanity. He could even return to Earth, but he doesn't. That's the part I think about the most. The journey changes and improves Grace, to the point where he does choose to sacrifice himself in order to save Rocky and Erid. We can ask what happened to make him more willing to save an alien world than he was to save his own. He does have a real choice, he could return to Earth and experience no consequences for leaving Rocky behind. I think the reason is that Grace has changed, yes, but Earth has changes as well in his eyes. Earth violated him, and in way exiled him, ruling through the figure of Stratt that his life was expendable.

First I thought the ending was cheap, but I've been thinking about it for days and I am coming around. It's just!!! I haven't formed concrete thoughts about it but God. God Fuck UGH. It's been 26 years on Earth. His students are grown and up his knowledge is probably archaic by now. His use for humanity has been expended. I am in pain. Would you crawl back home if the value of your life had been dismissed. Would Odysseus go home if he knew no one was waiting for him. I'm going to be sick.

#wow. 1800 words #as you can tell i have a lot of feelings about this and about sci fi in general #project hail mary #project hail mary spoilers #media analysis #nick reads #nick writes #asks

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silent-sanctum · 1 year ago

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I hope you're doing fine mijin🤩💗....

Can I request a fic where the stone ocean group survives and jotaro meets his wife(the reader) or ex wife that's upto you

Aha! A 2-for-1 special! Also, hiya @jotarosimpforever and to you too anon 👋 I'm doing fine thank you! Sorry it took this long to answer your requests, I'm currently on vacation so I was busy doing stuff 🫡 But here it is! A post-Stone Ocean fic featuring domestic times with our favorite DILF 6taro 😘 Hope you enjoy ♡

Way Home - Part 6! Jotaro x Reader

word count: 3.3k

“Breaking news: The recent events people termed as the “Shifting Skies Phenomenon” comes to an abrupt halt, resulting in mass casualty midst the confusion of countless civilians worldwide”

The scene was in complete chaos just the way it was for the past few hours. Where it was due to destruction as the heavens changed hues, from burning autumn to midnight void and back in a blink of the eye, now everything and everyone were in complete loss of control, emergency respondents dispatched to numerous vehicular accidents and spontaneous locations with crowds sporting spontaneous injuries.

Where others wouldn’t know what else to brand this phenomenon but “otherworldly”, you knew it as a catastrophic Stand attack.

And you’d come to know these information because of none other than your own husband- A solitary individual who opted to keep his responsibilities a secret from the people he loved, to sacrifice his happiness and suffer a life of “kill-or-be-killed” if it meant giving his family the normal life he could never have.

If it weren’t for circumstances that got yourself involved in one of these Stand encounters, you wouldn’t find yourself falling into the rabbit hole that was learning the nature of Stands, and eventually taking up a managerial role in an exclusive private organization as one of their agents. If it weren’t for that eventful day, you wouldn’t be able to meet Jotaro.

That stoic, abrasive, yet loving man…

Images of him smiling at you with fondness glazing his sharp blue eyes flashed in your mind as you imagined the same man charging head first into the battlefield to save and protect his and your only daughter from this grand scale threat.

And with the sky and the Earth’s gravity returning back to its usual state, you should be relieved knowing the enemy was defeated.

But without being there to witness how it ended, you gave into overthinking, imagining the repercussions that were dealt to achieve the cost of such victory.

As if snapping back to reality, you found yourself running through a plethora of bustling Speedwagon Foundation employees, almost crazed and frantic. The organization was just as rushed and busy as the rest of the world was with one half of the Foundation attempting to get shit under control by getting in-contact with non-government networks for aid and support, and the other half accommodating injured civilians to help reduce the local hospitals from overcrowding.

And just as what’s written in paper, you’ve received information that a chopper had just arrived with 2 members of the Joestar family onboard, injured from a fatal fight. You wasted not even a split second to bolt from the safety of your room and here in the private foundation’s building.

You rounded a corner, pushing past a couple more of people until you were met with a signage that read “Medical Wing”. You’ve studied the place’s layout enough times since Jotaro first brought you here during your orientation. While the place crowded with panicked and wounded civilians, you knew that the Foundation had exclusive areas and services reserved for the convenience of the Joestar bloodline.

Frustrated, you were desperate enough to seek the first nurse you could see and ask where her family was, but you’d find out that wouldn’t happen. Your hurried steps led you to the emergency room and instead of a random nurse, your attention landed on a teenage girl with messy space buns and torn clothing sitting on one of the benches lining the hallway leading to the operating room.

With one arm in a cast and her waist bandaged, the young girl had her free hand curled into a fist, head bowed as she struggled to hold back her sobs.

At the sight of her, your eyes welled up with tears. “Jolyne…”

In an instant, she jerked her head upright at the sound of her name. It took her a couple of seconds before she saw you standing a few feet away from her. Like mother and daughter, Jolyne’s face crumpled into one of sadness, the tears that she held back now rolling down her cheeks. “Eomma-”

You crossed whatever distance was between you and your child and brought her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she started. “I’m really sorry mom.”

With ease, you withdrew enough for you to do another quick scan over her body. “Are you hurt bad?” You grasped her shoulders with a hand, the other reaching up to cup her wet cheeks. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Your questions only sent Jolyne into another sob, breaking into tears the second you showed your extreme concerns. “I-I’m fine, but appa-”

You paused. “What… What happened to him?”

“He protected me, my friends, b-but…” She furiously swiped at her eyes despite her sobs. “He’s injured the most. He was bleeding everywhere and now-”

You kept yourself as calm as possible, even if you were on the brink of collapsing yourself. “Where is he?” Jolyne pointed to the double doors leading to the operating room.

Your heart caved in at the thought of your husband laying unconscious being worked on by surgeons and nurses to preserve his life. With a heavy and shaky sigh, you nodded as you willed yourself to not cry in front of your daughter.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do better,” Jolyne cried. “I’m sorry for letting that stupid accident with that asshole happen that led to dad going through all this bullshit for me-”

You quieted her as you pulled her into another hug, softly caressing her head. “It’s not your fault, pearl,” you said with a whisper. She continued to sob as she buried her face on your shoulder. “Your father knows that too.”

Gently, you led your daughter to one of the benches and sat her down with you beside her. Considering you’d thought the worst before arriving at the Foundation, you looked at the closed double doors with a newfound sense of reassurance. Another sigh.

“Let’s just wait and hope for the best.”

---

The consistent beeping of his vitals echoed throughout the dimmed room and you were left alone with Jotaro, still unconscious with half of his face heavily bandaged together with his throat, an oxygen mask fit on his nose and mouth.

Jolyne visited minutes earlier and told you that she’d be checking with how her other friends were doing.

An hour ago, you and Jolyne stood up immediately as soon as the surgeon stepped through the swinging doors. To everyone’s relief, they managed to stabilize him from his critical state.

According to him, your husband had a pre-existing heart condition that caused his pulse rate to beat at irregular, rapid intervals. Combined with the knowledge of him having to exert excessive strength despite waking up from a comatose state and the heavy amount of stress piling up the past few months, his body had chosen to shut down the second his adrenaline depleted.

Thinking about that again made you scoff through your tears. “You were always an impulsive idiot…” Saying those words caused your eyes to swell again and sniffle.

But what’s done was done. The doctors did what they could and all you can do was to sit beside him, holding his hand with both of yours, praying that he’d recover faster, enough for him to wake up and calm your worrying heart.

Without realizing, you ended up falling asleep still sat on your chair by his bed. You didn’t know how long time has passed in your slumber and you couldn’t be bothered to find out. All that mattered right now was staying by your husband’s side, letting him know, in spirit perhaps, that he wasn’t alone and that you were with him now.

In a way you couldn’t perceive, you somehow felt like he was comforting you as well. A comforting chill would brush against your cheeks, hair, shoulders, or hands and you welcomed the sensation like an old friend.

Eventually, time would pass from mere hours to days and throughout it all, you continued to stay where you were- always making sure to watch over him with persisting hope.

Today marked the 15th day since his admission in the Foundation’s infirmary ward. His fresh bandages still wrapped around the half of his face and throat. His assistive oxygenation was removed the week prior once his vitals stabilized within normal range.

By now, you stayed so much in the medical room that your responsibilities started to catch up as evident with the numerous phone calls and text messages alerting you from your pocket. You figured you’d answer a few and explain the circumstances surrounding you and your family.

That time, you stood by the window hoping to receive better signal. You were in the middle of arguing with a non-compliant employee that worked under your supervision, and through their whining in the speaker, you picked up the sheets shifting behind you.

On that cue, you turned around with supposed foolish hope but in clear daylight, there he was- stirring into consciousness, brows furrowing and scrunching as his eye slowly opened.

You never hung up on someone this fast before but you dropped whatever conversation you had and rushed over to Jotaro’s side, immediately reaching to grasp his hand. It took him a bit to adjust to the natural light, but he lolled his head to you and locked eye contact with you.

You exhaled a shaky breath. “Jotaro-ssi?” With a weak baritone voice, he croaked back your name with instant familiarity. Your eyes welled with new tears. Right then and there, he grunted as he struggled to prop himself upright. “W-What are you doing? You just woke up. You’re supposed to rest!”

At this point, you didn’t realize you started crying when you light-heartedly scolded him. You gripped his hand tight with frustration and relief, teardrops spilling onto your skin. He’s awake. Thank god he’s awake. “Do you know how much of an idiot you are?! I told you you shouldn’t jump into dangerous situations so recklessly! And now look at you! You should be taking your time and recover lying down and here you are forcing yourself to sit! You really are an idiot-”

“I missed you.”

Your heart skipped a beat and whatever ramble you had left trailed off into the thin air. Jotaro sat there patiently, watching you wistfully with hooded eyes. In your hand, he turned his palm upwards and interlocked his fingers with yours. He had that usual air of stoicism in his expression, but there was no mistaking the wet sheen glossing over his aquamarine eyes.

That was all it took for you to break into a sob as you gently wrapped your arms around him in a soft embrace. You felt him tuck his face against the crook of your neck, his tears pooling on your skin in silence. “Next time, tell me at least. Alright?”

“Mm…”

“Don’t scare me like that again, you hear?”

“I’m sorry…”

“You ass.”

---

It’s been 6 months since then and after the chaos had settled across the nation, the Kujos returned to their seaside villa, settling in for the time being to adjust to the new life after the time phenomenon.

Slowly but surely, every member of the family began to live their lives the way they wanted to- Jolyne would often leave the house to hang out with her best friend Ermes and potential boyfriend Anasui, one day bringing home a kid in baseball uniform named Emporio waiting to be adopted into the family, you returned to work to help the other agents in the Foundation, and Jotaro begun to resume teaching in university, choosing to take a break from field research to give him time to rest.

And considering the stress of the whole Stand ordeal they had dealt with since they were 17, you could get used to a mundane life like this.

The early morning sun beamed a warm orange, filtered through the curtains before it could touch both you and your husband. You opened your eyes to find yourself side-lying on his arm to face a still-sleeping Jotaro, tucked bare-chested underneath the sheets with his face mushed against the pillows

You huffed and snuggled closer, nuzzling to bury your nose on the crook of his neck. With a feather-light touch, you raised an index finger to gingerly trace the faded scar across his throat, the shallow dents across his collarbone, the scar on his left shoulder, and the one on his abdomen. One-by-one, you took the time to feel the skin of each in contrast to the rest. “You’ve been through so much…”

He stirred possibly from your tiny motions and soon enough, the arm you lied on curled in to pull you into his hold.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you looked up to see your husband glance at you with sleep-ridden eyes. You propped yourself on his chest and with your chin planted on your overlapped hands flat on his pecs, you whispered out a simple, intentionally-cute “Good morning~”

Jotaro smiled back. “Morning.”

“Break day?”

He nodded.

Life never felt so ordinary after what had happened but you could get used to this. Where every moment in this new era, they could live out the rest of their lives as a normal couple with a normal family.

And what’s a better way to start their new lives but with the domesticity of a newlywed pair.

Both you and Jotaro started the day accomplishing your morning routines- you in the bathroom washing up, he on the balcony to simply soak in the early morning sun. You made your way to the dining area where he stood by waiting for you with two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. You took one, returned the favor with a chaste peck on his cheek, and went over to cook breakfast for the family.

On cue with the smell of bacon and eggs permeating throughout the house, two pairs of footsteps bounded down the stairs and barged into the area.

“Well good morning to you too Jolyne,” you glanced at her companion with a smile. “Emporio.”

“Going out again?” Jotaro said, glancing at the duo. “This early?”

“Ermes is gonna go shopping for the new line of clothes that got released yesterday. She invited me and Emporio over saying it’s going to be ‘her treat’, but I know she’s lying,” Jolyne said, picking up a toast from her plate and another to offer her adopted brother.

“Is that pink-haired guy going?”

“His name’s Anasui dad and no, he’s not going,” she puffed her chest. “It’s girl’s day out today.” You and Jotaro looked at the blond boy beside her. “He’s not tagging along. I’m just dropping off Emporio at the nearby bookstore on the way out.”

“And I can find my way back no problem,” Emporio said as the teenager slowly pulled him with her to the door. “I won’t take too long.”

Jotaro still had his doubts from where he was on his seat, but knowing your little girl was able to survive a life of imprisonment and was able to get around the harsh facility, you smiled at her. “Alright. Be back by 9!”

“I will!”

Once the duo were out of sight, you and Jotaro were left alone to themselves. “Nothing like seeing your kids all grown up, huh?” You said as you took a bite of your eggs. He hummed a sound of acknowledgment. “But that just means we have the day to ourselves.”

At that, your husband couldn’t help but smile.

And just as you said, the rest of today consisted of simply staying indoors and “hanging-out” with each other in a life of old-couple domesticity. You cooked the meals and he washed the dishes. You did the laundry and he helped in folding them. You dusted the shelves and he vacuumed the floors. You picked today’s playlist to listen while doing chores and he chose what movie to watch.

Then there were instances in-between chores where either of you can’t help but hover close to one another, seeking each other’s touch and affections. May it be when you’re cooking and Jotaro passes by stealing a piece of sliced vegetable, you sneaking behind to pat his ass when he’s drying the plates, him momentarily resting his chin on your head as you wait for the washing machine to finish, him offering you a glass of water in the middle of dusting, or ending up in a never-ending banter over genres of media.

By the time they finished everything, including the short time freshening up, the afternoon began its transition to night as the skies changed its hue from blue to orange.

You shared one look with your husband and with one wistful stare, he rose a hand to you and you held it. With no worries plaguing your mind, you and Jotaro slowly walked down the stairs to the coast, hand-in-hand. A gentle breeze blew a strand of hair across your face and before you could, he tucked it behind your ear.

Both of you walked across the sand until you stopped a few meters away from the gentle waves.

Jotaro took the initiative to break apart from you, only to step behind and engulf your body with his long coat with his hands still in its pockets. You smiled and leaned back against his chest, closing your eyes as you do so.

For a few minutes, the couple simply stood by, basking in the ambiance- the refreshing sea breeze against your skin, the soothing crash of waves, the birds chirping above. The sea was your comfort place after all, and it was his too. Despite it being months later, you cherished every calm walk such as this as if it was the last.

You’ve never felt at peace this much. It was so nice.

“23 years…” You glanced up at Jotaro when he spoke. “For 23 years of us knowing each other, finally… Finally we can just live like this.”

You chuckled. “Makes it seem like we’ve just been married and this is our honeymoon even though it’s been years.”

“We’ve been fighting the world for most of our lives. Is it strange that until now, I’m still not used to this kind of ‘quiet’? As if I’m cautious that someone could appear at any moment?”

You shook your head, your gaze drifting to the horizon as you thought of your next words. “It’s not. It’ll take some time for us to adjust to this new normal. For all our habitual anxiety to disappear. Hell, it might not go away entirely.”

“But I can assure you this-”

You stepped out of his coat and turned to face him. From this angle, you looked at Jotaro with a smile bearing all the gooey fondness you had in your heart. Gingerly, you rose a hand to his face and with tender care, traced the vertical scar lining the right side of his face. From the top of his brow, down to his blind eye, until your fingers stopped at the bold line of his jaw.

Only then, your hand returned to cup his cheek with your thumb stroking the smooth line of his scar. “Whatever may happens next, I’ll be there with you. Work, people, lingering Stand users… I’ll stay by your side, hm?”

With hooded eyes, Jotaro leaned against your palm and laid his hand over yours. “I can’t say much to change your mind anyways.” He huffed. “You were always so stubborn.”

You chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”

Getting on to your tiptoes, you planted a soft kiss over his cheek, nose, and his lips last, to which you lingered on for a second longer. Pulling away, you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face on his chest.

“Our lives are finally ours, starlight.”

You closed your eyes as you felt him tuck his chin on top of you, an arm wrapping around your waist, and a hand caressing the back of your head.

“Then let’s live them together, sunshine.”

#jotaro x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jotaro kujo #god i love writing domestic couple life like yes #give me that wholesome stuff me

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navstuffs · 2 years ago

Text

Heart to-go

Pairing: RE2Barista!Leon x GN!Reader

Summary: You hate coffee. Of course with your luck, you end up falling in love with a cute blushing barista.

Warnings: COFFEE SHOP AU, SUPER FLUFF, blushing leon, tooth-rotting fanfic, reader DOES NOT like coffee (i could never), reader/leon are clueless and shy, sabrina and gabriel are names used in this fic, image taken from google

Author's Notes: hey, im back (sorta?kinda?). i had this fanfic saved for a while and since i haven't been able to produce new material, i decided to edit and post some of my old drafts. i plan on posting the other coffee shop au - nsfw version, but from now i hope you enjoy reading this one!

If someone told you before that you would visit a coffee shop and actually order the same cup of coffee every day, you would laugh at their faces. You don't like coffee, period. There is something about the smell or taste you just don't like it. Warm, cold, sweet, unsweet, with chocolate, you tried it all. It just isn't your thing, which made some people look at you as an E.T. sometimes, but hey, to each its own, right?

Your co-worker Sabrina is the one who invites you out to a popular coffee shop nearby your work. Before you even attempt to say no, Sabrina explains that yes, there were other drink options and some delicious pastries, like "some of the best brownies" she had eaten her entire life.

So you agree, with the promise you wouldn't regret it.

There is no line when you enter, around 5 pm. You pass this coffee shop often going to work, the smell strong in your nose if the door is open. You never entered, of course, but now inside, you must admit it looked cozy. A lot of natural light comes from the big windows in the front, illuminating the entire space. There are tables and chairs, at this time empty, compared to how full and hectic they could get in the morning.

As Sabrina orders her long order, your eyes wander the menu, written behind the counter on a giant blackboard. They had other options, as Sabrina explained before, such as handmade Italian sodas and some juices. When Sabrina is done, you turn your attention to the very attractive cashier. The kind you see on the cover of magazines, like a model or something. And cute. He has innocent blue eyes, a soft face, and blonde hair under the black cap. Your eyes glimpse at his name tag, "Leon," as he waits for your order.

"What do you want?"

And the words come out of your mouth before you can even think, something you would never have ordered in a million years.

"A coffee?"

You can feel Sabrina's neck twist, shocked. You ignore her, ignore how your voice went two higher tones than it should, focused on Leon, who continues smiling, patiently waiting for the rest.

"Sure, which one?"

"Coffee?" Your eyes roam around the many, many names and sizes as if you know what all those names mean, and you decide to risk it all. "How about your favorite order?"

Leon's eyes widen briefly before a faint red tone rises to his cheeks. He chuckles, surprised, before placing the order on the computer.

"Right, okay then, my favorite order. Anything else?"

"Nothing, that will be it."

You pay your bill without looking up. Sabrina looks semi-concerned and amused when you are done ordering, a strange smile on her face.

"Are you okay?"

"I panicked," You whisper, hoping Leon can't hear the panic in your voice as you pull her to a table before she can start asking more questions.

You sit to wait for your order, and you notice Leon and another young blonde lady behind the counter. He seems to be blushing about something she says, and you wonder if that wasn't the most adorable thing you've ever seen.

"You are staring," Sabrina warns, her voice denoting humor. Why does it sound like Sabrina is having fun with your misery? You look out the window to the traffic slowing down since it is the end of the afternoon. When your order finally arrives, you turn excited, expecting to see Leon but being greeted by Ashley's happy face.

"Enjoy!" Ashley exclaims before leaving. You grab your small cup of warm coffee with a top layer of foam on it. It smells like cinnamon and vanilla. You really, really don't want to drink it.

"Careful now, Leon is watching," Sabrina teases, making you turn to look for Leon. He is indeed staring at you, his blue eyes filled with expectation. When he catches you looking, he turns his face away, a deep blush on his cheeks, too focused on cleaning something behind him.

"I can do this." You tell yourself, taking a sip from the cup. Yeap, still bad. Still bad as the first time you tried it. You drink another small sip because Leon could still be watching before placing the cup on the table. "I don't think I can do this." You confess in a whisper to Sabrina, who doesn't answer. She giggles, drinking her coffee as water. She saves you the dignity to not tease you anymore, at least.

Noticing she wouldn't be any help, you take small sips while listening to Sabrina's news. It was easier to drink while she talked so that you could ignore the sour taste in your mouth.

When your cup is finally empty, you sigh in relief. You have done it. You are NOT disappointing any cute blushy barista today. Leon appears at the side of the table, eyes filled with expectation.

"How was it?"

"It was so good. My friend over here loved it, right? Right?" Sabrina smiles happily in your direction. You want to strangle her, but you nod, smirking instead.

"Perfect, Leon. Thank you."

Leon's eyes lock on you, and you stare back, starstruck. No one should be allowed to be this charming. His smile lights up his entire face, making him look even more special. The type you could fall in love with if you aren't careful enough.

"I will get those for you, then," He cleans the table, then leaves, nodding in your direction. When he is out of a safe distance, Sabrina sings low.

"I think he likes you!"

"Shut up, Sabrina!"

-x-

After that, you start to visit the coffee. Daily. You get to meet the rest of the employees: Luis, a handsome man with a captivating smile who constantly flirts with you. You already know Ashley, a young college student who is always excited to see you. And well, there is Leon. It is odd how you click so fast with Luis and Ashley; you could joke with them as much as you wanted, but things worked a little differently when it came to Leon. He made you nervous.

He always welcomes you with a warm smile and treats you with respect. You tried to tease Leon once, but it died in your throat when you watched his expression. He just looked so innocent, you just didn't want him to dislike something you did or said. What if he misinterpreted?

You also continue ordering the same coffee. Your newfound trick to not throw it away? Take it to work and give it to Sabrina. You know you are wasting money, but Leon's smile is worth every cent, especially when you place the money on the counter for "Leon's order". Like one morning, two weeks after your first visit, you enter the shop, and it is Luis at the register.

"Hello, pretty thing. Same order?" Luis asks, winking.

"You know me, Luis, I am loyal."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Luis sighs, pretending to be disappointed. Ashley waves in your direction when she sees you, asking. "Let me guess, another Leon's order to go?"

"You know, it is my dream. One of those days, you will enter those doors and ask 'Can I get Luis's order or maybe Ashley's?" Luis teases, "No, it must always be Leon's order. I have started to wonder why."

"I like his coffee," You whisper in your defense. Luis smiles, knowing exactly what you like. He points to Leon's back, too focused on a coffee maker. "Your boyfriend is waiting."

You show off your tongue, rolling your eyes and going toward Leon. He guides a cup of steaming milk into a to-go cup, almost as if he is drawing. You don't say anything, watching his concentrated face as he finishes. Every inch of his attention to whatever he is drawing. When Leon is done, he turns toward you, opening a smile.

"H-hey. Here it is."

He puts the to-go cup in front of you, uncovered. You find it weird but don't discuss it.

"Morning. Thank you. My favorite, as always." You grab a lid nearby, closing it. Leon seems disappointed but doesn't say anything. You quickly take a sip, holding back a scowl. "Perfect as always, Leon. Thank you. I don't even know where I would be without Leon's every morning... Leon's order, I mean!"

The frown is gone, and Leon smiles timidly, blushing. Of course, you must embarrass yourself in front of him, but honestly, you don't mind. Your mornings always got much better after seeing his smile. You leave the coffee, waving bye to Ashley and Luis. When you are gone, Ashley and Luis surround Leon, too curious.

"Did they see it this time?" Luis wonders.

"No."

"Such a nice person, but so clueless," Ashley sighs, holding her chin. "Maybe you should just try writing your phone number on the cup, it would be more direct."

"Or maybe they don't like me that much..." Leon declares, making his co-workers groan.

"Not this again, Leon."

-x-

Three weeks pass like that. You go in, say hi to Ashley and Luis, get your coffee with Leon, smile at each other, and leave for work. There is some teasing here and there from Ashley and Luis, you tease back, and that is it. You wonder if you should get a different order, but Sabrina seems happy enough with the coffee, you are happy enough to see Leon, so it works.

The next morning, you enter the café to find Ashley organizing a casket of brownies. After greeting each other, you grab one from the basket. So those were the limited edition brownies Sabrina always talked about.

"Hey, Ashley, are those the famous delicious brownies?"

"Yeah. Made by an extraordinary chef, but I can't reveal his identity. It is top secret."

"Can I get one? And also a Le-"

"Leon's order? Yes, yes, I know," She groans, sounding tired. Leon appears from the back office, opening his usual smile when he sees you. You like to think it is your special smile, but it is probably how he smiles at every single client.

"Hey."

"Morning, Leon."

He starts preparing your drink the way he always does. You wonder if Leon is bored or if he can even make it with his eyes closed. Maybe you should ask him if his favorite order has even changed next time? As you watch Leon work, you give a big bite to the brownie. It is delicious. The perfect balance between chocolate and sweetness.

"Ashley, those are so freaking good!" You exclaim, bringing her attention back to you.

"Oh really? Our chef will love to hear that!" Ashley says with a suggestive tone, giving a quick side look to Leon. You finish the brownie in a few bites as Leon puts your cup on the counter, his cheeks painted red. Again your cup is uncovered. You grab the lid and close it. It has become a ritual by now.

"Thanks again, Leon."

When you look up at him, Leon has a different expression in his eyes. He blushes, no more than he usually does, his hand raised. Before you can ask what is wrong, he places his hand over yours on the cup lid. His hand is warm, probably normal for someone working with hot drinks all the time. You don't say anything, waiting. Leon seems to be waiting as well, for you to say anything. Neither of you does, and the moment is broken when the door opens, a huge group of women coming in.

"Sorry, I don't know—"

"Bye!" You rush out of those doors, not looking back.

Well, that was certainly odd, you think. Leon has never touched you before. It seems that he wanted to tell you something, but at the same time, he was waiting for you to say something? When you get to work ten minutes later, the cup still warm in your hands, you search for Sabrina, not finding her. Gabriel, your other co-worker, explains she is sick.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Nasty flu."

"Oh, okay. I will message her later then."

You look at the cup in your hands to her empty table before asking Gabriel.

"Hey, do you want some coffee?"

"Free? Don't mind if I do! What has on it?"

"I guess coffee, milk, cinnamon? I don't really know."

"You don't know?" Gabriel asks, grabbing the cup from you. "You don't know what is in your cup? Here, let me smell it, I have an excellent sense of smell." He opens the lid to smell it and exclaims, "Awn, this is cute."

"What?"

"The heart."

"What heart?"

Gabriel carefully gets the cup to show you a heart drawing on top. You want to hit yourself in the head; is that what Leon has been doing? That's why he held your hand this morning to show the heart? No, it couldn't be. When Gabriel starts taking the cup to his mouth, you pull the cup back, placing the lid.

"Sorry, Gabriel, gotta go! I will return with another one!"

You rush back to the store, holding the cup firmly. Maybe, just maybe, Leon has been drawing those for you only, and you always close the lid? Maybe this is what he was trying to tell you this morning. What if Leon draws a heart for everyone? Shouldn't you be paying for that? What if—? No, no time to think of that. Perhaps this is your chance. You enter the shop, gasping for air. Ashley is nowhere around, and Leon is dusting around the table. When he sees you, his brows furrow, but he doesn't hesitate to get close to you.

"Are you okay? Something wrong?" Leon sounds concerned, his eyes scanning you.

You try to speak, still catching your breath. You pull the lid, triumphant.

"What does this mean?"

When you two look at the cup, the drawing is gone. There is just a mess of brown liquid, smelling like vanilla and cinnamon. You can't believe it. You turn to Leon, pointing at the cup and him, your mouth opening and closing.

"Have you been drawing hearts in my cup this whole time?"

"I have." He admits, blushing.

"Thanks?" Jeez, you couldn't come with something better. Leon nods as if understanding before starting to turn away. "No, wait, please, I mean, I like them. A lot."

His face lights up, and you wonder how someone can look so adorable. It is so unfair for you poor heart.

"Tha-that's good, then. I was wondering when you would see them."

"Well, 'cause the lady who drinks my coffee doesn't open the cups!" You try to explain to him, biting your tongue. Leon waits, confused. "Yeah, I don't like coffee," You finally confess your secret somberly, like a sinner talking to a priest.

"So wait. You don't like coffee and keep ordering it? Why?"

Well, now it is your turn to feel your face burning. Realization passes through Leon's face, and he starts stuttering something before three older ladies walk in, going directly to the cashier. He grabs your cup, his heart thumping as he rushes to write something. When Leon gives you back, you see his number written in black ink.

"Ca-can we discuss this better later tonight? If you want to, of course," Leon asks. You nod. "Then you can tell me all about your hate for coffee."

"I would love to."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy fluff #am i happy with this? not entirely. but i laughed a lot writing this so this has to count for something

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