#sorry this took so long to answer life has been a little hard and exhausting atm | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thisgirlnamedblusy · 8 months ago

Note

Hey, I really like your story so keep up the good work. Can you do a story about gardener turned maid x Donna. She and Donna were childhood friends, (y/n) always plays with Donna when she was a child. (y/n) also has a hard pass, she was only adopted by the previous gardener but never really took care of her but she sees him as her father anyway. (y/n) is always alone and seeks solace around Donna. When Donna's parents died she shut herself out and which made her feel even more alone. But then the lady got out and asked if she could ve her maid. This is also and excuse to be close to her again because she always admired and loved (y/n) from afar. They got closed again then (y/n) stole a kiss from Donna. Donna got angry and left. They haven't talk for days but she confess to her that she loves (y/n) as well. They were happy until one time (y/n) felt a pain in her chest, it's so painful that she loss consciousness while tending the garden, Donna became worried and took her to her room. (y/n) woke up and looked at herself in the mirror, what she saw is horrible. A giant lump is growing on her chest and some nerves are visible from it to the neck and it's dark. Donna told her it was a cadou. (y/n) demanded answers from her and Donna just told her everything what mother miranda told her during her implantation and that it's been killing her to keep that from her lover. She wanted to confront miranda to get some answers on her own. Donna told her it wasn't a good idea because she will die. Then night came and (y/n) and kissed Donna goodbye while she's asleep because there is was never really a happy ending for the both of them. She confronted miranda to get some answers, they fought while miranda was telling her that she was a failed experiment.

Good ending - Donna found her and treated her wounds and they were together again

Bad ending - Donna found her body the next day dead. Years later she still mourned for her and that she slowly looses her sanity because of it.

Note: I'm sorry it is very long but I trust that you could make a story out of this and also English isn't my first language either. And write both of the ending to give the readers some perspective about the 2 endings. Thank you

Yess!!! It's a very good plot, thank you!!! Well, I don't like bad endings, so I chose the good one. You said that you wanted the two of them and... Well, I'm going to post it later if you're okay with that!!! Anyway, thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

The friend you were used to be

Pairing: Donna Benviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: angst, dark themes, mentions of abuse, Donna being Donna, fluff, blood, Cadou, Reader POV

Word count: 10,077

Summary: Sometimes life is so unfair...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!! Requests are open, I'm waiting for yours!! I love you all!!! :)))

The pain is almost unbearable. My hands are unable to contain the blood that flows from my wound. I scream, I cry, but no one listens to me, there is no one in this dark place. Thinking that it would be the day of my death does not scare me, I was the one who went to that place. It was me who chose the day of my death, and not her. With an exhausting effort, I manage to turn around and look at the full moon through the rubble of the underground cathedral.

“Such a magnificent view,” I say, closing my eyes, breathing in pain. My bandages are torn and my soul is condemned. How did I get here? Why did my life have to end like this?

Pointless questions when the darkness is so close. I once heard someone say that when you were about to die, you might be able to see your life flashing before your eyes. It's certainly not something I feel like doing. If I have to die, let it be remembering you, my love, the only light that made me keep hope. But I feel the need to go back, to when this started...

20 years ago…

“And then I found a cave with a lot of strange black trees,” I said, talking about that little walk around the village.

“A cave?” My friend, Donna, asked, listening to me curiously while we played tea with her doll.

“Yes, yes, a huge and very deep cave,” I reaffirmed, pretending to take a sip from my empty toy cup.

It was an afternoon like many others, at the house of my friend, my only friend, Donna Beneviento.

My father, or rather, the man who called himself my father, worked for her family as a gardener. We lived isolated on the grounds of the Beneviento estate, almost as long as I can remember. Apparently, I was adopted shortly after birth.

I didn't care much about my origin either, not even that this man, Josef, didn't bother to pretend that he loved me. There was only one thing I liked to do, and that was to spend the afternoons with Donna.

She was four years older than me, she was 12 and I was 8. Despite that difference, nothing prevented us from playing with the dolls, talking, or laughing, like girls, like real friends. I couldn't blame her for seeking refuge in my friendship. She had her own problems. According to my father, she was an isolated, lonely and strange girl, who never left the grounds, who never spoke to anyone.

Maybe it was because of the lack of her right eye, which left a striking scar on her face, or maybe it was because she simply wasn't interested in humans. Whatever the case, Donna and I were friends. She needed me, and I needed her.

“So… What happened to you?” Donna asked, well, Angie, the doll that her father made for Donna so that she wouldn't feel so terribly alone. She was one more friend, even if it was only imagination.

“Well, I tripped, fell on a rock and fainted,” I said, putting my hand to the area of my chest that was still burning.

“You fainted?” The brunette asked, lying on the floor with her hands on her chin, listening attentively to my story.

I nodded, lying down too.

“I was unconscious for hours, until I woke up, outside the cave.”

“That's a lie!” Angie screamed, to which I clearly got angry.

“It's not a lie,” I protested in a childish manner, of course.

“Do you have any proof?” the older girl asked, looking at me suspiciously.

“Well yes, I have proof,” I said, showing the strange scar on my chest. “Look, Donna…”

“Wow... Does it hurt ?” She asked, reaching out towards the scar, changing distrust for curiosity. I shook my head, covering myself again.

“Sometimes,” I said, feeling good about the attention I had drawn from my friend.

“Donna, è l'ora delle tue lezioni,” Mrs. Beneviento's voice interrupted us, making Donna grimace in disgust.

“Ma mamma, stavo giocando con (Y/N)” the older girl protested, getting up and picking Angie up from its small chair.

“No complaints, Donna, besides, (Y/N)'s father will be worried, it's late,” the adult woman said, pointing to me. I woke up a little disappointed because of how short the afternoon had been. “Go home, it's getting dark and it’s dangerous.”

I protested with my eyes and nodded. After all, my father's job depended on them.

“Yes, ma'am,” I said politely, bowing my head respectfully. Donna's mother smiled tenderly at me, putting a hand on my back to guide me out.

“(Y/N),” the girl called to me, holding Angie in her arms. “Will you come tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I said, smiling as she said goodbye to me with a shy wave of her hands.

I wish I had known. I wish I had known that would be the last time I would play with my friend Donna. The next day I didn't go to her house, she didn't come to see me. That same night, something terrible happened.

Donna's parents died, both of them, jumping off the cliff that was right next to her house. Terrible, unexpected news.'

I remember the funeral…I remember how Donna couldn't stop crying.

A 12-year-old girl didn't have to have experienced that, it was unfair.

The following days were even worse. My father told me that Donna needed to be alone. Alone? A 12 year old girl alone in that big house? My mind couldn't understand it. As Donna's only friend, as an 8-year-old who wants to see her friend smile, I headed there for weeks.

“Donna, let's play,” I said, knocking on the door, waiting for an answer that wasn't a sob.

“I don't want to play,” a broken voice came from inside the house. “Go away, (Y/N)”

“Come on, Donna, please... Being alone is so boring. Look, I brought Mr. Whiskers, Angie's boyfriend. I'm sure she missed him,” I said in a childish, almost pleading voice. I couldn't lose Donna. It may have been a selfish feeling but, after all, I was only 8 years old.

“I don't want to play with you!” Donna screamed, desperate, which made me squeeze the doll tightly in my hands. “Go away!”

It didn't matter how many times I insisted, how many times I cried begging for a little time with her. I didn't see her again. Donna forgot about me, but I never, ever forgot about her.

Little by little I got used to her absence, to my loneliness. The months, the years passed slowly and I grew up alone, next to a man who didn’t take care of me, always leading my gaze to that place to which I never returned.

14 years ago…

“Father!” I screamed, covering my face with my hands. The blizzard intensified and made to walk properly impossible for me. “Hurry, we have to protect the house!”

It had been 6 years since I last saw Donna. She was a woman, not a girl. 14 years was not too many, but it was enough for new feelings to appear to torment me. Envy corroded me...

During all that time, only my father had been lucky enough to get close to the Beneviento estate, only he was allowed to take care of Donna. No matter how much I insisted, I couldn't do it. My father said that she was a strange girl, that it wasn't good for me to be around or disturb her, that Donna was only his responsibility, and not mine.

I tried to escape several times, stupidly thinking that I would be able to see her again, to talk to her after so many years. I didn't do it, I couldn't do it.

But that afternoon there were other problems to worry about. A terrible blizzard hit the place mercilessly, causing us to have to reinforce our house, nailing wooden planks to the windows.

“Stay here!” My father shouted, when he nailed the last plank.

“No, father, don't go!” I said, grabbing his arm.

“I have to see if Miss Donna is safe! Obey, (Y/N)!” He ordered me, breaking away from my grip and causing me to fall to the ground.

“Father, wait!” I shouted, standing up as best I could.

Donna could be in danger. That was the only thing I thought about as I crawled through the snow, feeling thousands of ice blades dig into my skin. I could barely walk for a few minutes. The road was blurry. There was no sign of my father, I wasn't even able to tell where I tripped and fell again, sinking into the snow.

“Help!” I shouted. It was useless. My screams were drowned out by the wind, by the snow, by the nervous crows trying to take shelter.

My vision cleared and then… Then I saw it.

A black figure was walking towards me. It looked like a woman, or something like a woman. Her walk was slow, elegant. She was carrying something in her arms. No, not something, it was someone. When she got close enough, my heart almost stopped.

Mother Miranda, protector of the village, its supreme authority, was right in front of me. The priestess clothing stood out against the snow, the golden tones of her mask made her look like a bird, something similar to a crow. In her arms, there was a young woman. Someone I couldn't recognize until she was too close.

That scar, that black hair… Donna Beneviento.

The one who was once my best friend was resting in Miranda's arms. She seemed unconscious, or something worse.

I tried to move, to reach out my hand towards her, but the cold prevented me to do so. The priestess's footsteps were already distinguishable on the ground. It was impossible for her not to have seen me.

She walked past me, carrying Donna in her arms. The blizzard didn't seem to be a problem for her at all.

"Donna..." I sighed, crawling a little as the figure slowly moved away from me. Miranda paused, perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of annoyance. She didn't help me, I barely felt her gaze on mine. What I did feel was her smile through that golden mask.

Miranda looked at me and I looked at her. Her figure remained completely oblivious to the snow and Donna seemed nothing but a dead weight in her arms.

I could hear her laughter, even today I would be able to swear that a terrible laugh came from the priestess. Slowly, she turned her head away from me again walking down the path. It had been 6 years without seeing Donna and I still wanted to save her, attack the priestess and take her to a safe place.

Miranda was good, or so they said. I never believed it. Seeing her was just a bad omen.

As time went by, I began to believe that this was just a dream, a mirage that the blizzard created for me. I soon realized that it was not.

“Adopted?” I asked, at one of the silent meals with my father. The man who didn't love me nodded, enjoying the food he forced me to make for him.

“Mother Miranda has taken pity on Miss Donna, she is her daughter now,” he explained, already drinking her second glass of wine.

“I don't understand. When I saw her, she seemed unconscious, she seemed...”

“Are you questioning Mother Miranda?” The man asked, abruptly, hitting the table with his fist. I backed away scared. In recent years, the behavior of the man who claimed to be my father had become unsustainable.

“No, father, I'm just saying that...”

“Shut your mouth and bring more wine! Don't dare to question Mother Miranda, (Y/N), not in this house.”

I nodded, with tears in my eyes. I still didn't understand anything. I still had a lot of unanswered questions. At least Donna was fine, better than ever according to my father. That's what he said. It had been too long since I had seen her, too long...

12 years ago…

Life continued its course. I, already 16 years old, had become accustomed to solitude, to the few pieces of the outside world that Josef told me about. That man was never my father. I would no longer call him as such. Hits, screams and beatings those were the summary of my existence, too much for a young girl like me.

I had no news about Donna. I didn't know what had happened to her, why Miranda had adopted her. I didn't know anything and the worst thing... The worst thing was that I cared less and less. Surviving Josef's wrath was the most important thing.

“You are a worthless girl!” The man shouted, hitting me hard on the cheek. “You are worthless!”

“Father, please, please, stop...” I begged crying, falling to the floor.

Alcoholism took away the little that was left of humanity in him. That morning, the idea of getting out of there was more present in my mind than ever.

“You will never be my family!” He shouted, stating a truth that I already knew. He had a family, his family died, he adopted me. That was the sum of his demons. I would never be his daughter. He would never be my father.

“I don't want to be your family!” I screamed furiously, struggling with his arms so he wouldn't hit me again. Taking advantage of his obvious state of intoxication, I managed to push him, to throw him to the floor with a thud.

“Stupid little girl...” He hissed, just when I was able to stand up. “You are going to pay for this!”

Josef pounced on me, ready to end everything, to kill me, to make me pay for having had to take care of me all those years. I, for the second time in my life, thought that it was the end, that it was the end of my disastrous life.

Just when his hands were about to make me gasp for breath, his gaze went from fury to bewilderment, relaxing his attempt to strangle me.

“Liza...” He murmured, as if he had heard something, as if someone had spoken to him. “Where are you?”

“What?” I asked, catching my breath.

Josef left the house like a wandering soul, looking for something that apparently only he was able to see.

“Yes... I will meet you,” the man said, walking towards the old estate, with a lost look.

It could have been a good opportunity to disappear from that place, but I didn't. Something strange was happening to Josef.

“Father?” I asked, trying in vain to put a hand on his shoulder, which he pushed away with a grunt.

“I'm coming, Liza…” He murmured again. “Yes, at the waterfall.”

“Waterfall?” I asked, scared by what that meant. “Father, wait…”

My attempt to stop him was even worse. He turned around, pushing me to the ground roughly. The only thing I could do was to watch as that man disappeared into the fog.

I sat under a tree, thinking about why I would want to save my father, who wasn't my father. I guess I was always stupid. I breathed relief and cried at the same time. For some reason, I knew I would never see him again.

When I raised my head from my knees, something scared me. A hand, a pale hand extended towards me. It was attached to a woman's body, dressed entirely in black, from head to toe, wearing a strange veil that hid her face.

The smell of her lavender and the softness of her hands were enough to know who I had in front of me. Donna.

I sobbed and used her hand to get up.

“It's all over, (Y/N)” a hoarse voice that came out of that veil whispered. It had nothing to do with that sweet voice from years ago. She was already a woman.

“What?” I said confused, blinking several times to make sure that what I was seeing was real, that Donna Beneviento, missing for years, was in front of me. “Donna… Is that you?”

The woman nodded slowly, moving away from my arm, which reached out toward her as if trying to fulfill a wish, something I had hoped to do for years.

“My God... Donna,” I sobbed, unable to contain all that torrent of feelings I felt when I saw her again, throwing myself into her arms. “It has been so long…”

She didn't hug me back, she just gasped in surprise, going completely still.

“(Y/N),” she whispered, again with that hoarse voice, forcing me to move away from her. I cried, I cried with emotion, with joy at seeing my only friend again.

“I thought... I thought you had... Oh, my goodness, Donna...” I stammered, remembering all the moments I had lived with her, all the laughter, the games, the teas with the Angie doll. My entire childhood was before my eyes.

“You're safe now,” she said, clearing her throat, with that same stoic pose, without making the slightest gesture to reflect that she was also happy to see me.

After a deep sigh, the woman in black turned around, ready to leave, to abandon me again. I couldn't allow it.

“Donna, wait, wait please,” I said, running after her, grabbing her arm. She stopped, but she didn't turn to look at me. “Please, please tell me, tell me what happened to you, why haven't you come to see me in all these years?”

She didn't respond, she just kept walking, slipping out of my grasp.

“Donna, please... Tell me what...” I said standing in front of her again. That horrible black veil made me shiver. “Why are you covering your face? What is that…?” I asked, taking one of my hands towards the woman in black.

I hissed in pain as her hand clamped down on my wrist, squeezing it too tightly.

“Donna, you're hurting me,” I protested, moving my hand away definitively. “My God, what happened to you? Josef told me that Mother Miranda….”

“Mother Miranda saved me,” the lady in black interrupted, releasing me, moving further away from me.

“What has she done to you, Donna? You don't seem like yourself...” I murmured, confused, surprised and disappointed at the same time.

“You know nothing about me” She said, now, turning around to turn her back on me again.

“You were my friend! My only friend!” I shouted, when she was far enough away.

“And you were mine, (Y/N)” she responded with a dark voice, looking at me over her shoulder.

“So what's going on? Why can't we just...? Wait...” I said, realizing something I had overlooked. Josef, I had forgotten about Josef. “What have you done to him? What have you done to my father?”

“He won't bother you anymore, (Y/N),” Donna responded, speaking naturally, ignoring what that statement implied. “Besides, he was never your father.”

“I... I don't... You don't...” I stammered. I was not old enough to take on all that stuff at once. Donna continued walking, disappearing again from my sight, from my life...

6 months ago…

12 years. 12 years have passed since the man who claimed to be my father disappeared. At first I didn't know what to do, how to act. I was too young to get out of there. I was too young to know what to do.

Donna didn't come back, I never heard from her again. I had two options: get out of there, escape from the village and never look back. The other one was... Different. My other option was to stay there, in that house, on those grounds. Alone, but free from Josef's yoke. I had no job, no family, and my only friend had built a huge wall between us.

In those 12 years I didn't see her, at least not physically. Sometimes, when I was trying to sleep, when I spent time tending the small orchard or the small garden that surrounded my house, I could feel a presence, as if someone was watching me.

I called her several times, knowing that it could only be her, that only Donna could be there. I never saw her, never, in 12 long years of loneliness.

I couldn't complain. I had a house, I could grow my food and I didn't lack the heat of the fire or the water from the old well. A sad, lonely life. Fortunately, I was already used to the crackling of the fire being my only company.

“Come on, come on...” I said grunting, holding the old wooden bookshelf I was trying to repair.

The house was falling apart, but I managed: I fixed cracks, covered windows... I was aware that this whole adventure would end the moment when, like in the story, someone blew and blew and my house would fell down. But it was not the time to accept reality, to assume that my life was never going to improve.

Every night, I struggled with the idea of not continuing to suffer, of ending what would have no solution.

“Shit!” I screamed furiously, dropping the wooden shelf as I hit my finger with the hammer in a comical way. Everything on the shelf fell apart. “Great, great, (Y/N)…” I murmured, leaning my head against the wall, suppressing the urge to tear down the house with my own hands.

“You keep it...” a familiar whisper made me open my eyes and turn around.

It was her, Donna, her black dress, her black veil, her dark figure before me after 12 years. I had to think if I was asleep or awake. Lady Beneviento remained still, behind me, holding the old doll that her father gave me on my seventh birthday.

“Donna...” I sighed confusedly, with my eyes wide open. “You…”

“What was his name?” She asked, making me shake my head and frown. 12 years old, Donna, 12 years old and all you're asking me what was the name of that stupid doll.

“It was Mr...” I murmured quietly, my hands shaking, not knowing how I was supposed to act seeing her again, just when I had assumed for years that Donna was nothing but a ghost from my past.

“Mr. Whiskers... Now I remember him. He was Angie's boyfriend,” she said, speaking with a tone that made me think she was smiling. 12 years and I couldn't even see her face.

“Yes... You remember it,” I said trembling, taking the doll from her hands, making the wooden limbs move to the rhythm of my trembling body.

“Yes, I remember when my father gave it to you. It was a funny birthday party,” the woman in black confirmed, walking towards the table where I used to eat. “I'm sure Angie would be happy to see him after so long.”

“Angie...” I sighed, shaking my head. I knew that Donna wasn't right in the head. I had known that since I was a little girl. I never gave it importance but... Hearing about Angie in that way, after so many years, from the mouth of an adult woman, made me stay alert.

“Don't worry, I left her at home, she won't bother you,” Donna murmured, sitting in the chair with a melancholic air around her.

“Donna, I...” I said, approaching, leaving Mr. Whiskers on the table. I still couldn't believe she was really there. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to talk to you, (Y/N)” she said with a soft tone, looking around her, observing the place where I lived.

“To me? After 12 years without talking to me, do you want to do it now?” I couldn't stop the fury from leaving my body. If only she knew how lonely I was all that time. At first I was sad, but later that feeling transformed into helplessness, and, over time, into apathy.

“I know it's been a long time and...” Donna started to say, but she was interrupted by my hand hitting the table hard, reminding me of that man who claimed to be my father.

“A long time? It was an eternity, Donna. Do you know how long I've wanted to see you again? Do you know how lonely I was after you locked yourself in that house? You were my only friend, and you abandoned me,” I said furiously.

“I don't...” She murmured, getting nervous, playing with the black fabric of her dress.

I took a deep breath and reached out to her face.

“What is this, huh? Why do you cover your face? What the hell are you…?” I asked while, after avoiding her attempts to stop me, I managed to remove the black cloth from her face, turning pale when I saw it. “Hiding…”

Donna stayed quiet, with a cold look on her face as I took in what she was seeing, shaking my head. The age was already evident on her face. Her features were no longer that of a girl, they were that of a woman... A beautiful woman, without a doubt, the most beautiful I had ever seen. She no longer had anything to do with that girl with whom I used to play hide and seek.

One horrible detail stood out from the rest of her features. That scar, that eye that was taken from her in an accident when she was barely 4 years old was no longer there, nor was there anything similar to that small scar.

A prominent, bulging abscess filled part of her face. I had never seen anything like it. But, although it was something horrible it was not so terrible as to hide or shadow her beauty in the slightest. Beauty? My loneliness was starting to take its toll on me.

“Gods...” I murmured, ignoring her incipient nervousness, her pathetic attempts to retrieve the veil from my hands. “Donna, what happened to you? Your face is…”

“Horrible, I know. Give it back to me,” she demanded, leaning over the table to reach her veil. I, still horrified and enthralled by her beauty, obeyed her, making her cover herself as quickly as she could.

“No, I...” I said, trying to fix the situation, wondering what terrible thing had happened. The answer was hidden in a dark corner of my mind. “It was her, right? Miranda did that to you.”

“You have no idea, (Y/N),” Donna hissed, adjusting her veil. “She…”

“Yes, she saved you. I already know that story,” I said with a superb tone, sitting in front of her and crossing my arms.

“It's impossible for you to understand,” Donna said in a dark tone, revealing a small embarrassing sob.

“You're right, Donna. I don't understand you, I don't understand anything. I don't know what that woman did to you. I don't understand what you're doing here after so many years.”

“I want to talk to you,” she said, with her hands trembling on the table. My eyes couldn't stop looking at them, at those pale, soft hands, those hands that saved me from death years ago.

“What do you want to talk about? Are you going to tell me why you haven't deigned to appear here in more than ten years?” I asked, tears threatening to run down my cheeks.

“Now I’m a Lord. I serve Mother Miranda,” The lady in black explained, ignoring my questions. I shouldn't have been surprised.

“You mean you sold your soul to that witch,” I corrected, risking seeing Josef's attitude in her. I didn't want to. I didn't want to see her that way.

“I'm not trying to convince you to understand me, (Y/N),” Donna said in a calmer tone, shifting her gaze away from mine.

“So what do you want?” I asked immediately, suppressing the urge to kick the table and throw myself at her neck to demand answers.

“My new siblings think that someone like me needs a maid,” she explained without any problem, without hesitation. That phrase made me burn with rage and laugh mockingly.

“What?”

“I don't know anyone else and I had thought that...” She continued speaking, with a tremor in her voice, probably because of my attitude.

“I don't believe you, Donna. I don't think you're asking me... Do you want me to serve you? It can't be true...” I said with a sarcastic smile, with all my emotions fighting to come out.

“I don't want you to serve me, (Y/N),” she said. “That's just a formality.”

“A formality...” I repeated, increasingly confused. “I mean, you come after 12 years to talk to me, to ask me to be your maid or something... But you say it's just a formality... Donna... You better speak clearly before I lose my patience,” I said, perhaps taking too many freedoms. The idea that Donna Beneviento was now one of the four pillars that supported Miranda's dominance was terrifying, but not enough to overshadow how important she was in my life.

“I don't want to be alone,” she said with her head down, letting her words come out with a sigh, making my gaze stop being so cold. I recognized that tone, that sincere tone that I had heard before, a long time ago.

“You've been alone for a long time,” I said, trying not to lose the firmness of my attitude. “Me too.”

“That's why I want... I want you to come with me, to my house. I will no longer be alone and neither will you,” Donna said, pleading, sobbing almost desperately.

I shook my head, wondering if it was an idea to consider. She was my best friend, the only company I had when I was a child but... But for years she was nothing, not even a shadow, not even the presence that watched me secretly.

“No, Donna,” I answered, avoiding looking at her face, not knowing how much I could last without throwing myself into her arms and telling her how much I had missed her. “I'm sorry, but you will have to find another maid.”

“I want you to be my maid,” the woman in black sighed, angry at your response. At that moment I started to get a bit scared.

“I've already told you that... No. Look, it took me a long, long time to come to terms with the idea that you were no longer with me, that you no longer wanted my friendship. You can't come after so many years and ask me to live with you. I don't know what happened to you, I don't know what's wrong with your damn head to believe that after so much time, I'll still be waiting for you.”

“But, (Y/N)... Do you really prefer to stay here rather than come with me?” Donna asked, her voice broken by the crying I was not able to see behind the black fabric of her veil.

I nodded, letting the tears wet my skin.

“Yeah, this isn't so bad, you know?” I said cockily, getting up from the chair and extending my arms so that she could look at my house. “At least I have a roof, food and water. I don’t need anything else. I don't need your false compassion. I don't need you Donna... Not anymore. I wouldn't go with you even if the roof co...”

A loud creak, a tremor in the house, silenced me. The snowfall of the last few days had been difficult to control. I knew I had to do it, that I had to remove the snow from the roof but… For some reason, I didn't, and part of the roof collapsed behind me.

“Collapses...” I sighed stunned, putting my hands on my head. At that moment I realized that to deceive fate was impossible. We all have a path in life. And mine was hers, next to her.

“Will you come with me?” Donna asked, with her hand on her chest, scared by that noise. That collapse that was very timely for her, of course.

“Shit...” I whispered, shaking my head, squeezing my eyes very tightly, wanting to wake up from that nightmare. “I guess I have no choice.”

I packed everything I needed for several days and followed the mourning woman towards her house, towards the old house where I once laughed with her, when everything seemed easier.

“Hello, hello...” A shrill voice woke me up from the wave of memories that came to my mind when I entered that house. It couldn't be possible. The Angie doll stood up on its own. It almost gave me a heart attack.

“What the…?” I asked, surrounding the puppet, which followed me with its gaze. “No, it can't be... Is it a trick?”

I approached Donna, removing the veil from her face to look for the origin of that bad joke.

“What trick, stupid?” the doll asked, climbing into the arms of its owner.

Her lips didn't move like they used to when she was a child. She wasn't using her ventriloquism. Angie lived, it really lived...

5 months ago…

It was difficult, it was really difficult, but I ended up adapting to that house. That environment was so familiar and comforting. It helped me a lot. To say that I was a maid was an exaggeration. I barely cleaned or cooked. All I did was to be there, to keep Donna company.

At first everything was very cold. I felt unable to forgive her abandonment, her betrayal, but, little by little, we began to talk again, without resentment, with that black veil increasingly absent.

Having someone by your side was a feeling that I had already forgotten. Maybe that's why I started to feel things, things that I was ashamed of. I started to see Donna as a friend again. I started to want to get closer to her, to wait until it was time for dinner to stand in front of her in silence.

Without wanting to, I fell in love with her, without wanting to remember why I liked being with her so much, why I was waiting for her for so long.

“Oh, but the office joke was better...” I said amused, taking a sip from my glass of wine, enjoying a late-night chat. Wine, lavender, Donna. Nothing could make me happier at that moment.

“You mean when we put Angie under the desk?” Donna asked, amused, raising her legs to the sofa where you were lying.

“Exactly... It was fun,” I said with a mischievous look, feeling a strange heat on my cheeks. “Oh, wow, I think, I think I should stop drinking...”

“We're in no hurry, (Y/N),” Donna said, amused, pouring more red liquid into my glass and drinking hers.

“Drink, drink, silly,” Angie said, bringing the glass closer to my mouth. I nodded, taking a sip and putting it back on the table.

“They were good times...” I whispered, with nostalgia being the protagonist of my actions and words.

“Do you remember Mr. Tim?” Donna asked, settling down on the couch.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Tim...” I repeated, nodding with an amused look. “That was the merchant we scared away, right?”

She nodded, laughing sheepishly, embarrassed by her childhood pranks.

“You were a very convincing ghost, Donna. I couldn't sleep that night,” I commented amused, pretending to tell an unspeakable secret.

“You were a little girl, it's normal that you were scared...” The lady in black joked, nudging me. I stuck my tongue out at her mockingly, forgetting for a few hours who I was having fun with, the things I had seen, what she did to Josef...

“I was 7 years old, I wasn't that young,” I protested, pretending to be offended in a fun way. “What was that phrase…? I’m the ghost of the white sheets...”

“You better run if you don't want me to catch you...” Donna continued, faking that ghostly voice from that joke so far away in time.

“You were really scary,” I said with a smile, shaking my head.

“Do I scare you now?” She asked with an enigmatic tone, as if it were a trick question. I immediately shook my head.

“No,” I answered briefly, noticing how my smile was fading little by little.

“You must be the only one,” she murmured, finishing another glass of wine.

“Your doll scares me,” I said, trying to break that small moment of tension.

“Hey!” Angie protested, causing us to look at each other for a moment, before laughing exaggeratedly, probably due to the alcohol.

“I missed you so much, Donna,” I said, catching my breath. She looked at me and sighed, her smile growing weaker.

“Me too,” Donna whispered, with a voice so low that I had to get a little closer to hear it.

“I can't stop wondering why we are so far apart...” I said, letting my mind speak for me, letting those words come out alone, demanding an explanation that I had needed for a long time.

“I didn't want to see anyone,” Donna said, leaving the glass on the table and looking away from you.

“Not even to see me?” I asked, with a bit of resentment.

“I didn't want... I didn't want to lose you too,” she admitted in a dark voice, getting closer to me. I let her do it, I wanted her to do it.

“You weren't going to lose me,” I said, getting closer to her, just a little closer.

“Well, the important thing is that now you are here, with me. We're together again,” the lady in black said with a serious tone, moving her hand to take mine, which I allowed, which made me close my eyes as I felt her soft skin caressing mine.

Our hands stayed together as our gazes met. I couldn't really say what I was feeling at that moment, but it was something, something that forced me to raise my other hand to her wounded cheek, making Donna start to tremble.

“I didn't remember...” She whispered, taking the hand that was caressing her cheek and holding it in place. “I didn't remember how good caresses felt.”

“I've thought so much about you...” I murmured, sobbing, with the heat of the wine running through my veins, with anything to stop me from confessing everything I wanted to tell her, what I was feeling at that moment.

“I thought about you too...” She said, approaching too.

I couldn't help it anymore, I just couldn't. My hands gently grabbed her face, bringing her closer to mine until my lips landed on hers. I spent a long time thinking about how it would feel to kiss someone. The actual feeling was much more incredible. I kissed her, I kissed Donna, I kissed her softly. I let my body act of its own will, enjoying the taste of the wine on her lips.

She didn't stop me, at least not at that moment. Her lips opened so that mine could continue acting, so there was no distance between us. A sigh, a gasp, that was her only response as we both continued to deepen the kiss, that first kiss that I didn't want to stop.

The salty taste of my tears joined the wine on her lips, creating a wet mixture that only grew closer and closer together. Donna moved her hands to my hair, pulling it gently, making clear that she didn't want to stop, that the heat that was slowly rising through our bodies was a sensation she didn't want to end. At least for a few minutes.

Suddenly, Donna pulled back, causing our mouths to part with a wet sound. I wish I hadn't opened my eyes, I wish I hadn't seen her scared look and her hands on my chest, preventing me from getting close again.

“What are you doing?” She asked, with her eye shining with fear, with anger, with a feeling that was incomprehensible to me.

“I... I...” I stammered, turning away from her immediately, with my face red with embarrassment, showing the mistake I had made, that we had made.

“Why did you do that!?” The lady in black shouted, mad, getting up from the sofa and covering her face with her hands.

“Donna, I'm, I'm sorry...” I said, fighting the feeling of heartbreak that overcame me, against the tears of humiliation that were beginning to soak my face.

“No, you can't...”Donna murmured confusedly, walking from one side to the other. She looked like at any moment she would lose her mind. “How dare you?!”

Screaming and crying inconsolably, she disappeared, leaving a dagger deeply stuck in my heart.

Days, weeks passed without hearing from Donna. After that kiss that she rejected, I never spoke to her again. The veil covered her face again, as if putting it as a barrier between my lips and hers. My soul was wounded, my heart broken.

The love I had begun to feel was just an illusion. I was stupid to fall in love with her, but it was too late. The idea of leaving that place was more and more present in my head.

“Damn it,” I said furiously, kicking a chair, letting out the frustration I felt at losing Donna again, because of me. A terrible idea. “Ah! Shit!” I screamed, grabbing my sore foot from that unfair kick. “Fuck!”

“You always do those things...” A voice that was nothing but a whisper interrupted my ridiculous jumping. Donna appeared behind me, face uncovered and head bowed.

“What? Donna…” I said, awkwardly putting my foot back on the floor. The pain of the kick had nothing to do with what I felt when I saw her again, when I heard her voice coming from those lips that I could never kiss again.

“When you get angry, you always hit things,” she murmured, getting closer to me, playing with her hands.

“Yes, well I...” I said, realizing a curious detail. “Wait, how do you know that?”

“I've been watching you for a long time, (Y/N)...” She confessed, confirming my suspicions, the suspicions that there was someone stalking me. “I... I went to your house and looked at you.”

“You were looking at me,” I repeated, blinking in disbelief.

“I wanted to know, I wanted to know what you were like...” The lady said, getting closer and closer, making my body tremble again. “If the idea I had about you was true.”

“The idea?” I asked, noticing how her hands grabbed my waist, pulling my body.

“I love you, (Y/N),” she said whispering in my ear, making me turn away confused. “I have been loving you for a long time…”

“So…. Donna, why did you reject me?” I asked, crying, this time, with joy.

“I... I don't know how to control my emotions... I was afraid that you wouldn't...”

I didn't let her finish. My lips collided with hers again, letting myself go, grabbing her head so that this time she wouldn't dare to move away. She wouldn't do it, ever again.

No more words were needed, just kisses, just whispers, caresses...

That night my world changed, that night when I didn't stop loving her, when the desire that lived inside us was able to come out. Kisses, caresses, hugs, moans... It happened that night, the night in which we both lost our innocence, the night in which we showed that love can beat everything, even the passage of time, even our two hearts, that didn't know how to love until that night.

Two days ago…

Everything was perfect. The relationship we had was wonderful. There were so many things to discover, so much love to give, to receive. Nothing could go better in my life, and in hers. But fortune didn't last in a poor man's house, or so they used to say.

It was an ordinary afternoon, in which I was dedicated to tidying up the disastrous garden outside the house.

“Ah...” I protested when I felt a puncture in my chest, a very painful one.

I tried to continue taking care of the flowers, but the pain became more and more intense, unbearable.

“Donna!” I screamed, kneeling on the ground, noticing how something was beating inside my chest, something that was not my heart. “Donna!”

That was the last thing I could scream before my vision blurred. Then there was only darkness.

“(Y/N), tesoro, please wake up...” A soft whisper made me open one of my eyes. Her dark figure was sitting next to me, squeezing my hand. I felt comfortable, I was in bed.

“Donna...” I said with a dry throat, moving my hand towards a glass of water that was resting on the table. “Water…”

Donna wasted no time, feeding me the drink lovingly.

“What happened to me?” I asked, swallowing all the water, feeling an annoying burning in my chest.

Donna opened her mouth to say something, but she didn't, she simply lowered her head and stood up to grab something from her dresser, a mirror. Without saying anything, embarrassed or scared by something, she sat next to me on the bed again, placing the mirror in a way that allowed me to look at myself.

What I saw almost made me faint. My torso was bare, covered in horrible black veins that ran up to my neck. Where the top of one of my breasts should have been, there was now a dark, throbbing, black lump. I shook my head, touching it. My scar was gone. My chest was far from what it was.

“What is this? What is this?!” I screamed horrified, nervous. Donna didn't respond, she continued to avoid my gaze. “Gods… No, it can't be…”

“You had it when I found you unconscious in the garden. I wanted you to see it before I heal you,” Donna said with a terribly low voice, giving away that she was hiding something with the sweat that glistened on her forehead.

“What is this? What is happening to me? Donna, tell me what this is,” I said nervously, moving the mirror away so I couldn't look at that horrible deformity.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” she whispered, taking my trembling hand. I pushed it away, thinking she had something to do with it.

“What have you done to me?” I asked with dark eyes, roughly grabbing her chin so that she couldn't look away from me. “You… It was you, right?”

“It wasn't me! She screamed defending herself, pushing my hand away from her face, sobbing nervously.

“Tell me what the hell is going on, Donna...” I hissed, getting up from the bed with a dangerous look.

“No, I don't know... No, you shouldn't...” She stammered, scared by my reaction. “It's not possible.”

“What?” I asked, controlling the tone of my voice before the imminent appearance of a terrible crisis.

“What, what you have is... It's...”

“What is it, Donna?” I asked, tired of her babbling.

“You have, you have a Cadou,” the lady in black said, turning away from me, cowering away from my irascible attitude.

“A Cadou? What's that?” I asked calmer, fighting against the anger and the burning in my chest.

“A, a Cadou is a parasite that... Oh, Gods... Why do you have one?”

“Donna, my love...” I said nervously “You have to speak clearly to me, do you understand? Explain it to me.”

She nodded nervously, letting my hand caress hers as I sat back down on the bed.

“The Cadou is the gift that Mother Miranda gives us. We, the Lords... We all have one. She implanted it in us. That's why Angie can move, why my face looks that way. It's... It's...”

“Okay...” I sighed, running my hand over my forehead. “But how?”

“I don't know... If I knew I would tell you but... I'm sorry, (Y/N). I never told you about it because, because I thought you'd be scared.”

I ran my hand over my now deformed chest, trying to remember how something like this could have happened to me. Suddenly it hit me, like a providential revelation. That black lump was not in any place on my chest. I had come out right where I had that strange scar, the scar I got the day I explored that strange cave.

That was the moment when Miranda acted, that was the reason for that sinister laugh when the priestess looked at me the day she brought Donna.

“What will happen to me?” I asked, letting all the emotions come out through a sigh.

“I don't know, tesoro... I... Let me heal that wound and... I don't know what we could do...” Donna said stuttering, running a hand over my cheek wet with tears of helplessness.

I let Donna heal me in silence, let her bandage my horrible chest, hiding that black thing, that horrible thing. My mind wandered to possible causes and consequences. It didn't look good. The sting was terrible, was I going to die? No, I couldn't think about that.

I spent my 28 years practically alone, without anyone, with an abusive father, with a friend who disappeared to return years later, to become my beloved. After years of loneliness, I had finally found my place, the place where I wanted to belong: Next to Donna, telling her every day that I love her, not wanting to live without her kisses.

A feeling of anger coursed through my nerves, making the most dangerous option cloud my senses.

“I'm going to face her,” I hissed through clenched teeth when Donna finished bandaging me. She gasped, shaking her head. “I want to know why she did it.”

“No, you can't, (Y/N). Miranda's wishes cannot be questioned.”

“Do you also have blind faith in her?” I asked with venom in my voice, narrowing my eyes at the woman in black, who shook her head.

“It's not that, (Y/N). She, she will kill you...” Donna murmured, kissing me on the lips, trying to make me reason, something that was difficult at that point.

“I don't... I can't... I have, I have to do something or...” I said confused, with my temples throbbing and the sting clouding my senses.

“No, nothing will happen to you, (Y/N). I'm going to take care of you... I promise.”

2 hours ago…

I began to think about my situation. My chest hurt, it burned, but at least I was still alive. Donna took care of me. She gave me her love every day, every hour. But that... That was no longer enough for my wounded soul. I had suffered so much. I had had so many misfortunes in my life that I began to think that it was my fate, that I could no longer believe that I could be happy.

I turned in bed, where Donna was resting next to me. My hand gently reached out to caress her soft skin, causing her to stir, but not wake up. I smiled tenderly and bit my lip, suppressing the sadness I felt at having made that terrible decision.

“Donna, my love... Forgive me... I have to do it,” I whispered quietly so as not to wake her, approaching her lips, giving her a soft kiss, just for a few seconds, surely the last kiss I would give in my entire life. .

She growled adorably, reaching for her hand towards my body, trying to keep me from separating from her. Her hand losing contact with mine as I stood up was the worst moment of my life.

Covering my mouth so as not to cry, I left the room, getting dressed and taking one last look at what, for a few months, had been my home, my family.

I went out into the cold of the night, searching, wishing that black and gold shadow would loom over me, that it would finish me off, or that it would give me the answers I was looking for. That didn't happen until, after walking for a while, I managed to reach that cave, the cave where, when I was 8 years old, I was a victim of that witch.

“Miranda!” I screamed with all my might, without devotion, without love, with hatred, with anger. The echo of my voice bounced off the walls, where those black trees twisted, as if they had heard my words.

“Oh, (Y/N), what a surprise,” a velvety voice came out of nowhere, Miranda, smiling, without that horrible mask, gesturing for me to follow her.

My fists were clenched tightly, but my common sense told me that I should listen to him.

I followed her, I followed her thinking of a thousand ways to put an end to her, I followed her to a kind of underground cathedral. I remembered that place, Donna had told me about it. It was where they met.

“Why?” I asked when the priestess stopped, looking at me with bright eyes, eyes that were like daggers in my chest.

“What have I done?” She asked sardonically, enjoying my confusion and my anger.

“This!” I shouted, undoing the bandage and showing her the deformity of my torso, which she looked at with a look of satisfaction.

“I see... So it's finally deigned to come out...” She murmured, approaching me like a current of icy air, of cutting wind.

“Why?” I asked again.

“Oh, shut up, your questions are bothering me, (Y/N)...” The witch said, touching the lump on your chest contemptuously.

“You're a bitch,” I said hissing, growling, and putting my life at risk.

“How rude you are... It seems that you have grown up alone, mm? Has no one taught you manners? I was hoping that Donna would have spent her time teaching you how to be a person of worth, but I see that the only thing she's taught you is how to make her happy in bed, right?”

“Shut up!” I screamed, pushing the woman by her chest, pushing her away from me.

“You're playing with my patience, (Y/N)... Don't be dramatic. After all, you are of no use to me,” she whispered, circling around me like a scavenger bird. “What a pity. When I saw that little girl sneak into the cave I thought: why not? Surely the Cadou acts wonderfully with someone so young... But, it seems that I was wrong about you...”

“What are you taking about?” I asked, feeling weaker with every passing second.

“Please, (Y/N). I can't speak more clearly. I put some hope in you but... I'm afraid you are another failure.”

“What?” My voice sounded weaker and weaker.

“A failed experiment if you prefer that way. After so many years Cadou has not been able to fully develop. A shame.”

“I'm not an experiment, I'm a person,” I said, without taking into account the consequences.

“Yes, yes, that's what everyone says... But hey, you're lucky, maybe you won't die,” Miranda said, opening her eyes in a sinister way. “You might live long enough to die of old age next to crazy Donna, isn't that wonderful?”

“Don't insult her,” I growled furiously. Oh no, not Donna.

“Are you threatening me? How daring...” Miranda laughed, amused by my obvious weakness.

My hand searched in my skirt pocket, looked for the knife I took from home, the knife with which I planned to kill her. What a stupid thing.

“I'll kill you!” I screamed, lunging at the blonde, who made no effort to dodge my attack, which went straight to her chest.

The knife went deep into her skin, but she didn't bleed, the bitch didn't bleed. Miranda just pulled the gun from her body and laughed out loud.

“Stupid girl...” She murmured, shaking her head. “How easy it would have been for you to be nice to me…”

I couldn't speak, I couldn't move. I was scared to death. I was going to die, but deep down, I already knew it.

“But you know what? I think you and Donna make an adorable couple... At least with someone next to her she won't lose her mind completely,” the priestess said amused, playing with the knife in her hand. “You caught me in a good mood, (Y/N).”

A freezing cold passed over my shoulder as her golden claws dug into it, wetting the fabric of my blouse with five thin threads of blood.

“I offer you a deal,” she hissed in my ear, causing me to shiver. “You can go with Donna and live happily if…”

“If?” I said trembling, closing my eyes, waiting for the final blow.

“If you can survive...” Miranda murmured moments before a horrible pain crossed my stomach.

I gasped and looked down. The same knife I intended to kill Miranda with was now stuck in my body, causing me overwhelming pain, causing me to fall to the ground, curling in on myself.

“Oh, come on, it's not that big of a deal... I've been pious,” the priestess mocked.

With what little strength I had, I reached out with my blood-covered hand to grab her clothes, pulling at them with ridiculous force. She kicked it away unpleasantly.

“I'll let Donna know. I think she will arrive in about… 20 minutes,” the blonde said, walking slowly, further and further away from my erratic movements due to the pain. “If you are alive when she arrives, she will have no difficulty healing you. I will not kill you. If you die... Well, I guess we'll leave it in the hands of fate, right?”

The sound of her steps was camouflaged with her laughter, leaving me badly injured, alone, writhing in pain.

And here, on the cold stone floor, contemplating the full moon, I finish remembering how I had gotten there. My life does not pass before my eyes. Donna is the only thing I can see. Her kisses are the only thing I feel on my skin, her whispers are the only thing I hear.

The full moon is horrible if I remember her beauty, her smile. All I can do is think about her. I have no intention of fighting, of calming my pain. I had asked for it and just as Miranda said: it had to be left in the hands of fate.

Deep down I feel the need to scream for her, for her to hurry up and heal me. But the memories that I’m able to evoke tell me that there was never the slightest possibility that I, that we, could be happy. A painful truth that only now, on the verge of death, I’m able to accept.

I close my eyes, feeling my body go numb. I remember hearing Donna's parents talk about a local legend that said that if you died in the village, you wouldn't die completely. But they, they died. They didn't take care of her daughter from a distance. I guess that's what happens when you're about to die, I guess the comfort of a legend that says your soul will live on is normal when you start seeing the light.

For me there is neither heaven nor hell. There is no heaven without Donna, there is no hell without Miranda. I have nothing left and nothing I leave behind. Only one woman, only the only woman I have ever loved.

“(Y/N)!” A scream brings me out of the review of my sins, from my breathing becoming weaker and weaker. It is a strident, desperate scream.

I turned my head so that the moonlight didn't look like the light I should follow. Just a bit more, I have to know whose voice it is. But my body is weak, it is getting weaker. I feel how death is calling me. I feel that this voice is becoming more and more like a whisper...

“Ah!” I scream when I wake up. As if it were a nightmare, I see myself in my bed, in our bed. My chest hurts, my stomach hurts. My whole body is numb, as if I have been sedated.

When I look forward, I see a black lump above my legs and the sensation of breathing on them begins to tickle. It couldn't be possible, but apparently, I'm back home and Donna… Donna is lying asleep on my lap.

I touch my body to check that I haven't died, that the wounds are still there. They are there, hidden by bandages, but they are there. I haven't died, I'm alive, I'm with Donna. I'm in Heaven, my Heaven.

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #requests #oneshot

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cryptidsofwakemoor · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 10 - Paranoia

"You... are one of OUR products, Matchstick. Don't forget that."

~*~

Mystic

Tikki works on her own omelet in comfortable silence, letting her guest relax by the fire while she filled her own egg patty with her additions of choice. Once her folded egg taco was on the plate, she drizzled some kind of red liquid over top of it, and took up those metal tools he could never quite understand the purpose of. Lifting her plate, she goes to sit at the couch, and- uses the tiny knife and spoked thing to poke and cut her omelet, eating it off the utensils.

Oh. That’s what they were for. She didn’t need to get food on her hands at all.

…

“Have you been on the streets your whole life?” Tikki asks, quiet.

Spooky

He looks up from watching her cut the omelet and poke it with the pronged thing, before frowning a little and shaking his head no.

No, being on the streets was a relatively new thing for him. In a way, he had kind of lucked out that adaptability was part of his training, otherwise he may not've survived very long, but... This probably wasn't what they had in mind while training him. It was more for use in battle.

He glances down at the floor in front of him, wishing he still had the snow and stick to help him explain things. The best thing he could do for now, though, was try and sum up everything he could into one word, and force it out of his uncooperative throat.

"L.. ll- laa... b," he rasps, looking back at her.

Mystic

Tikki, who had been mid-bite of her own omelet, chokes on the piece of food. She has to pound on her chest for a second before the food is dislodged, and she can breathe again.

In just one word, that was- quite a bit of information to swallow. Just like her omelet.

"I'm- hkf- sorry," Tikki apologizes, rubbing at her throat for a moment. "You- wh- but- how-? You came from a lab? Excuse me? As in- wait-"

She frowns, staring into space. He can see it in her eyes- she was putting together a lot of puzzle pieces. She sets aside the plate, losing her appetite in this moment.

"...that- suddenly a lot of things make sense. But- why were you in a lab?"

Spooky

He looked alarmed when she choked on her food, but once she'd dealt with that enough to ask him more questions, he ducked his head slightly and slid his hand over the nape of his neck. He gave a small shrug, mainly because he didn't know how he'd got there. He couldn't really remember being anywhere else, leading him to think that maybe he was born there…? Though there were some things he could just barely recall that seemed to contradict that.

He knew what trees were, before he’d even escaped. They'd never let him outside, not once, but he could picture outside, sometimes in dreams... And there were other things, too. Faded voices and shapes, and strong emotions attached that left him feeling lost, scared, and like he'd been hollowed out whenever he thought about it too hard.

So usually, he didn't.

All he had for an answer as to why he was there was what they were developing him for.

"...w... wepn," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact and looking back at the burning fireplace.

Mystic

...There's a long pause.

Even though he wasn't facing her, he could feel her eyes boring into him. Analyzing.

Behind his back, the scales on the back of Tikki's arm start to stand on end. She clasps at her forearms with her hands, clenching her jaw as she wills the beast back into the depths, forcing the scales back down.

The thought, and all the implications it carried, made her so, so angry. But she just got back to normal from a shift- if she let it happen again so soon, it would exhaust her. She'd be so depleted of energy that she wouldn't want to move for a week, and she wasn't in a position to let that happen anymore.

"...Okay," she says, finally. A brief, forceful exhale as she quells her outrage for his sake. "I see why you ran away, now."

Tikki puts her chin in one hand, thinking. Then her eyes flick to the door. Then back to him in worry.

"...Am I gonna get in trouble with the law or something if someone finds out you're in my house? Are YOU in trouble with whoever you ran from?"

Not that she was particularly bothered by the idea of someone reprehensible showing up at the door. She'd welcome the opportunity to feed someone a knuckle sandwich and have it be sweet justice. But not at the cost of somebody else being put in danger.

Spooky

Feeling her staring, he glanced back at her, worried he'd made her angry at him. He could sense the tension, and his eyes turned downwards as he fidgeted with his hands.

Her questions didn't assuage his nerves any, either... because he had, if only for a brief time due to the distractions and curious things in this house, forgotten he was being hunted.

He was hesitant to answer, worried that confirming this fact would get him thrown out. Tikki was nice, but to get involved in anything like this seemed like too much to ask of anyone.

He didn't know what this 'law' was, but he knew the Aria Corporation was big, and they had a lot of resources. Hell, their damn logo still haunted him whenever he sneaked into town, never truly letting him forget that he wasn't safe.

...It wasn't fair not to tell her, though. To not at least try and warn her about what she was getting into if she let him stay in her home.

Looking conflicted, he finally nodded. Setting aside his disc, he reached down and tried to trace a shape on the rug with his finger, but it wasn't very clear.

Mystic

A long, sad sigh.

"...ok. I figured."

Tikki glances at the rug, leaning to see what he was drawing- but she couldn't make anything out from here. Hm. Maybe he was just doodling from the stress. She did sorta put him on the spot, all of the sudden.

"...well, I'm not going to just let you freeze to death in the snow," she says, frowning. "And whoever uses a kid test subject for scientific experiments is super fucked up, I'll tell you that."

Standing up from the couch, she moves to sit on the rug next to him, scooting a bit closer so she's near enough for expression of comfort, but just at the edge of his personal space. She looks down at the carpet as she talks, idly trying to decipher his finger-drawing on the floor.

"I don't have much to offer, Sticks. I do have a roof, and food, sometimes. I don't make a lot of money, and I'm dealing with my own demons- but I'd still like to help you, somehow. If you want it?"

Spooky

He doesn't seem able to get the tracing of his finger across, so he stops. The best that could be deciphered from it was that he seemed to be writing an 'A' for part of it. If he was trying to make a word, though, the rest of the scrawl was incomprehensible. There didn't seem to be any other letters, and even the A was kind of questionable.

He looked unsure at her offer, not because he was keen on turning his figurative nose up at it though. Moreso, he was worried. She already had stress from turning into the silver beast, and didn't have much money, and... he didn't know what 'demons' were, but that didn't sound good either.

...

But at the same time, he didn't wanna go back to taking his chances in that hole in the ground. Not after he knew what being in a warm house on a soft rug, with not one but TWO blankets was like.

His eyes searched her expression. She really did seem to want to help...

He hugged his pillow close and gave a little nod, before resting his chin on it.

Mystic

He feels more than sees her hand clasp onto his shoulder, squeezing once in reassurance before letting go.

"Okay," she says, offering him a little smile. "I'll do what I can."

Tikki leans back to the couch again, and takes her plate with the half-eaten omelet. She sets it on the carpet and slides it over to him, letting it rest by his knee.

"Here- you can have the rest of mine. I wasn't very hungry, anyway."

A lie. Shifting consumed a lot of calories she had to replenish, which she had every intention of doing so later when he was asleep or something. But right now, she lost her appetite. At least this way the food wouldn't go to waste.

Tikki stands up, stretching her shoulders and wiggling her webbed toes.

"I don't know a lot about you, and that's fine- you don't have to share what you don't want to." Tikki scratches behind her head, starting back towards the kitchen to start cleaning. "Just let me know how I can best help you, alright?"

Spooky

He looked from the offered omelet half to her, before he picked it up with his hand and stuffed it in his mouth, licking the remaining red sauce off his fingers. This had a different taste than his, but was still good!

He didn't seem as keen to get up, covered in fluffy blankets as he was. While he wasn't full, his stomach was no longer empty, and going from being outside in the snow with almost no clothes for most of the day to taking a hot bath and sitting all bundled up next to a roaring fireplace... Sleepiness was definitely setting in, and his eyelids drooped.

He nodded in response to her, rubbing at one of his eyes with the palm of his hand.

"Th... thanks," he said, straining to try and be louder since she had walked back to the kitchen. Oof, probably wasn't the best idea. Fuck, he wished he could figure out how to fix his broken voice. It'd been a long time since he'd heard what it sounds like normally, but he knew it wasn't supposed to sound like this.

Mystic

Tikki glances back in his direction at the sound of the voice crack. Ouch. That sounded very unpleasant. Did speaking cause him pain? Maybe his throat was damaged from... whatever happened to him in the 'lab'.

She tried not to think about it. He wasn't there, now.

"It's no trouble," she says, offering another smile as she removes the pan to wash it. "Nobody should have to live on the street- especially not kids."

In the background, Tikki quietly goes about making some hot apple cider. It was just a cheap packet mix, but it was easy, and fast. The water boils gently on the stove while she cleans up the containers of omelet fillings, and puts away all the washed dishes once she'd dried them with a kitchen towel.

She is left to ponder in silence for a while. He'd never seen silverware, didn't know how to feed or take care of himself. Laboratories that tested on humans- at least, he might be human, she really wasn't sure- evidently still existed, and were doing shady shit like turning children into weapons. That was the most she could ascertain from his broken speech and limited information. Whoever was responsible, they were probably out looking for this kid. And if she was caught with him in custody, if she was lucky, she'd be left alone- but he would no doubt be taken back to whatever hell he endured.

She had seen the rocky injuries all over his back. She couldn't begin to comprehend what would cause that. It looked a little better after he was able to bathe, but there was still a substantial amount of rock crust covering his spine. She was hesitant to touch it, or ask about it in case it was sensitive.

Steam hisses from the kettle, and she turns off the stove burner. Water is poured into mugs, and Tikki shakes out the cider mix into the mugs, pouring honey into both. Stirring them with spoons, she walks back out into the living room to check on him.

"I've got hot cider, for your throat," she says, rounding the couch.

Spooky

He looked like he'd gone into almost a kind of sleepy trance, watching the flames dance on the logs...

But he perked back up a little when Tikki returned with- Oh! He'd seen these before, sometimes he would see people at the lab walking or standing around with these little handled cylinders in their hands, usually in the hallways when he was being transported to another area. He never knew what was in them, but they had a nice smell...

These smelled good too, but in a different way. When Tikki handed one over to him, he took it and held it in both hands, peering down at the unfamiliar drink. Unsure how to proceed, he dipped his tongue into it to give it a taste.

Mystic

The immediate taste was sweet, with a hint of spice that wasn't quite the same as the red thing he ate earlier. What did Tikki call it? 'Pepper'? This was different. It was hot, though, and the little bit he managed to swallow off his own tongue actually soothed his aching throat a little, more than water had up until this point.

Tikki, seeing this, chuckles into her own mug that she had just lifted to her face.

"Okay, that was pretty cute," she says, snickering. "And you have a lava tongue?? Weird, and cool. But yeah- you drink it like this."

Tikki demonstrates, holding the mug in her hands up to her chin and tipping it back a little, taking a gulp of the liquid inside before tipping it back down, swallowing with a satisfied exhale.

"It has honey in it, which is a natural remedy for throat problems," she explains, sipping more of her own drink before continuing. "I've had to use it before when shifting damaged my voice for a day or two. Should help, I think. And if it gets too cold, you can always reheat it."

Spooky

He flushed with a faint glow at her comments, but did his best to mimic the demonstration, slowly tipping and attempting a sip with a noisy slurp.

...Holy shit! A way to drink without getting it all over himself! He looked down at the mug with big eyes full of wonder. This was awesome!

He was quick to drink the rest of it down, steam spilling from his mouth when he lowered the mug and exhaled afterwards. The honey coated his throat, making it feel less sore after his attempts to talk. His glowing tongue poked out again, licking his lips.

Mystic

Another chuckle from Tikki.

"I mean this in the best way- you're like a big puppy," she jokes, watching the steam puff up towards her ceiling. "A lanky, fire-breathing puppy."

Sipping her cider, she sighs, getting up from the carpet one last time.

"You look ready to pass out, so I'm going to let you rest. You can use the couch, or stay on the carpet, whatever you feel like- sleep well, Sticks."

And with that, she walks off to the rest of her house, presumably to wind down for the rest of her afternoon. It wasn't far past midday, but she'd had an exhausting morning, and she figured he did as well.

Spooky

His expression briefly turned to confusion as he tried to figure out what a puppy was, but he shrugged it off, setting down the now empty mug. He was very sleepy, and probably would've been content to just sleep next to the fireplace, though without anything to prop him up he kept slowly listing to the side until he'd jerk back upright with a start.

He let out a tired grumble and crawled like a blankety slug across the floor until he was at the couch, where he leaned back against the side of it. It was definitely softer than the dirt had been, and the blankets added extra cushioning. Hugging the pillow close, he curled up and rested his head on it, so cozy that he drifted off in no time.

...

"You really thought you could just leave... Didn't you?"

His eyes shot open at the familiar cold voice of the ponytailed man, Dr. Rainer... but he didn't see him anywhere when he looked around the living room. It was nighttime now and the fireplace had gone out, bathing the room in darkness, and any warmth seemed to have been sucked out of the house along with it.

Then, a red dot appeared in the window. Followed by another, then another, and they continued to multiply until they were peering in through every window, swarming, a buzzing sound reverberating off the walls and leaving him rattled. Drones.

With a smash of glass they set upon him, giving him barely even any time to stand before they were already on him, a writhing mass of buzzing motors and claw arms, reaching and scratching and grabbing. He managed to fight back, blasting them with fire and setting his fists crunching into metal when they got too close, but there were always more to take their place.

"No matter where you scurry off to, you can never truly abandon your purpose. You know that, don't you?"

Metal parts crunched underfoot as he continued to doggedly fight against a neverending onslaught, pouring in through the windows like wasps from a nest.

Suddenly, another piercing pain lanced through the back of his neck, near the base of his skull, his vision blurring and going white for a few moments as he was brought to his hands and knees.

When he opened his eyes again, the drones were gone, and the room was quiet... But as he remained there, trying to catch his breath, he realized something very quickly. He couldn't move.

"Stand."

To his dawning horror, he stood up. Without trying to. His body was moving without his input. His eyes wouldn't even budge when he tried to look around.

"You... are one of OUR products, Matchstick. Don't forget that. Now... Destroy."

NO!

It was too late. Fire sparked and climbed up his limbs, engulfing his body in flames that started to catch on the floor around him. He raised his arms and sent blasts of fireballs careening around him, smashing walls and furniture, anything not annihilated on impact would perish in the blaze... The walls buckled in the inferno. Chunks of ceiling fell. This house was done for, and everyone in it, including Tikki.

And as he distantly heard her screams, he felt...

nothing.

-!!!

Heart hammering in his chest, his eyes opened for real this time and he sat bolt upright with a gasp, prompting a coughing fit. Smoke spiraling out of his mouth, he tried to catch his breath and regain his bearings.

Mystic

The house is quiet. Besides his panting breaths and his heart trying to decide if it wanted to break his ribcage and escape, there was no sound beyond the distant hum of the heater in the walls. The fire- which appeared to have had an extra log placed on it at some point- had burned low until all that was left were charred husks, and a pile of glowing embers. It produced only a faint pop and hiss, along with the lightest aura of remaining warmth.

The house is dark. Just like in his nightmare- but there's no voice to taunt him in the shadows. The windows, which had been an open view out into the world, were covered by thick drawn curtains. Nothing could see inside, not even the searching cameras of the drones he knew were looking for him out in the city. No light is leaking past the borders of those curtains, either. He'd passed out somewhere around noon. Had he slept so long that it was nighttime?

The house is empty. Tikki is nowhere to be seen. A door at the far end of the corridor across the living room is shut. Perhaps she was there, or perhaps she left.

A hand flies quickly to the back of his neck-

-and he feels nothing. No robotic devices, no grasping claw-like limbs, no collar, and no needle stabbing into his skin. All that he finds is... the pre-existing injection site, that had long since healed over.

He was alone with his blankets and his pillow, a dying fire in the fireplace, and the lingering terror of the nightmare.

Spooky

Despite the realization that it had been a bad dream, and that there were no threats in sight, he still felt almost afraid to move for a while. He pulled the blankets up around him like it was a barrier, camouflage to hide him from whatever lurked through his imagination.

Still, he couldn't go back to sleep. Not without making sure everything was okay... So holding the pillow and clutching one of the blankets around him, he got up and checked the perimeter, wandering through the living room and down the hall, peeking in through the doors just to be safe.

Mystic

…So far, everything seemed to be clear.

The kitchen still smelled like the food Tikki made earlier - ‘om-lets’, or something. The burners in the stove were off, and all the dishes had been cleaned and returned to their rightful places.

The living room was the same. The book he picked up still sat haphazardly on the stack when he set it aside. The fire was still dying, the firewood stack neatly piled.

The windows were unshattered; no glass or broken drones littered the floor from his imagined combat. Peeking beyond the curtains showed a gentle fall of snow from the sky, and a dark, starless night filled with clouds.

…

Paying close attention to the house let him notice a few things. The scratches from the driveway were present here, too- they had been spackled and repaired wherever possible, but the signs of wear persisted. Wooden furniture was bent or scored in places, as if something big had clumsily scraped by it. These must be the signs of whenever Tikki transforms against her will, identical to what he found outside. This was a small abode to contain the oversized- whatever it is she turns into.

The door at the end of the hall has the most prominent damage, where the frame is buckled up and outward in a couple places, and the hinges had been repaired multiple times.

What did she say again? ’Shifting outside sucks because she can’t fit through the door,’ or something.

…There’s a faint buzzing sound coming from the door. She was probably asleep, oblivious to his nighttime panic.

Spooky

The sound was sort of like the breathing noises she made while asleep as the silver beast, but smaller... It wasn't like the buzz of drones, this was far less harsh and only happened at intervals instead of continuously. Still, just in case, he listened for a bit, before gathering up the nerve to open the door just a crack and peek inside.

Mystic

The inside of Tikki’s room was also dark, all lights in the room turned off save for a single lamp in the shape of a spiny fish plugged into a wall socket. There were more plants in hanging pots, some with flowers that wafted a sweet scent. A fan overhead spun in a slow circle. Against one wall was a tank full of water, plants, pebbles, and several small fish that flitted about once the light from his eyes was upon them. A filter hummed quietly on the tank, the only other notable sound in the room.

On the bed was Tikki, fast asleep. She was haphazardly wrapped in a thick blanket of her own, and what was visible of her arms and legs was covered in some sort of cloth outfit with more fish stitched onto it. She had a book open next to her on the bed. Thin red lines on the sides of her neck produced the buzzing sound he’d been hearing, every time she breathes. Was that how she snores?

The fish in the tank all swim at once towards the corner nearest the bed, swimming frantically at the tank glass.

Tikki grunts, her snore sputtering as she reaches up and rubs at her face with one hand. Moving to sit up, she looks first towards the tank. A pause, ear fins twitching, before she looks towards the door. The mermaid squints, her eyes reflecting the light from the doorway as she sleepily processes.

”Nghf- Sticks…? I see… your eyes glowing.”

Spooky

The glowing eyes peering from the doorway glance to the side self-consciously and duck behind the door, though after a few moments, one came peeking back into view.

Yeah, she'd seen him, there was no point hiding. The door opened more and he stood in the threshold, huddled in his blanket, his tallness diminished in appearance somewhat by his nervous, slumped posture. He squeezed his pillow underneath his arm.

"S... sorry," he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the fish tank filter. "Checking... if safe." The honey must have helped somewhat, that was the most talking he'd managed in one go since they'd met!

Mystic

There's a pause as Tikki's sleepy brain works its way through what he just said.

"Oh..." she mumbles, yawning- and revealing a mouth absolutely full of sharp teeth. "It's... ok, Sticks. It's just you, me, and the guppies... they started yellin' the moment you-" another yawn "-opened the door."

She rubs at her face again, this time with both hands.

"You gonna- be ok...? Can you go back- to sleep...?"

Spooky

Guppies? He looked at the fish in the tank, though he hadn't heard them make any noise, let alone yell. He blinked, but turned his attention back to Tikki.

He nodded, but it was clear by how he was carrying himself that he was hesitant to go back to sleep. He was still tired, but fear had put him in a state of alertness despite that. Backing up from the door, he turned to go back down the hall. Maybe if he couldn't sleep, he could at least keep watch...

Mystic

"Wait."

Tikki grunts, scooting to the edge of her bed and rolling her legs over the side. She adjusts the sleeves of her colorful cloth attire, and digs around in her blankets. She removes something lumpy and plush from the bundle of blankets, standing up to approach the door.

"Here," Tikki says, holding out the object to him. "Holding this helped me relax when I first started living on land instead of the sea."

It was a stuffed lizard of some sort, but it had tiny plush spines on its back and a little pair of plush wings. Fabric fangs poked out of a sewn mouth underneath tiny black bead eyes.

"His name is Slithers. Maybe he'll help you feel safe, too."

Spooky

His glowing eyes blinked in the dark like two half-covered spotlights as he picked up the little soft... creature? He didn't know what it was, but it didn't seem to be alive. It appeared to be made out of the same kind of soft stuff the pillow was. The fabric that made up its plush hide had some kind of a spotted pattern that glimmered in the light of his eyes, like scales. Whatever this fake creature was, its appearance was endearing, and he smiled a little despite his anxiety.

He nestled it between the pillow and his body and gave a little nod to Tikki in thanks.

As he made his way back to the couch, he thought about what Tikki had said. She used to live in the sea... But what was that, exactly? A different town? He wondered how often she had to move. She had to hide too, right? If people found him scary to look at, they would absolutely find the silver beast to be scarier...

Getting to the couch, he took another look around the room. Still all clear. He was about to settle back down where he'd been before, when he stopped, noticing how his hand sunk down on the cushion of the couch when he started to kneel down on the rug. His eyes widened, and he squished the cushion with his hand.

This thing had pillows on it!

He got back up, and almost as if he wasn't sure if he was allowed to do this or not, he cautiously sat on the couch instead, curling up in the crook of the couch's arm. It felt like he had more defenses this way, being in a corner- and it was a very soft and squishy corner. It was like he was gonna sink into it, but he didn't- not enough to be alarming, anyway. This was a good spot...

Snuggling down in the blankets all curled up and hugging his legs, with the pillow and plush sandwiched between the front of his torso and the back of his thighs, he sat there in quiet comfort until he finally began to doze off again...

Mystic

...This time, he's unbothered by nightmares, or even dreams. The comforting blackness of exhaustion envelops him, and for now, he's allowed to sleep in the peaceful silence of nothingness.

~*~

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#stickman #stickmanoc #stickman oc #mermaid oc #merperson #lab experiment oc #writing #original fiction #cosmic fiasco #cosmic fiasco cryptids #fedoraspooky #mysticdoodles

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blacktofade · 1 year ago

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Seems like you like gemtho, I just wanna tell you that they bickers a lot on the decked out lobby (etho teases gem about her bad rng of keys and etho immediately gets the taste of his own mockery), etho saying gem is great and more that I don't remember. They're so silly

I ADORE gemtho!!! I've been having the time of my life watching all the DO streams seeing them interact! Etho gets so giggly and it's adorable! Also sorry this took me a little while to answer. I wrote a nasty little ficlet for the girlies (gn) based on the stream moment where Gem keeps hitting Etho and they're running around together.

---

Gem’s still laughing, hand outstretched to try to hit Etho again when he grabs her by the elbow and pulls her into his Decked Out room.

There’s a pinching at her shoulders when she’s shoved against the shrubbery near the doorway, but it’s muted by the surprise that hits as Etho slips his mask down just enough to lean in and kiss her.

He’s smiling against her mouth, hands tight on her upper arms, holding her steady for the brief moment where she can’t even remember her own name. And then in a rush, she realizes what’s happening and how much she wants it, and she brings her hands up to clutch at his face in case he dares to think about pulling back.

He’s more insistent than she expects as he nudges her backward, harder into the shrubs, his hands dropping from her arms to tug at her skirt, rucking it up with an unbridled eagerness.

She feels changed knowing what it’s like to have Etho slide his palms up her bare thighs while pushing soft noises into her mouth.

He’s so desperate and it makes her feel powerful.

“I need you to stay quiet,” he pulls back to whisper, eyes bright, almost feverish, and it must be contagious because Gem feels it in her chest, burning bright.

His fingertips slip into the elastic waistband of her underwear, pulling with the kind of intent that has her glancing over her shoulder. If anyone comes close, they’ll be spotted, but being in Etho’s corner keeps them from the majority of prying eyes. No one probably even knows they’re back there, though she can still hear voices, laughter, coming from near the dungeon entrance.

“Etho,” she exhales as he sinks to his knees, dragging her underwear down with him, and he taps at one of her boots and then the other to make her step out of them.

“Quiet,” he reminds her, and then hooks one of her legs over his shoulder and eases himself beneath her skirt.

It’s probably worse that she can’t see his face and doesn’t know what to expect, because her whole body jolts at the first exploratory press of his fingers against her pussy.

She reaches down, grabbing at his shoulder as he holds her open with two fingers and rubs his thumb across her clit.

“Etho,” she gasps as loudly as she dares. “You —“

She doesn’t get to finish the thought because then Etho’s mouth is on her, hungry and unrelenting, and she stares at the ceiling, face so hot she wonders if she’ll survive long enough to come.

He eats her out as though he’s been thinking about doing it for weeks, as though he’s been waiting for her to step away from the crowd so he can get her like this.

His tongue is devastating, as quick as it always is when he speaks, and he shoves his face forward, as though trying to get as close as possible, to be able to lick into her.

She feels insane from it, still reeling from the fact that Etho wants her like this, that he's maybe thought about things like this while they've spent long, exhausting days together, taking turns in the dungeon.

Etho always emerges from his runs with a frenzied look in his eyes, especially when he's successful, when he escapes with new treasures to show off. And sometimes he'll still be breathing hard when he looks at Gem and accepts her congratulations, and it'll send a shiver of something down her spine.

She rolls her hips, just thinking about it, and she can't stand that he's hidden.

She pulls her skirt up, needing to see, and it’s easy to curl her fingers into his hair and tug, getting him to pull back, the lower half of his face wet — from her, she realizes — as he stares upwards with hooded eyes.

He looks blissed out, like this is all he’s ever wanted to do, and she lets go of his hair to card her fingers through it instead.

“You were made for this,” she whispers to him, and he nods as though she’s asked a question.

She slides her hand to the back of his head and pulls him forward again, using her other hand to spread herself for him.

The noise he lets out buzzes against her clit, and she bites her lip to keep from groaning, part of her wishing they were elsewhere, somewhere more private, so they could listen to each other.

She wants to hear him moan.

His hand shifts on her thigh, two fingers nudging at where she's so wet and easy, slipping inside with barely any effort and giving her something to squeeze around. And she does — around his knuckles, enjoying the way he fills her, wishing it was his cock instead.

She can't stare down at Etho for long, it's too much to bear, with his mussed hair, the way he's flushed up with his enjoyment. But he holds her gaze when she does, jaw working as he takes her apart, and she moves her hand away from herself to trail one fingertip across the bridge of his nose.

There's a bump there, maybe from where he's broken it a few times over the years, the cartilage not setting right. She's never seen it before, always covered by his mask, but she thinks it suits him.

He moves his head, dropping down until his nose is pressed against her, that beautiful bump brushing her clit like he knows, always too observant to not drive her insane.

"Etho," she whines as he gets his tongue back on her, and she can feel his smile against her pussy now, and she's spiraling.

He pumps his fingers slowly into her and never once looks away as she clutches at his shoulder and shakes apart under his mouth, coming so hard she's almost afraid her knees will give out.

And even then he doesn't stop, not until she pushes at his forehead, spent and bordering on overstimulated, needing him to ease up.

He turns his head, stubble rasping against her skin, and trails kisses along the inside of her thigh until he eventually reaches her knee. Carefully, he guides her leg back to the floor, smoothing down her skirt, and Gem’s whole body trembles.

Wiping his face with one hand, Etho grins up at her, and he looks so pleased with himself that it makes Gem want to ruin him.

She pulls at his jacket, dragging him to his feet, his breath ghosting over her as he laughs before she silences him with a kiss. He tastes like her, but also him, and Gem can't get enough.

She slips a hand between them, rubbing the front of Etho’s pants, where he's hard and probably aching, and all she can think about is dropping to her knees to return the favor.

But before she can, Etho reaches down, grabbing her wrist and holding her steady.

She looks at him questioningly, raising both eyebrows, and he smiles again.

“You can help after my next run,” he tells her and Gem’s mouth opens, unable to stop the laugh from bubbling out.

“Etho,” she says, and Etho cups her face with his palm before leaning in to kiss her again. It’s surprisingly sweet this time, and he laughs against her mouth once more before he pulls away, nudging his mask back into place.

Somehow, he looks the same as always. His hair is a little flyaway, but she doubts anyone would suspect a thing.

He adjusts himself in his pants and she can’t help but shake her head in disbelief.

“Are you going to wish me luck?” he asks her, stepping back toward the box where he keeps his shards.

“No, because you’re the worst,” she lies, stooping down to grab her underwear from the floor. “How about you have these as a token instead?”

She moves closer, slipping the cotton briefs into Etho’s pocket, grinning at him because two can play that game. Etho’s eyes shine like he knows he’s made the right choice.

“Have fun,” she says. “You know where to find me when you’re done.”

#gemtho #dont read at work #thing wot i wrote #fic #lovely anon #answer #hermitshipping

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seangelfish · 11 months ago

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enstars AND hypmic??? how have i not followed earlier! anyways I loved the Mayoi valentines day so so much, I was thinking if you get inspiration for it, a sequel for what happens on white day would be so cute! Happy writing mwah mwah!

- 🍰 anon

A/N: Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked that one because I tried my hardest on writing his character! I hope you enjoy this sequel~ [Edit, 4th March 2024]: So sorry this took so long for me to write, but since White Day is this month, I finally had the inspiration to do it! This is a sequel to my Valentine’s Day Mayoi x Reader fic, so please read that one before you read this one, thank you!!

Mayoi Ayase x Reader Tags: Fluff, established relationship, romance, she/her pronouns, fem reader Word count: 1,109 Summary: Mayoi prepares you something special for White Day, anxiously hoping that you'll like it...

Mayoi enjoyed spending Valentine's Day with you. It was the first time in his life he ever got to experience it like normal people would. Although you insisted on doing everything that day which resulted in him collapsing in exhaustion, he truly loved spending every second with you. The memory of you two together holding hands as you walked around the streets, trying out all the new Valentine's Day activities has been burnt into his mind. Sometimes he would catch himself reminiscing the thought as a smile formed on his face.

"Mayoi-dono, what are you thinking about?" asked Shinobu curiously. "You've been spacing out."

"S-Sorry, Chief!" Mayoi cried. "I-It's nothing!"

"Hmm, okay, but if you need help, you can always count on me!"

And in that moment, in Mayoi's eyes, Shinobu was glowing. He admired how bright and upbeat Shinobu was, but he also felt like he didn't deserve to be in his presence. That was how he felt about you too. If he thought about it hard enough, you and Shinobu were similar in a way, sharing characteristics that made him feel fluffy when spoken to. He truly appreciated that, loving every moment with the people he loved.

"Ah, t-there might be something you can help me on..." Mayoi said slowly. "It's about (Y-Y/N)..."

"(Y/N)-dono?"

"Mm. A-After Valentine's Day is White Day, no? I-I want to do something special for her on White Day, b-but I'm not sure what... I-I-I haven't done this before!"

Shinobu beamed. "I understand! I haven't done anything like that before either, but I'll do my best to help you, Mayoi-dono!"

"T-Thank you, Shinobu-kyun!"

So the two of them started researching on what to do for you on White Day. Scribbling down notes on a whiteboard, the two of them finally came to a conclusion.

"And done!" Shinobu chirped. "That's what you're going to do with (Y/N) for White Day! It's a shame that (Y/N)'s working on that day; you wouldn't have that much time with her... but that's okay! All that matters is what you gift her!"

"R-Right!" exclaimed Mayoi. "T-Thank you for helping me out, Chief!"

"Of course, Mayoi-dono! Have a good day tomorrow!"

Mayoi waited outside the ES building for you. You had gotten off work a little bit later than usual, so when you finally met up with him, you flopped into his arms, exhausted.

"Argh, that was so tiresome!" you whined. "Mayoi, please carry me home!"

His face flushed on the immediate contact. "I-I would l-love to, (Y/N), but there's s-something that I w-want to show you...!"

"Huh...? What is it?"

Mayoi didn't answer. He took your hand and gently trailed you along. He was awfully quiet the whole journey, but that was because he was extremely nervous. What if you didn't like the date he had planned for you? And what about the gifts? They weren't anything expensive, so what if you hate them? All these thoughts flooded his mind, but when he heard your voice ask him what was wrong, he snapped back into reality.

"A-Ah, it's n-nothing...!" he said. "W-We're almost there."

"Oh! What a beautiful cafe!" you beamed as the two of you finally reached your destination. "I haven't been here before. I didn't even know such a pretty place was around here."

"Mm, it recently opened up," said Mayoi calmly. "Shall we go inside?"

Still holding onto his hand, you nodded excitedly as you followed your boyfriend inside. As you sat down, Mayoi ordered. This surprised you a little because you'd usually order with him, but when he returned to you, he looked calm and collected.

"What did you order?" you asked him curiously.

"S-Some of your favourites," he replied.

And he really did order your favourites. It was like he knew you like the back of his hand. It made you smile knowing that he paid attention to your likes and dislikes.

Whilst the two of you ate, he listened to you talk about your day, eyeing your expressions and how pretty you looked. However, he was so caught up on you that he forgot to give you the gift that he worked so hard on.

But to be frank, he was withholding it, too embarrassed to even gift it to you.

"The food was so good!" you exclaimed happily, swinging your hand with his. "Thank you for treating me, Mayoi!"

"Mhm..." he replied, forcefully smiling. "I'm glad you liked it, (Y/N)..."

"Oh, it's getting late. We should go back to the dorms now."

"W-Wait!"

You stopped in your tracks. The midnight sky was splattered with specks of sparkles which complimented your eyes. Mayoi thought you looked beautiful under the stars, something he didn't think he deserved to see, but at the same time, he was thankful for it.

"I want to give you something too," he said finally. "Uhm... it's n-not much... or is it anything s-special... but I made it for you..."

From his bag, he pulled out a miniature diorama of Sakura Park where the trees bloomed pink. He had painted the sky a light shade of blue which complimented the green terrain. Everything was textured accordingly that it looked like the real thing but smaller.

But what had you amazed was the tiny figurines of you and Mayoi sitting on the bench that the two of you would usually have lunch on. It was like he recreated your memories into reality, something solid that you could touch.

"Happy White Day, (Y/N)," he said slowly so he wouldn't stutter. "I truly am in love with you, you make me the happiest, and I am thankful every day that I can be with you..."

"M-Mayoi..."

"I'm s-sorry if it wasn't much!" he continued. "B-But I hope you enjoyed today..."

You smiled. "Of course I did. Thank you so much, Mayoi. I loved everything you did for me today! I don't mind what we do, even if it's something simple, but I can't believe you made something so beautiful!" you said, admiring the diorama. "I'm going to treasure this forever!"

You had to admit, you forgot it was White Day today. Work really was getting to you, but you were able to forget that all with the help of your boyfriend – your sweet yet awkward boyfriend.

"Hah... I-I'm glad!" he sighed. "O-Oh... do you still want me to c-carry you h-home, (Y/N)?"

"Ah, you'll do that?!" you burst. "Yes please!"

As Mayoi carried you swiftly home, he carefully put you down before you kissed him on the cheek. Instantly, his face turned red, but he waved you off with a smile on his face.

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#ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #ensemble stars #enstars #fanfic #x reader #mayoi ayase x reader #mayoi ayase x reader fluff #enstars white day fanfic #enstars x y/n #alkaloid x reader #ayase mayoi x reader

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skyfallslayer · 2 years ago

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The Daughter of The (Dare)Devil - Story 10

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: A Series of stories revolving around the MCU timeline of Matt Murdock and his Daughter, Kaila. Being the child of a vigilante can be hard and scary at times, but it doesn’t mean she ain’t going to enjoy the most of it.

(Can be read as Y/N if you’d like)

Story Summary: Relieved that his daughter is finally home safe, Matt makes two life changing moves. First is to stop and help Frank Castle in any way he can; The second one? Finally asked Karen out on a date. A date that might have to get cut short when someone from his past shows up unexpectedly (Set During 2x04 & 2x05, “Penny & Dime” & “Kinbaku”).

Date: 7/26/23

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 14,016 (Y'all deserve it)

Warning: Possible OOC (?); Karedevil; The Murdocks Are Stubborn People; Angst; Heavy Language; Allusions To Mental Illness; Bullet Wounds/Recovery; Child Abuse; Blood and Gore; Violence; Heavy Injuries; Talks of Death/Murder; The Murdocks Could Use All The Hugs In The World; A Brief Near Death Experience; Matt Being Overprotective (He Needs A Warning, I think?); Past Toxic Relationship(s); Elektra Could Use A Warning Herself; Suggestive 18+ Themes; READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

- Let me know if I missed anything, please.

A/N: First off, a small apology. Like I was replying to a DM a few days ago, I don't know what really happened. Despite the fact that my laptop took a dive, I ended up on a unexpected hiatus. Which... I think was a good thing for me. It gave me enough time to take a step back after slowly becoming burnt out from writing. But I'm back! I promise I won't go MIA without saying something next time. So, sorry again! But the story you all have been waiting for has returned!

Secondly, Don't let this story fool you, I don't necessarily hate Elektra. I just don't like the fact how toxic she was for Matt and how she tried to change him after finally getting in a good place in his life. So I'm going to change Canon a little bit (Which shouldn't be a surprise since I've been doing that already). Other than that, Enjoy, my loves!

- Fifteen Years Ago -

His only comfort was the pittering of the rain against his window. He sat on his bed, feet touching the ground, his phone in hand; His finger hovered over the voice command. His mind racing over and over and over with the question of–

Should I?

He wants answers. Sure they didn’t leave on a good note, but shouldn’t she give him some kind of explanation? It’s only been two weeks, surely she hasn’t left the area already…

Right? But even a part of him knew she probably was long gone just like the cops said, yet he still held on to some kind of hope that’ll he be able just to talk to her at least once. To just ask the “simple” question of… ‘Why?’.

He rubs his face with an open hand, fingers massaging the dark circles under his blind pupils. He didn't need sight to know they were getting worse and worse everyday.

He sighs.

Loudly.

Heavily.

He let every ounce of emotion into that one.

He didn’t care.

I’m really drowning right now. And indeed he was, however–

His thoughts immediately fade away when he hears the familiar cries he’s gotten used to. Out of instinct, Matt lets his phone slip away as he slides down to the end of his bed, shifting his body down to carefully take his baby in his arms from the bassinet. He remembers how he was taught to hold his child properly, a consistent drill from the nurses and Mrs. Nelson badgered him with (mostly from Mrs. Nelson).

He shushes quietly in the attempts to calm her. “Hey, hey. Shush. You’re okay, you’re okay.” He whispers, exhaustion in his undertone.

God, he was so tired.

He whispers some more, his daughter starting to calm down into tiny whimpers. His face quirked into something bittersweet.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, wanting to stroke those little teardrops away, but he was too afraid to free one of his hands out of concern of dropping her. “I have those too sometimes.” He chuckles humorlessly. “I guess those can be hereditary.”

He still has those kinds of dreams. Memories from his childhood. All the dark shit he’s been through, he’ll see them every once a while. His father’s dying day, His time in the orphanage, His roller coaster of past relationships. It’ll take turns haunting him. Taunting him. Egging him to give back in, crawl back into that dark hole. Jump off the edge.

It eats him alive every single time.

Matt’s lip twitched. “Sorry. That was a bad joke.” He admits, trying to look on the positive side. “Although, your Uncle probably would have come up with something more corny than that. Right?”

He could feel her tiny gaze, something he was still trying to picture what it meant. Happiness? Sadness? Confusion?

He sighs. “I wish I could see you. It’ll make this easier.” So much easier. “It’ll make your life easier. I’m not going to be the… typical parent of the group. So, I’m… sorry.”

How the hell was he going to do this? How was he supposed to help her through life? Through her first steps? Through school? Through any hardships she faces? How was he supposed to help when he feels like he’s drowning?

How am I supposed to be a father when I don’t know what I’m doing? How am I supposed to be a father when I can’t even see your face?

He heard the front door open and close. The person entering was setting their bag aside and kicking off their shoes and heavy jacket before strolling over where he’s been sitting for who knows how long now. Matt could smell the sweat on his friend’s brow and a light drum beat from his chest that told him his friend had been in a hurry to get here.

“Matt?” Foggy said, peeking inside the bedroom. A look of relief crosses his face upon seeing his college buddy. “Sorry I’m late.”

Matt couldn’t help but smile at his consideration. “Nah, you’re good, Foggy.” He said, half heartedly (he just hopes he doesn't have a look of desperation plastered on). He felt those hazel eyes scanning him head to toe, concerned.

“Have you been up since this morning?” Foggy asked, remembering he had called around eight this morning. There was a pause of hesitation from the blind man before he ended up nodding. He frowns worriedly. “Matt–”

“Please, don’t lecture me.” Matt said, sounding like a little kid cowering with fear.

Foggy felt his heart hurt from it. “I wasn’t.” He promises, his frown deepening. “Have you eaten?”

Another small nod. “Yeah. I ate a little.”

“Showered?”

“No.”

“How come?”

“I…” Matt felt his chest get tight as he stumbled with his words. “Don’t want to leave the room for too long.”

Foggy couldn’t help but laugh. “Matt, you can take her in the bathroom. Just put the bassinet by the door.”

His face scrunched up. “Isn’t that weird?”

Another laugh. “Okay, how old is she again? Two months old? Even if she sees you naked she’s not going to remember.”

Matt closes his eyes to sigh. “Yeah, yeah. I guess…”

Foggy shakes his head. “You need to sometimes turn that Catholic brain of yours off, Murdock.” He replies, coming to sit down. Upon sitting he felt something underneath him and pulled out his friend’s phone. It didn’t take long to figure out what he was doing. “Did you call Mary?”

“Tried…” Matt chews on his cheek. “I uh… I just want some answers. I mean she’s… the mother so, I would think she would be… more capable at this. I mean why would she give her kid to a blind man who has no idea how–”

“Okay, going to stop you there.” Foggy butts in, hand coming to rest on the troubled man’s shoulder. “Even if you thought Mary was more capable, you’re still the father, you know? Blind or not, parenting isn't easy. Trust me. My own parents made that very clear. I’m sure your dad told you something along those lines too.”

Matt grew quiet for a second, thinking. “Yeah. I guess you have a point.” He shifts his gaze in his direction. “But it’s just… it’s frustrating. I-I can’t see so I… I-I have no idea how she’s feeling half the time. I’m scared that if I get that wrong I’m going to hurt her.”

Foggy squeezes his shoulder comfortably. “I know, man. I know.”

“And she’s… s-so tiny, Foggy.” He whispers, fearfully. “So tiny and I’m… a big guy. I-I feel like I’m… like I’m drowning because I don’t know what to do.”

Now it was his turn to get quiet. Foggy was trying to figure out how to phrase the next few words without striking too deep. “Do you regret your decision to keep her?”

“No, no, no.” Matt shakes his head. “I just… I-I love her, she’s my daughter. But there’s… times I wonder if…” He swallows. “If she would be… better not in my care.”

Those words hurt to even say, but it was true. Maybe this would have all been better if he went through with the adoption.

As the processing time ended, Matt felt Foggy’s arms wrap around his shoulders, cautious of the baby, and placed his head against him. Matt couldn’t help but lean into the touch he felt like he suddenly craved, and tried not to cry.

“Matt–” Foggy begins, his voice full of warmth and love. “You’re going to do great. Sure it’s hard, and it’s always going to be hard, but under all that exhaustion I can see how much you love this kid. You’re going to be an amazing dad.”

Matt chuckles, somewhere between disbelief and relief. “You r-really think so?” He said, swallowing again as his throat tightens.

“I know so.” Foggy pulls back. “Trust me, Buddy. I’ve seen the emotions you pack. I can already picture you picking her up on her first day of school, or helping her get a summer job, or walking her down the aisle for her big day.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “Who says she’s getting married?”

“See?” Foggy lightly slaps him in the arm, grinning. “You’re already accepting the universal dad laws. Never letting your daughter near a boy her age. You know when my niece was born, my brother was pretty much ready to lock her in a tower far, far away. Surrounded by a dragon that was fifty feet tall, which breathed hot fire.”

Matt laughed again. “Uh, not sure if Amazon sells dragons but… the tower I can find and work with.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m pretty sure New York has some of those.”

“How will I know they do?”

Foggy snorts and gives him a small shove while playfully saying his name. He finally felt a bit of success bloom when he noticed his friend’s happy face staying the same. “You’re doing great, man. But if you ever need help, Me and The Nelsons are here to help.”

Matt’s smile widens genuinely. “Thank you, Foggy.”

“Don’t even mention it.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

-Present Day-

Matt’s eyes open at the shift in the bed, he sets his blind gaze in that direction, quietly listening to see if she is awake.

She wasn’t. Good.

She needed to sleep.

It’s been about a week since the incident, and they’ve just gotten out of the hospital yesterday, and to his surprise (Well, he really shouldn’t be), his daughter wanted to stay pretty close to him for a while; Not that he was complaining. He wanted this too.

He shifted his own weight too, rolling to his side for a better view. She had gently wrapped herself in his blankets, and had carefully propped her injured leg on a pillow. His daughter finally looked like she was at peace, especially since he could tell she wasn’t suffering anymore night terrors.

Good. She doesn’t need that right now. He remembers she had one after Brett left the hospital room, her body finally giving out after the nightmarish incident. He remembers she bolted up, drenching in sweat as her heart raced a mile a minute. She was hyperventilating in a way he’s never heard before as she started muttering. ‘Where is he?’ or ‘Where am I?’. It broke his soul to her muttering, to feel her shake in his arms as he calmed her down. He never wants to go through that experience again.

I wonder if Brett’s figured anything out? The whole kidnapping situation still wasn’t adding up. Why was this… man who claims to be their first client’s brother kidnap his daughter? Because… what? Nelson and Murdock ‘failed’ him? This just didn’t sit right with him. And Matt recalls when the man said something about a Boss. Boss? What Boss? Who could this Boss be? Who wanted to hurt Matt Murdock more than the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? It just didn’t make any–

His daughter’s phone chimes loudly, the sound of a notification hit his ears quickly. Despite not being able to see it, he tries his best to reach over to the side table to hit the button to mute the sound. However his speedy actions cause a stir in his bed.

Kaila grumbles in her sleep, eye opening half lid. “Is it morning yet?”

Matt shifts back around, frowning at himself as he shakes his head. “No, no. Not yet.” He replies, gazing at her. “Go back to sleep.”

“Are you going out?”

That was like a little needle in chest, and made his face soften. “No. I’m not going out.”

“Shouldn’t you though?” She asked, dazed and confused.

“No. Not until I know you’re okay.” He brushes some of her stray hair out of her face, tucking it away gently. “Go back to sleep, baby girl.”

She hums at his touch and words, closing her eyes again, snuggling up the mattress some more. “M’kay… love you…”

He smiles. “Love you.” He waits for her to fall back to sleep before he does, closing his own eyes and forcing himself to sleep lightly for obvious reasons.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He opens the door to the light knocking, a soft smile on his face as he senses who it was. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Karen said, with a small wave and her little quirky bow of her head.

“I'm just about ready.” Matt explains letting her in and walking towards his living room to finish up.

“Okay.” She closes the door behind him, watching him closely as he struggles to finish his tie. “Uh, here, let me help with that.”

“Oh, thanks.”

She hums in reply, getting real close to help him out. She mentally curses at herself when she could hear her own heart in her ears. Now that she knew his secret, she felt embarrassed by everything she did in the past.

Karen bites the inside of her cheek, keeping her eyes on the fabric in her hand. “You feeling any better?” She asked, knowing the last few nights were rough in the hospital.

Matt nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good… Now.” He swallows and whispers as she finishes, “With you.” He felt her curious eyes on him, now he felt embarrassed by what he just said. “Uh, not that I can verify, but you seem good at this.”

She brushes off her flustered face with laughter. “Uh, well, my brother wasn't, so that's where I came in.”

“Your brother must have been lucky for you.” He soon regretted saying those words as soon as it rolled off his tongue. Matt didn’t miss the goosebumps suddenly covering her body, and how her heart rate went up three notches. He frowns, concernedly. “Karen… You okay?”

She pales. “Um–”

“I thought I heard Karen.” Kaila says, coming into the room (unknowingly saving the day). She had her backpack in hand while her free one was gripping the crutch she was given for support.

In a motherly way, the blonde comes over to take the bag. “Let me grab that. That looks heavy.” She replies, slinging it over her own shoulder despite the teen’s protests.

“I can carry it.”

“The doctor said nothing too heavy, which…” Karen gestures to the bag and makes a face. “What’s in this?”

Kaila shrugs. “I gotta keep myself entertained somehow, because I ain’t doing you guys’ paperwork when I get there.”

Karen shakes her head, turning away towards the front door. Matt comes over next while sliding his jacket on, worriedness creeping on his face.

“You feeling okay?” He asked, hearing her crack a smile.

“Yes, Dad. I’m good. A little sore, but I’m alright.” Kaila replies, honestly. “So…” Her eyes flickered to the woman by the door before back at her father. “When’s the date?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “The what?”

“The date?” She chuckles at his puzzled expression. “Come on, Dad. I see the googly eyes, and you can cut the sexual tension in here with a knife.” She jabs him in the arm as he mouth becomes agape. “So when is it?”

“There’s no date.” He says, expressionless.

“But you want there to be.”

“Uh, well–”

“She knows you’re the devil, and she didn’t run away. I’d say that’s a keeper.” She walks past him, hand patting him on the arm. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“He’s lucky to be alive.” Karen says, as Kaila holds up an x-ray of the Punisher’s skull for them to see. “This is all of the stuff that the DA’s collecting for her case. And most of it’s about the Punisher’s victims. The Dogs of Hell, the cartel... But this was in the middle of it. Not someone he shot, him.”

“He’s insane.” Foggy says, as he, and everyone in the room, looked unwell by the picture. “Maybe he shot himself.”

“But he saved me.” Kaila points out, puzzled and baffled at the same time. When she learned that this was the man that helped save her from Baldy, the man known as ‘Punisher’, she was honestly surprised by how much of a bloody trail he’s really left behind.

“I know, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t.”

“I-I thought about that, but at that close of a range…” Karen trails off, waiting for someone to finish.

Which was Matt with, “Yeah, he’d be dead already.”

“Okay, not to go all tin-foil hat here, but Tower obviously slipped this to me for a reason. What if the Punisher isn’t the worst of it? What if Reyes is trying to cover something up?”

Now it was Foggy’s turn to look surprised. “You think that murderous psychopath isn’t the worst of it?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “And I think our best shot at protecting Nelson and Murdock is to find him.”

“It’s our best shot at career suicide or just getting shot.”

“She kind of has a point, Foggy.” Matt says, hands on his hips.

Foggy blinks in disbelief. “How?”

“I owe it to Frank, alright. He saved my daughter.”

“I know that. But what if he was just trying to get something out of you? Like an IOU? Or maybe he’s trying to pin the blame on you? Have you thought of that?”

“I have. But I don’t think those options are logical.”

“How? In what way is it not?”

Matt frowns. “He told me, ‘He expects me to do the same. Father to Father’. He’s a family man, or at least he was, I get the impression.”

Foggy sighs. “Look. Even if he is, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a dangerous man that tried to kill our client and a couple other groups of people.” The phone starts ringing and he gets up. “Just think about what I said, okay? I don’t want you getting shot again.”

Karen looks Matt’s way, confused. “Shot again?”

“Uh, he…” He clears his throat, blind gaze going somewhere else. “Kind of shot me in the head when I first met him.”

Her eyes widened. “Huh?”

“It was the day you came for a visit and I was pissed at him.” Kaila replies, setting the x-ray down after gazing at it for so long. “He went temporarily deaf too.”

“You went deaf?!” Karen said, scolding. She watches him shrug sheepishly before sighing. “And I thought I was insane.”

“Welcome to having a Murdock in your life.”

She sighs again, rubbing her face. “Okay, I… I know this Punisher, or Frank, is a lunatic, but–”

“But you care, anyway?” Matt finishes.

“I wouldn’t say that, it’s more like curiosity. In between these files and… Reyes’ obsession and the fact that humans are a pretty complicated species to begin with, I just feel like there’s gotta be more to the story.”

He hums. “I think you are.”

She scoffs. “Oh, my God, you think I'm insane.”

Matt chuckles at her reaction. “I’m kidding. You’re compassionate. It’s a good quality, Karen. Stuff of saints.”

Karen frowns. “Yeah, well, I’m no saint…” She mumbles, looking away (Kaila does too for obvious reasons).

Matt, sensing something was off, replies with, “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

“Matt!” Foggy calls from his office. “We have real, live, non-criminal clients who need our help.”

“Excuse me for a second.” He excused himself and entered the room. “Tell me.”

“Mr. DiPesta defaced the elevator in his building.”

“Which, technically, makes him a criminal.”

“That’s what his slumlord, excuse me, landlord says, but look. He’s got no AC, no hot water. This has Nelson and Murdock written all over it. But we gotta file today. Kar–”

“Dad!” Kaila shouts, and the boys immediately run back to the front at a quick speed. She was standing at the door that was open. “Karen told me she’d drive me home later and then left.”

“Maybe she just stepped out for some fresh air.” Foggy suggested just as Matt suddenly had a sinking feeling.

“Did she take the files?” The blind lawyer asked, worriedly.

“I think so. She grabbed some folder quickly that I didn’t see.” Kai continues, as her father feels around her desk; His head drops immediately while sighing.

“Shit.” Foggy rubs his head.

“I have to find her.” Matt said, already shedding some of his work attire for some street clothes.

“Find Frank first.”

“Already planning on it.”

“But, Dad–” Kaila begins, watching him slide a sweatshirt on. “You didn’t bring your suit.”

“I don’t need it.”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“I’ve been waiting to pick up my new one. Reinforced alloy.”

“Which means…?” She trails off with her eyebrow raised.

And with a ghost of a smile he says,

“Which means I won’t get shot again,”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Thanks to Karen’s A+ detective work, she manages to track down George Buck, a nurse with an… interesting past experience. It took a little bit to convince him to walk along the Hudson, just a small bribe of getting coffee.

“You were with him when this was taken?” She asked, ready to jot down the mental notes in her head.

“Yeah.” He replies, nodding. “That bullet tore through his head. Not many people survive that.”

“Well, I’d like to know what you remember.”

“John Doe. Guy was a total vegetable. I guess that’s why they decided he only needed one nurse.”

“Any family or visitors?” She knew Frank was a father judging by what he said to Matt, but still wanted to know if they were still around.

“No. I mean aside from the suits.”

“Suits?”

“Yeah. Uh, sometimes men, sometimes women. You can tell ‘em ‘cause they all wear the same ear pieces. That and the black suits. Kind of like uh…” He trails off while gesturing to the open air, hoping she gets the idea.

“Got any idea who these suits were?” She asked, curiously.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Uh, but they had their run of the place and they were the ones that pushed for the, uh, the DNR.”

She tilts her head. “A ‘do not resuscitate’?”

“Yeah. They had the paperwork. And I was there when the doctor pulled the plug.”

“I…I’m confused.” This wasn’t making any sense. “You’re saying this guy died?”

“Yeah, for about a minute. It’s crazy, but they say it happens sometimes. You know, one minute, flatline, then boom.” George’s eyes widened with the shock that was still there. “His heart starts back up again. On its own. He just didn’t wanna die. Within ten minutes of being awake… h-he reaches up and grabs my scrubs, yanks me down, and says, real close ‘Take me home’.” He frowns, guilty. “I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve known it’d get me fired.”

Now this got her interest peaked even more. “His home.” She tests out, hopeful. “Do you have an address?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

As the sun finally kissed the sky goodnight, Frank was reliving his gut wretched past. He could still hear the music from the carousel; His children’s laughter; His wife’s beautiful words.

All of it.

The lights of the morbid thing only go off when the ride stops and everyone walks away with a smile on their face. Now all he sees is the silhouette that haunts him in his dreams. And with his extra sense, Frank quickly notices the mysterious man sitting on the next bench over, grinning like the son of a bitch he was.

“Nice night.” Is what he said, causing the ex-soldier some confusion. Before Frank could say anything, the man, who’s name was Rory, flashed the gun in his belt and replied, “I’m not alone.”

Right on cue people were coming in every direction, an expressionless feature greeted him.

Rory continues to boast saying, “You wanna come with us? Or you wanna make a mess?”

Frank, wasting no time, goes for him and starts beating him up, not caring that Rory had stuck some kind of needle into his neck. Rory’s guys move in only for Frank to take them all out with a single bullet each. But as soon as he thought the fight was over, someone knew entered the ring and shot his challenger.

The Punisher stumbled on his own two feet as the sedative kicked in, but his spirit wouldn’t be broken yet until he knew who this other person was.

The Irish gang leader, Finn, strolls over with his own set of individuals, looking more cocky than the man before. “Well, thanks for thinning out the herd. You’re surrounded, son. Now be a good lad and drop the iron.” He says, just as his men pointed their laser at his prey’s chest. “Come on. You seem like a smart one.”

With strong will, Frank tries to advance, only to be shot with various tasers and rendered unconscious.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt waited until he came out from the crime scene from the Irish themed bar. He stayed in the vibrant black and red light, ignoring the gun that was trained on.

“I need to know what happened here.” Sounds more like a demand than a question.

Mahoney looks behind him, nervously. “I’m not telling you shit.” He whispers, harshly. “You helped us catch Fisk, that don’t make us friends.”

“Was this the Punisher?”

“Jesus. The Irish, okay? To find the Punisher. They put a bounty on his head. Now people all over the Kitchen are getting hurt. It’s the goddamn Wild West out there.”

“Have the Irish found him?”

“As long as we keep getting calls like this, I guess not.” Mahoney watches as the vigilante seems satisfied with his answer, and was about to leave, although the cop was concerned for his safety. “Hey, stay out of it. You hear me?”

“I just wanna help, Sergeant.”

“No, you can’t help this one.”

“We’re on the same side, you and I.”

“Listen, You’re–”

‘2-Adam, shots fired. 65th Street transverse, by the carousel. All units to back.’

Mahoney touches his radio, eyes moving away. “Fifteen Sergeant responding, Central.” He replies, just as Matt makes his move to leave. Once seeing this, he couldn’t help but shake his head.

Jesus, Murdock. Stay out of this for once.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The window rolled down completely to see Foggy’s smugged face. “Ah, look who finally showed up. Did Cinderella really want to go to the ball that bad?” He asked as Karen sighed apologetically.

“I’m really, really sorry, Foggy.” She says, honest.

“It’s okay, just remember, we’re your friends. We worry.” He says, as she apologizes again. “It’s okay. Seriously. But don’t run off like that again. I’m still technically your boss.”

Karen snickers. “Alright, Boss man, I’ll remember to ask.”

“Thank you, my lovely co-worker.” He smiles and gestures for the teenager to come over. “Ready, K-Pop?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Kaila replies as he opens the passenger door. “Thanks.”

“Sure you don’t want a ride?” Karen asked, as he shook his head.

“No thanks. You know I live in the opposite direction.” Foggy said, waving them goodbye. “I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”

The girls wave back as he takes a few steps down the sidewalk looking for a cab. As the young Murdock starts putting her seat belt on, she could see the blonde’s mind practically racing over something. It especially was clear when she was gnawing on her bottom lip and her fingers lightly drum the steering wheel.

You can really never turn that Reporter brain of yours off, huh Karen?

“You ready?” The blonde asked with a ghost of a smile.

Kaila tilts her head, feeling her out. “You’re taking me back home, right?”

“Yeah.” Karen said, nodding.

The teenager raises a knowing eyebrow. “But I can tell you don’t want to.” She says, ignoring Karen’s shocked face. She sighs and rolls the window back down, poking her head out just enough to still see her Uncle. “Hey, Foggy!”

The man perked up at his name just as he was raising his hand for a cab. He wastes no time to jog back over, concern on his features. “What’s up?”

“Get in.” Kaila jerks her head towards the backseat. “We’re breaking and entering.”

Those hazel eyes of his batted quickly, bafflingly. “What?”

“I said, get in the car. We’re going to need a lawyer if this goes south.”

“...What–”

“Just get in the car, Foggy.” Kaila said a bit more stern, which managed to get his ass in the back seat, muttering about what was going on. She pays no heed to him for a second and looks back at Karen who still had the same exact look on her face from a moment ago. “All yours, Cap.”

“Huh?” Karen looks between the teenager and the road ahead of her, debating. “Kai, I really shouldn’t–”

“Listen. I don’t really know who he is, but he saved my life. Whatever you have in mind, we owe it to him.” She smiles bittersweetly. “It’s the least we can do. Right?”

Karen took a minute to let it sink in, before putting her game face back on and taking the car out of park. While she starts pulling away, their guest in the back still seemed clueless about what this really was.

“What exactly is going on here?” Foggy asked, watching as the two girls give each other a look before deciding on a way to spill it to him.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Rory did his best to pretend to be dead, but once the Irish took away the Punisher, he made his move.

Somewhat.

His leg was dead weight from the bullet wound, so his only option was to crawl across the grounds around the carousel. He was using all the adrenaline he had to make his getaway, but that dream seemed short lived when the Devil was suddenly peering down at him. He was soon pinned against the ride, his wrist broken so fast when he tried to use his gun, causing him even more agony than necessary.

“Who did this?” Daredevil snared, still holding a nice grip on the man’s wrist.

Rory clenches his jaw as he tries to catch his breath. “People you don’t mess with.”

With the subtle tilt of his head, he replies, “You’re bleeding out. And I got all night.”

“Go to hell!!”

Matt twists his arm, getting him to cry again. “Who did this?”

“The one they call Punisher.”

“Where is he?”

Rory lets out a laugh. “It doesn’t matter ‘cause when we’re done with him, he’s as good as dead.”

Matt mentally sighs, “That’s helpful.” He mumbles, and twists a bit more, causing a louder scream. “But it’s not what I asked.”

His voice grows darker just as the sirens around them become louder and louder; and with a look of fear in his eyes…

Rory spilled everything.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

So this is the Castle family’s house? The trio was thinking as they parked their car across the street before trekking along the darkness to the back door.

“So, what are we doing here again?” Foggy asked, feeling like he was still in the dark about everything.

“We’re going to find anything that can help us with understanding Frank.” Karen explains, surveying the area.

“And how are we going to find something by looking at a house?”

“Because we’re going to be looking…” She slowly gestures to the back door. “Inside the house.”

His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“What– Karen, we can’t just–” Foggy trails off when he notices the teenager, crouching down carefully and jiggling a lock with a bobby pin. With a disapproving touch of his hand on her shoulder, he says, “Uh, excuse me, young lady. How do you know how to do this?”

Kaila smirks. “Remember that ‘secret’ candy drawer in your apartment?”

“Yeah…” He gasps quietly. “You were the one stealing from there?! Why?”

“Because–” She shrugs. “I wanted candy and you weren’t giving me any.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “You’re in so much trouble. I interrogated a lot of people over that!”

“Yeah, and I lied. Sorry,” She pauses for a second. “Huh, and my dad knew the whole time.”

“You’re so grounded.”

She continues jiggling the lock until they hear a small ‘click’. She grins, standing up and grabbing her crutch as she moves inside, the other two following swiftly. The first thing they noticed beside the darkness was how cold the house was, and how you couldn’t hear anything. It made them all get goosebumps and a slight shock up their spines.

All having the same idea, Karen, Foggy and Kaila slowly start walking around the house with their phones’ flashlights. Going from the kitchen in the back to the main area. When they slowly start to make things out, Karen pulls a tissue from her purse, carefully grabbing and examining things as Foggy looks around, paling.

“This is really eerie, Karen.” Foggy replies, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“Well, I wasn’t really expecting a picnic in here either.” She says, feeling the same way.

But to add more to their emotions, the three of them nearly jolted out of their own skins when Kaila’s crutch hit a small toy frog on the floor, activating it.

“Jesus…” Kaila muttered, holding her chest before sighing with relief. “What was that?”

Foggy shines the light where he heard it land, frowning. “It’s a wind up toy.” Then the realization hit. “Oh, God… He really was a father.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt arrives at the scene just as Frank manages to get himself untied and kill Finn while muttering a very… interesting phrase. He knocks out the two that would have put a few more bullets into Castle’s brain before cautiously walking towards him, but there was still a concerned aura around him.

Frank’s face twitched in anger. “They’re gonna pay. Every single goddamn one of ‘em.” He spews with boiling venom.

“They will.” Matt agrees before shaking his head. “But not tonight. Move. And no killing.”

Frank gives him a glare. “Altar boy.” He replies before grabbing something he could use as a weapon.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After a while, it was starting to become more and more heavy. It hit even harder when they came across the table filled with very depressing items. It made the whole situation worse than they thought.

Kaila stares at all the bouquets of flowers sent with condolence cards. The cards were addressed to none other than Frank Castle himself. She finds herself feeling very teary eyed.

“This is really…” She trails off, heart hurting. She couldn’t find the right word to say. Losing your entire family? In one night? She could only imagine what this must feel like.

So this is why Frank wanted to help my dad.

“I guess this explains his actions as the Punisher.” Karen said, standing next to her, looking the same. “I guess anyone would do the same thing in his shoes…”

“No shit.”

“Looks like he was a war hero, too.” Foggy calls out to them, getting them to turn around to face the wall of memorabilias. Sure enough there was Frank in uniform in several pictures, and a couple of his metals were on display. “And this is where his sniper skills come from.”

“Now it all makes sense.” Karen said, looking over them carefully, imprinting the images in her head.

“True. But–”

On cue, the three of them immediately turned their flashlights off when a vehicle pulled in front of the house. The headlights powered off just as Karen decides to take a peak. And just like the nurse from earlier was describing, here comes both men and women in black suits strolling out of the yellow van.

“Shit…” She whispers, letting go of the curtain.

What the fuck do we do now?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

On the other side of town, after an intense battle for their lives, Matt found himself carefully setting down a heavily injured Frank Castle against a tombstone. The man grunted at the way his body seemed to mold against it, his adrenaline finally wearing off.

“Hey.” Frank begins, panting. He spares the blind man a glance. “Not bad.”

“Thanks.” Matt said, breathing through his nostrils.

“I guess I, uh… I guess I was wrong.”

A tilt in his head. “About?”

“About you being a pussy.”

“Don’t get all sweet on me now, Frank.” Matt said, getting a laugh which soon turned into a coughing fit. He frowns worriedly. “Help’s on the way.”

“Nah.” Frank shakes his head. “You should go. I’m past saving. At least I’d have company, right?” A sigh. “I think I might cash out. You’d have made a hell of a Marine, Red.”

There was a twinge of guilt as he could hear the sincerity from his voice. Although Frank was the definition of ‘rough around the edges’, he could still see the soft and wonderful man he really was underneath.

It made Matt feel like shit to even think about.

“That rhyme. What's it mean?” Matt asked, genuinely curious while crouching down.

This catches Frank off guard for the first time in a while. “What’d you say? …Huh?”

“The thing you say. Right before you pull the trigger.”

“What do you… You heard that?”

“Well, when you’re a blind man, your other senses get heightened so… yeah, I heard it.”

Frank blinks in disbelief. “What the…” He sighs, not even going to question it. “I gotta say, sometimes... Sometimes I think you really just might be the devil.”

Matt nods in agreement. “Sometimes I think I might be, too.”

“It’s, uh…” Frank begins, already getting choked up. “One batch, two batch. Penny and dime, you know. It was her favorite book. You know, you… You gotta cross the ocean… and go fight. You see… whole time you’re thinking you’re gonna be scared, right? But then, you’re not. See, that part of it was always easy for me. Killing. Even watching my buddies die, it just… it didn’t mean nothing.”

His face twitches. “The first time I got scared was on a plane on the way home. I kept thinking God was gonna pull the rug out from under us, you know? Shit, that’s his kind of funny, you know. But the plane landed safe and we were home. Driving through traffic. Yeah, you pass fast food and donut shops and all that… that greasy shit. It’s the shit you fought to protect and then the car stops. We were outside her school. I get to her classroom, right?”

Frank keeps going as Matt slowly sinks himself into the ground, listening wholeheartedly. “She’s in there… but she’s got no idea.” His dark eyes glisten with tears. “She’s got no idea that Daddy’s home. I walk in, these kids, they’re not even studying, they’re–” He chuckles. “Doing some kind of yoga. Yeah. You know? She’s there. She’s doing her poses, you know. She’s bending and, you know, she’s moving. She looks like a flower. Yeah. And, you know, you can’t even understand it, you know, how does something like that have... How does something that beautiful– How does that… does that come from me, you know? I know you probably do. Don’t you?”

Matt nods. “Yeah. I do.” He could relate to that. Sometimes his daughter was so pure compared to him. So innocent despite the things she’s seen. It hurts a lot to think about sometimes.

Frank smiles brightly. “And she looks up and she sees me. I see her. By God, that’s real. That’s real, Red. Boom. In an instant, she’s across that classroom floor, she’s in my arms. She’s squeezing me so tight, I swear I was gonna bust a rib, you know? We just stayed there like that, we’re holding each other. Teacher, she’s filming the whole thing on her phone, you know, she’s gonna put it on YouTube or some shit. She can’t hold the thing steady, because, you know, she’s… she’s bawling so hard, and the kids are all wailing, you know, they’re screaming. And me? Shit, I’m the worst of all. I’m a… I’m a rubber-face clown, you know. I cried so hard.”

He looks up to the sky, trying to hold the floodgates from opening. “But not my baby. Not my girl. You know, she’s my girl. She’s… She’s not crying, she’s holding me up. My girl, she’s keeping me on my feet.” He sucks in a shaky breath. “She says, ‘I knew it, Daddy. I knew it.’ And then we go home. Wife, the boy. Place is the exact same. It’s like it was just holding its breath waiting for me to get back, you know? Then it hit me.”

Now he sounds desperate. “All of it, you know. The first time I felt how tired I was, you know, I was just tired, you know? You… Y-You ever been tired, Red?”

“Yeah.” Matt nods, sadly, knowing that feeling so very well. He’s known it his entire life.

“So, you know. It’s just, I couldn’t do nothing, you know?” Frank's lip quivered. “All the things… I couldn’t take my wife to bed. Ball with the boy. Shit, I was too tired, I couldn’t even drink a goddamn beer, you know. But not her. My girl was up. See, she wanted me to, uh… she wanted me to tuck her in. She… She outgrew it, she knew it, but she didn’t care. She wanted it. She had that book. Her favorite book was out on the pillows.

“‘One Batch, Two Batch Penny and Dime’. Yeah. I read her that book every night before this shit. I read it every single night, but, see, that was over now because Daddy’s home now. She looked at me and she begged me, Red. She begged. She begged. I said, ‘No… Daddy’s too tired, see. But I’ll… I’ll read to you tomorrow night. I’ll read to you tomorrow night, I promise’. Yeah. Never think that… for her there was not gonna be any tomorrow, see. The last time I’d see her, I’d be holding her lifeless body in my arms. Meat was spilling out of her, Red. The place where her face used to be.”

Frank casts a glance at the vigilante, pity on his features. “As much as I hated you for interfering with my work… I couldn’t stand the thought of another father going through that. I don’t think I could stand seeing you holding your daughter in your arms like that. Wailing like a baby, praying that the clock would turn back and the bullets would come for you instead. I didn’t want that for you.” He sighs, letting go of everything. “No. I think I’m done, Red. I think I’m done.”

Matt opens his mouth to speak, but a cop car pulls up with two officers hopping out, drawing their guns from their holsters.

“Police.” Brett said, walking at them at a steady pace. “Don’t move. Hands where I can see ‘em.” He sounded and seemed so disappointed. “Shots fired. Bodies, mayhem and shit. How come I just knew you weren’t going to listen?”

“I have something for you, Sergeant.” Matt said, standing up and giving them a view of the Punisher.

“That’s him?” Brett asked, getting a nod. “Cover him and get EMS.”

“Yep.” His partner replies, and moves around the Daredevil for the other man.

“And you, you incredible pain in my ass.” Brett continues, sheathing his gun as he makes the man before him kneel, hands behind his back. “I really wished you listened.”

“Get him help.” Was Matt’s reply.

“Shut up.” He starts pulling out his handcuffs. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Take the collar.”

Brett falters his movements. “What?”

“You heard me.” Matt replies with a bite. “You caught him, not me. It can’t be me, it has to be you.”

“Why?”

“To protect the Kitchen. For law, for order.”

“You’re telling me how to file a report now?”

“Yeah.” Matt scoffs. “Take the collar. Take the credit. Get a promotion, if you can. You’ve earned it.”

Brett purses his lip. “Bullshit.”

“No, people have to know the system works. Not his justice and not mine. Vigilante days are done in this town. The police are in charge.”

“That’s not how it happened.”

“Then make it how it happened.”

The cop closes his eyes, realizing he is speaking the truth. “Shit…”

“EMT and backup on the way. Two minutes out.” The other officer calls out.

Brett sighs, and pulls Matt up from the ground. “Go. Go!” He shouts, making the devil run off into a sprint, leaving him with a newfound understanding.

Now I really know that’s you, Matt. A smile graced his lips for a split second just as thunder rumbled the sky and rain started to fall.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Miraculously, the troublesome trio somehow got out of the house without being seen. Which ended up being Karen taking Kaila’s crutch from her hand, and Foggy throwing the girl over his shoulder like a shake of potatoes. On the drive back was a mixture of anxiety and small bickering. How in the world are they going to explain this to their vigilante friend? As Foggy puts it, they’re ‘so fucked’.

But they eventually could release a breath of relief as they arrived back in the city, and back on route to where they were supposed to have gone in the first place. And despite their protests, the exhausted teenager went inside the apartment alone as the adults watched from the car.

“Think she’ll be okay by herself?” Karen asked, being a mother hen she was.

Foggy nods. “She should be fine. She’s just going to sleep.” He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Matt’s going to be so pissed when I tell him what she can do. Fuck. He’s going to be pissed at all of us.”

“I’ll take the blame again.”

“Oh, hell yeah you are.”

Suddenly her phone starts to ring, a picture of Matt appears along with his favorite song.

Oh, yes…

Perfect timing Mr. Daredevil.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After picking up their important guest, who had slipped a long coat over his costume, he had Karen drive them all back to the same apartment, watching/listening to the “news of the year” on the phone:

‘Frank Castle, the gunman wanted in connection with the Metro-General shooting and linked to dozens of recent gangland-related killings throughout Hell’s Kitchen was apprehended just hours ago outside Saint Michael’s Cemetery. An NYPD spokesman says, “Tonight, New York has Sergeant Brett Mahoney of the 15th Precinct to thank”.’

“Gotta hand it to Brett. He seems to follow you wherever you go.” Foggy replies, sending a look at Matt from the backseat.

Matt ignores that jab and says, “I’m glad people like him are looking out for Hell’s Kitchen.”

Foggy chuckles. “Yeah.”

“And I’m glad someone was looking out for him.”

“Oooh… I wonder who.”

“Press are calling Castle ‘a cold-blooded psychopath’.” Karen said, scoffing. “The DA’s gonna have a hell of a time using his prosecution to turn herself into a hero. It’s all working out perfectly.”

Now it was Matt’s turn to laugh. “Wow, way to bring us down, Ms. Page.” He says, smirking. “I think we've had enough Punisher for one evening. We’ll worry about the rest tomorrow.”

“Amen to that.” Foggy agrees, and Karen sighs again (Only Matt noticed something underlining there).

“You okay?” Matt asks, hearing her shift in her seat.

“Yeah.” She breathes, just as his eyebrows shoot up, not buying it. “Okay, that wasn’t convincing, was it? Um, I don’t know, I just, uh days like today remind me how precious life can be, you know?”

Matt and Karen exchange loving glances and that’s when Foggy, who was grinning like an idiot, made up an excuse to leave.

“You know what? My apartment’s kind of far. I-I should get a cab.” He explains as he starts gathering his things.

“A cab?” Karen asked, confused. She swears she convinced him earlier it was okay for her to drive him. What changed?

“You know we don’t mind driving you.” Matt adds as his friend shakes his head.

“Nah, that’s okay. Cab’s fine.” Foggy continues.

“It’s raining.”

“A little rain never hurts anyone.” He smiles and clasps a hand on each of their shoulders. “Well, you two have fun, have a drink for me, maybe play a board game, and try to keep it PG with your daughter in there. Okay? Goodnight!”

He wiggles himself out of the car with his belongings, leaving the two of them staring in disbelief…

Before both turning beat red.

Karen buries her face in her hands. “Oh, Foggy…” She said, making them both chuckle. “Uh… should we… um…?

“...ignore… him?” Matt says slowly.

“Uh, y-yes? Maybe?” She starts hearing him laugh again. “I don’t know.”

“Uh, m-me neither. So…”

“You… Um…” She fiddles with her hands. “Actually…”

He tilts his head. “Something you want to tell me?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, I’ll tell you tomorrow. Promise.”

He smiles. “Okay.”

“I’ll walk you inside.”

The two of them get out of the car, Karen taking him by the hand and pulling him towards the door. The warm rain soaking them immediately, but neither of them minded. They walked the concrete path, touching the edge of the steps with their toes when Matt suddenly tugs them both to a stop. The atmosphere was so light and comforting; It made them feel like they were on cloud 9.

Matt’s fingers ghosted her arm, trailing seductively up to her shoulder as she quietly gasped at his touch. Finally he cupped her cheek, some of her golden locks getting entangled, trapping his fingers like a spiderweb. And with hope in both of their eyes, both of them leaned in for a (long overdue) blissful kiss. Short and sweet, but it was breathtaking, exhilarating. And when they broke apart, they let their foreheads rest against each other, smiling.

“Can I take you to dinner?” Matt asks as he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Yes.” She replies, happily.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

His smile grew, his chest feeling a thousand times lighter now. “Goodnight, Karen.”

She mimicked him at this very moment as well. “Goodnight, Matt.”

With a new pep in her step, she heads back to her car which was just the cue Matt was waiting for to head back inside. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he climbed the stairs and entered his home. Setting his things by the door, he starts heading in the direction of his room. If his daughter was still up then–

Oh, boy. He thought, only imagining what her reaction would be when he tell her the news.

Kai’s going to have a field day with this one.

But just as his hand was reaching for the door handle, his senses suddenly caught onto something. He jolts in his stance, spinning around with his fists up, ready to fight. He tunes in on a figure -a woman- in his kitchen, twirling with one of his knives. With that sweet, sweet voice of poison he remembers so very well, she says,

“Hello, Matthew.”

With his heart in his throat he croaks, “Elektra.”

Her sharp eyes stayed on him for a while before she stopped her movements to take a swig of the drink she stole from the fridge. “Mmm! German beer. Tastes like piss.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” He says, lowering his hands slightly, focusing completely on her.

“You’ve never been hard to find.”

He clenches his jaw. “That’s not what I asked.”

“At least your furniture’s improved.” She said in her attempt at small talk. She sets the bottle down and starts making her way over.

“Kinda liked my old futon.”

“I liked breaking it in.” She says, seductively. “Nice place. Too bad about the clothes, though.”

He holds his hand up, a sign she took for her to stop as she entered the living area. “Why are you here?”

She sighs. “Would you believe it if I said I missed you?”

Not missing a beat he says, “No.”

“Smart man. Columbia education really paid off.”

“No thanks to you.” He bites back.

She chuckles. “I’m in New York for a meeting. I thought I’d pop by.”

“Well, you’re not staying here, so…”

“Fine.” She shrugs. “My penthouse in midtown will just have to do, then. We spent some nights there.”

He mentally cusses, holding back an eye twitch. “Look, if you came here to walk down memory lane, I don’t really have the–”

“I’m sorry. I’ve spent years trying to convince myself that things happen for a reason, that you and I were not meant to be. But I know now. That wasn’t fate. It was a choice. My choice. And I’m sorry. I’m alone in the world, Matthew. Do you know what that feels like?”

Matt scoffs in disbelief. “No.”

She seemed disappointed. “Of course you do. You–”

“I really don’t.” He snaps, bitterly, honestly. “Not in a long time I haven’t.”

Elektra sighs. “Well, you must know what it’s like to clean up your father’s messes. A long time ago, before he died, my father did business with the Roxxon Corporation.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “Roxxon?”

“Energy, cleaning supplies, macaroni and cheese. Child labor, slave trade. They have their fingers in everything. I believe it’s called diversification. And thanks to my father’s shitty investments, they hold most of his wealth.”

“Yeah, okay. I–”

“I have a meeting tomorrow with the board at the Yakatomi Building. And I need your help, Matthew.”

“How am I supposed to help you?” He asked, puzzled.

“I want you to use that expensive legal training of yours to help me get my money back–”

“See, I’m a defense lawyer.”

“I’ll pay you well.”

Matt laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not taking your money. And, even if I accepted, there’s not enough time.”

“For what?” Elektra asked, confused.

“Oh, just research. Accounts, shareholders, hierarchy of the–”

“You have fifteen hours.”

He blinks. “Fifteen hours, Elektra, are you insane?”

“Matthew.” She sighs his name. “You’re the only person I–”

She trails off like she suddenly listening for something, and Matt was puzzled on what until–

Nobody could miss the way he tenses and holds his hands up. “Elektra.” He starts warning, as he could hear her gripping the kitchen knife. “Wait– Don’t!!”

He manages to snag the knife midair just as the bedroom door slide opens, his quick action startling his poor kid. He winces as soon as the blade makes contact with his skin, and lets it go immediately.

“Shit!” He cusses, blood pooling from his open palm.

“Are you okay?!” Kaila gasps, shifting her weight onto her good leg as she tries to look at his injury.

“Matthew?” Elektra’s voice broke through making him stiff up again. “Who’s that?”

He hides his pain quickly, and uses his non-injured hand to push his kid behind him. “You need to leave.” He said, stern and underlining cold.

Kai casts a glance at him. “Dad?” She whispers, scared.

Elektra looks between the two, puzzled. “Dad?” She asked, hurt in her face as she looked at her ex. “You have a daughter?”

“Dad, who’s is–”

“You need to leave. Now.” Matt repeats, tougher.

“Since when did you have a kid?” Elektra asked, pain in her voice as steps closer. “And with whom?”

Matt pulls his daughter completely behind, a subtle sign to tell her to stay back. “Does that even matter?” He asked, not even letting her answer. “You have no right to ask me that. Leave.”

“Matthew–”

“Leave.”

If anyone else was in her place they would have trembled under his tone of voice alone; But even Elektra, who claims she knows the real him, seemed taken back. Not even saying another word, she left out the front door like she was a guest and not someone who trespassed (which seemed to piss Matt off more than it should have). Matt almost didn’t want to relax, he knows she’ll come back. She always does. She always seems to–

Kaila nearly fell to the ground if he hadn’t been standing there. Her name passed by his lips quickly as he caught her, leaning her against him.

“Why are you walking on your own? Where’s your crutch?” He asks, getting them both settled down on the bed.

“I kind of leaped out of bed ‘cause of concern.” She replies, before grabbing a gentle hold onto his wrist. “Your hand.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think I need stitches.”

She stares at his palm, carefully feeling around the cut to confirm his words before asking, “Who is she?”

He frowns, slightly ashamed. “She uh, is an old… flame of mine. Second year. My uh… party boy era.”

“Party boy era?” She watches him nod. “You told me some stories. But you never mention a girlfriend.”

“She’s… not my proudest accomplishment.”

Kaila frowns, sadly. “Was she before my mother?”

“Before Mary, yeah.”

“So what happened with… her?”

He sighs. “After a while, she started doing stuff that… I didn’t like. The last thing she did was pretty awful. When I comforted her about it, she yelled at me and then disappeared. That’s the last time I ever saw her.”

“Damn.” Kaila muttered. “That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Well…” She starts leaning forward to grab the first aid kit under the bed. “You might have dodged a bullet there, dad.” She pulls out some disinfectant wipes and a gauze. “She seems… violent.”

Matt chuckles dryly. “Very.” His expression fades back into worriedness. “You’re not going to ask more questions?”

“I’ve heard enough. You told me enough.” She starts looking around for her phone. “Besides–” She snags it off the end of the nightstand. “If there’s more to what you need to tell me you will. But if it doesn’t affect our lives, then I’m not worried about it.”

She smiles up at him, and he couldn’t help but copy her.

“I really lucked out with you as my daughter, Kai.” Matt said, making her snort.

“Well, that’s good, ‘cause you’re stuck with me. Here–” She hands him her phone that had the flashlight on. “Hold this up for me.”

“Can do.” He lets her do her thing, taking this small moment and cherishing it despite the circumstances leading up to it. “Thank you, Dr. Kaila.”

She smirks. “Hey, that’s Dr. Murdock for you, sir.” Kaila replies, cheeky just finishing up. “‘Least it was your non-dominant hand.”

“And I’m grateful for that.” He says, handing the device to her. Just as he does, the teenager’s phone buzzes and he feels her gaze immediately lock with it, disappointment registering on her face. Matt latches onto this quickly. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s… nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like it. You seem… upset.” He uses his non-injured hand to tilt her head towards him. “What’s wrong?”

She frowns. “It just… I met someone at work–”

“You met someone?”

“A friend. His name is Jayden–”

“His name?”

She rolls her brown eyes. “Dad, stop.”

“Sorry.” He apologizes. “Continue.”

“Anyway, we started talking and texting one another, and we even made plans to hang out, however I got… you know… kidnapped.” Her frown deepens as she crosses her arms. “He texted me if I was okay, I said I was, and then… that’s it. He hasn’t responded to any of my texts. It’s… weird.” A sigh. “Do you think I did something wrong?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Of course not.”

“Then how come he’s ignoring me?”

“Well… maybe he doesn’t know how to respond after what happened to you. Maybe it just feels awkward for him. It’s not everyday that someone’s friend gets kidnapped.”

Kaila nods slowly, processing his words. “True.”

“He’s also probably taken back by how you responded. To him, you might have sounded… too okay with a text. It might have been different if you two would have talked on the phone or face-to-face.”

“True.”

“Just give him some time. If he doesn’t respond, maybe try giving him a call. Okay?”

She sighs. “Okay. You’re right.”

“Good.” He says, as a smile starts to grow. “Well, on the bright side–” He nudges her a bit. “I’ve got good news.”

“What?”

“Your old man might have… put a move on a certain blonde tonight.” A gasp. “And I might have asked her to dinner tomorrow.” Another gasp. “And she might have said yes.”

She squeals. “Dad, that’s awesome!” She shouts, making him laugh. “Awe. Do you have something to wear? Or do we need to go shopping? Or–”

“Kai–”

“We could go to that new tailor store up the road. Or we could go into town square for the day.”

“Kai–”

“What about places to eat? Do you have any idea where you’re going to take her?”

“Kai–” He laughs again at her enthusiasm and grabs her by the forearm to stop her. “Relax. You’re way more excited about this than I am.”

“Sorry.” She said, blushing. “You haven’t been on a date in a long time. One that you actually seem happy for.”

“Well, I…” Now it was his turn to get red. “I like Karen. She makes me feel… good. Happy. Warm.”

“Awe.” Kaila threw her arms around his neck. “I’m glad you feel that way. Although… I can’t believe Karen of all people is trying to take my number one spot with you.”

Another laugh. “Oh… baby girl–” He kisses her temple. “You'll always be my number one.”

And that was the absolute truth.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Morning.” Kaila said, as she and her father entered the office the very next day.

Foggy smiles, eyes still glued to the newspaper he was currently reading. “Murdocks.”

“We, uh, have anything for breakfast?” Matt asked as he started pouring himself a glass of water from their filter.

Foggy raises an eyebrow. “You hungry or hungover?”

A brief pause. “Both.”

Kaila gives him a look as she sits down. “Since when did you have a drink last night?” She asked, and got a shrug in return.

Foggy chuckles. “All right, you need some potassium, some electrolytes, and a jolt of caffeine. I’ll give you, uh…” He looks around before snapping his fingers at something. “-The last piece of Mrs. DiNizio’s peach cobbler, which is… the last piece of anything in this office.”

“I guess our finances haven’t improved since last week.” Matt said, frowning.

“Yeah, well, clients don’t respond well to a ‘closed’ sign.”

Kaila looks between the two, concerned. “Should… I be worried?”

Her father sighs and shakes his head. “No, baby girl, don’t… it’s my fault. I’m sorry, Foggy.”

“Don't be.” Foggy replies, taking a seat next to his niece, still reading. “You got Punisher off the street. I’m hoping Reyes will get her jackboot off our neck and this office can go back to normal.”

“Can you though?” Kai said, getting their attention. “I mean with everything we’ve gotten entangled with… can we be normal again?”

Before the boys could process her words, Nelson and Murdock’s last employee finally arrived.

“Matt–” Karen enters the room, startling herself as she tries to balance a tray full of beverages. “Uh, good morning.”

“Hey, Karen.” Matt said, a little smile ghosting his face.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Uh, not so much. You?”

“Me?” She slurred, closing the door with her elbow. “Yeah, sure. Uh, I-I mean–”

“Is that coffee I can smell?” He said, feeling his heart race.

“Hmm?”

“Coffee.”

“Uh, yeah, um… Yeah, arabica for all.” She chuckles and starts handing the cups over. “For everyone.” She hands over the last one for Kai. “Uh, Chai for you.”

The teenager’s eyes light up with happiness. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Yeah, Thanks. You’re a goddess.” Matt said, still grinning.

“Okay, you two.” Foggy cuts in, still smiling like a goof. “Let’s talk business. Potential clients. Real ones. With bank in the bank.”

“Uh, actually, yeah, can we, uh, talk about these first?” Karen asked, holding up some paper. The boys follow her as she stands behind her own desk. “The, uh, press is still painting Castle like he’s nothing more than some deranged lunatic.”

“Well, it’s not like our boy was out collecting for the Red Cross.” Foggy points out, even after knowing what he discovered last night.

“I know. I know, but–”

“You think there’s more to the story.” Matt finishes, already knowing this was going to be true (everyone did).

“Exactly. I mean, five different papers and not a word about the bullet he took to the brain, or his military record, or his family.” She continues, running a hand through her locks. “So we know what he said last to you about his daughter was true. W-We found this photograph. It’s of him and his wife and kids at the carousel–”

“We?” The Blind man asked, confused. “You mean…” He points between his friends. “The two of you?” He didn’t miss the way their heartbeats flickered. “You guys found it where, exactly?”

“W-We… sort of broke into his house last night.”

“Broke in? Last night you–” He trails off at a realization, and with a steady expression he turns in his daughter’s direction who was nervously sipping her drink.

She eventually just shrugs. “Murdock curse…?”

“I… shouldn’t even be surprised at this point.” Matt said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anyway, I get what you were trying to do, but that still was dangerous and illegal.”

“I know, I know. Sorry.” Karen said, apologetically.

“For the record, I didn’t know that’s what we were going to do. I just thought we were going to look at the house from afar.” Foggy said, holding his hands up. “But, I will still take some of the blame… but your daughter knows how to pick locks.”

Matt looks her way again. “You know how to do what?”

“Why are you throwing me into this?” Kaila asked, dumbfounded. “Shouldn’t we be listening to Karen? I mean, I know Frank is a lunatic, but he threw one of his missions away to save me. Shouldn’t Nelson and Murdock at least try to see if they can help him?”

“No.” Foggy shakes his head. “No. I mean, yeah he saved you, but come on, we successfully dodged a metaphorical bullet and quite a few literal ones. We need to be done with the crazy, guys. We need normal.”

And with that said he stormed into his own office.

“I’m sorry.” Karen said, bowing her head. “I’m really sorry if I– I pushed it too far.”

“It’s okay.” Matt said, with a light laugh. “Just Uh, I don’t think you’re wrong about him, I feel the same way too, but it’s really simple, Karen. Just I don’t want you to get hurt. Not like I have…”

She lets those words sink in before deciding to test the waters somewhere else. “So, uh... Last night.”

“Last night?” He pinches his brows together, all tongue and cheek. “I don’t– What happened last night? At Josie’s? With Foggy?”

She giggles. “You…”

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything else? I don’t–”

“Yeah?”

Matt laughs quietly, softly. “Yeah, it was great. And I like to think I can do better, if we’re still on for dinner.”

“Uh, yeah. It’s a date.”

“Holy shit!” Foggy said, coming back into the room. “That was the bank.”

Karen frowns with dread. “Oh, no.”

“No, it’s all good.” Foggy continues, still stunned by the news. “There was a deposit. A big one.”

“What?”

Kaila’s eyes widened with realization before looking at her Father. “Dad–”

“Uh, actually, do me a favor, don’t spend any of it.” Matt blurts out nervously.

“Dad–”

Foggy gives him a strange look. “Why not?” He asked, concernedly.

“I-I was hit up by a potential client yesterday, so, I just–” Matt tried explaining but his friend was now nervously saying things.

“Is it dirty money? Are we doing that again?”

“No! No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just, um– I’m not sure it’s gonna work out, let me… Let me just–”

“Dad!!” Kaila shouts, getting him to stop. “Enough lying! Just tell them the truth. You promised no more secrets.”

With those words, she trapped her Dad like a deer in a headlight. He felt everyone’s eyes on him, puzzled and on the border of hurt.

“What secret?” Karen asked, with a tilt of her head.

“Okay, who’s this client, Matt?” Foggy asked, bracing himself for the answer.

Matt lets out a sigh knowing he’s been pinned down. And with a small shift in his stance, hands on his hips he says, “It’s… Elektra.” And he didn’t need sight to know that his college roommate’s eyes were slowly bugging out of his head.

“Wait…” Foggy mumbles, hands waving around, grasping something imaginary. “Elektra?” He tests out the name that burns on his tongue. “Psychopath Elektra? Your old girlfriend from college?”

Karen immediately copies his expression. “Old girlfriend?” She asked, looking between the two.

“Yeah!” Foggy boasts, arms flinging out in a dramatic way. “I-I mean she was beautiful, b-but fucking off the walls crazy!” He stares at Matt in disbelief. “You mean she showed up back in your life?”

Matt nods. “S-She… was at my door when I came home last night.”

Karen crosses her arms, intrigued. “W-What did she want?”

“Uh, basically, long story short, she wants to get her father’s wealth back from this company called Roxxon. She wanted me to be her lawyer. I told her no, but apparently she didn’t listen.”

“What do we do?” Foggy asked, while rubbing his tired face.

“I’m going to have to talk to her, I mean we’re defense lawyers. What can we do?”

“And you’re talking to her as… Matt Murdock? Or the other guy?”

Matt frowns. “Not sure yet. I’ll be back.” He says, making his way where he left his walking stick. His gaze soon leads to Karen. “I’ll make sure to be back for tonight.”

Foggy raises an eyebrow between the two. “What’s tonight?” He asked, confused by this potential memo he missed.

“They’re going on a date.” Kaila sang, grinning ear to ear while making the two adults blushed.

“What?!” Her Uncle said, baffled. “Are you serious?” He gets a quick nod of confirmation from his niece before throwing his arms in the air. “Finally!”

Matt listens to his daughter’s giggle before touching her shoulder, grabbing her attention. “I’ll be back.”

Kaila nods as her expression fades. “Be careful.”

“I will, but–” He taps the top of her phone, knowing exactly what she was doing on it. “Worry about meeting your friend.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know I was texting–” But he leaves without another word, and she’s left staring at her device.

Once the door closes, Foggy reverts back to a curious fellow. “Your friend?”

“Uh–” Kaila meets his eyes for a split second before looking away. “I made a friend at work, and I’m… having some trouble with him.”

“Him?” He asked in the same tone of fashion her father had the night before.

She almost visibly eyerolls. “Okay, I don’t need the protective lecture again. He’s just a friend that happens to be a boy. Alright?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry. Habit, you know?”

Suddenly the office phone rings and Foggy excuses himself to go answer it just as Karen takes a seat next to the teenager.

“Need some advice?” She asked, softly.

Kaila shrugs and sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well… what’s this boy like? Is he nice? How did you meet?”

“I… I met him before the summer, right around the time you guys were about to bring Fisk down. I met him, Jayden, at that coffee shop I like to go to sometimes. We talked, just a short little conversation as we waited for our drinks, then that was it.” Kaila explains slowly, shifting in her seat. “Then, about a month into my job, he started working there. Maybe it was just a weird coincidence, but I took it as a sign that maybe the universe was finally giving me a friend.”

Karen tilts her head again. “Finally?”

The young Murdock shrugged. “I never really had friends growing up. Everyone was also so cliquey. It was strange. I was basically the girl you invited to a party because you felt bad.”

The blonde frowns. “Kai…”

“It’s fine, really. I’m not bothered by it as much as before. I mean, I did have one friend who I considered my best friend in the sixth grade, I mean we did everything together.” She slouches in her chair. “But the day she and her parents met my father, she never spoke to me again. Her parents were the helicopter ones, strict about everything. And… they obviously didn’t like blind people. Rich jackasses.”

“Kai, that’s horrible.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I like Jayden because we have a lot in common. Same music taste, we love scary movies, love books, I could go on. But ever since the kidnapping, he texted me if I was okay, I replied back and that was it. Dead silence.” She continues. “I want to go talk to him, but I don’t know where he lives, and I can’t exactly go back to my job because I’m on temporary leave, and to quote my Boss, he said, ‘If I see you set foot in this store instead of being home healing I’ll fire you’. And I kind of like my job, so… yeah.”

“Huh.” Karen said, thinking. “Have you talked it over with your dad?”

“He suggested I should give him a little bit before calling, but I don’t know. Should I even wait?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” And just before more could be said, a certain DA’s right hand came strolling in. Karen stands up, surprised. “Mr. Tower? I, uh, wish you’d called. I’d have something set up.”

“Are they in?” He asked, quickly. And right on cue, Foggy peaks from his office door.

“Just the Nelson half.” He replies, puzzled as well.

“We need to talk. In private.” Tower replies, ignoring the many jabs the people in the room were giving him as he entered Foggy’s office.

“Asshole.” Kaila said, once the door was closed.

Karen chuckles. “Can be…”

“Why don’t you do what you have to?” The Murdock gestures towards the exit. “I know that detective brain of yours wants to work on the Castle case.”

The blonde looks surprised again. “You sure?”

“Of course. There’s not much I’ll be able to do since I don’t know what you’re looking for. Besides–” She holds her phone up. “Maybe I should try.”

Karen smiles and grabs her purse. “Good luck.”

“You too.” Kaila waits till she leaves before scrolling to his contact and hitting the phone icon; She lifts it to her ear, waiting to see if it’ll stop ringing.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hours later after their separate adventures, both Karen and Matt made it on time for their date. The blonde was nervously flipping through the menu as the lawyer stayed silent, just listening.

“D-Do you drink wine?” Karen nervously stutters. “I should know that.”

“I… don’t drink anything they don’t serve at Josie’s.” Was Matt’s answer, which got her to laugh.

“Yeah, well, I don’t see swill on the menu.”

Their eyes locked for a moment before getting preoccupied again. Eventually they both tried to speak at the same time. “So how was–/So what did–” A laugh. “I’m sorry–/I was just gonna–”

Karen smiles, setting the menu down. “Uh, you go ahead. Go, go first.”

Matt copies her. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Uh, yeah, just a regular day at the office.”

“Well, it’s a nice change of pace, right? Not being shot at?” He nervously laughs. “That’s gotta feel good.”

She hums, and takes a sip of water. “Yeah.” She sets the glass down, folding her hands on top of one another. “You, uh… how’s the, uh, new… you know. Elektra.”

Matt inhales deeply, clearly still frustrated over the mess. “Honestly, I didn’t get the chance to talk to her. I kind of…” A slight shrugged. “Eavesdropped on the meeting.”

“Is she… in trouble you think?” Karen asked, genuinely curious.

He sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I don’t want to get involved. Like I told Kai last night, she left many years ago, I’ve forgotten about her, and that’s all I want to do.”

Karen looks at him worriedly, finally seeing the hurt he’s been through appearing on his face. “I’m sorry. It… sucks when your past comes back to bite you. I know I’ve… I’ve had my fair share of that.”

Matt’s heart clenched, frowning sadly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He whispers, and there was a brief pause before they both recollected themselves. “Well, uh… that covers work.”

She changes her expression to a joyful one like earlier. “Uh, well, it's a start. Um–” She pointed to a corner of the restaurant where the bathroom was. “I’ll be back in just a minute. Order something fantastic.”

“Sure thing.” He says, hearing her leave. Once she does he lets out a sigh, embarrassed how this was going. He thought maybe his struggles would be helped when the waiter suddenly appeared by his side. “Look. If I had to seem like I knew everything there is to know about wines in the next 60 seconds, what would I… what would I order?”

“Matthew Murdock?” The waiter said, sounding all buddy-buddy.

Matt tilts his head in confusion. “Yeah.”

He holds out a phone. “You have a call.”

“Oh.” Matt takes it. “Thanks.” He lifts it to his ear. “This is Murdock.”

‘Sorry to bother you while you're out, but you have a few moments before she returns, right?’

Matt mentally curses as soon as he hears her voice. He clenches the phone, and hiss, “What do you want from me?”

‘You should ask yourself the same question. That rooftop act was cute.’

“Yeah, nothing compared to your damsel-in-distress one.” He grits his teeth as she laughs at his reply.

‘Oh, you’re right. I didn’t actually need you. I told you, maybe I just missed you. But don’t worry, you can keep the money.’

Matt chuckles sarcastically. “Aw.. Go to fucking hell.”

‘If you really want to be done, consider this me firing you.’

And then he was met with the dial tone, supposedly ending this ‘nightmare’ (or maybe it was just starting it).

“Hey.” Karen’s sweet voice broke through, pulling him away from the memories of his past.

He flashes her a reassuring smile. “Hey.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah… th-they ran out of wine.”

She chuckles at what she thought was a joke. “No.” She frowns when she sees he wasn’t laughing back. “Wait, seriously? Matt–”

“I-I don’t I don’t like this place, you know?”

“Is it the place? Or is it–”

“It’s definitely not you.” He quickly says, truthfully.

“You’re sure?” She said, heart skipping a beat.

“Yeah.” He hears his own heart flutter, getting back into the groove. “I’m positive.”

She bites her lip seductively before taking him by the hand. “Come on. I know where we can go.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Thank you.” Karen said to their new waiter at their new date spot.

“Wow, this smells amazing.” Matt replies, the curry and other spices hitting his nose blissfully. “What is it?”

“Um…” She laughs at herself, not knowing either. “Who cares? They have wine.”

Matt finds himself grinning ear to ear. “Right. That’s… You know, I’ve always felt more comfortable with the cheap stuff. You know?”

“Yeah? Well, here, I’ll drink to that.” She holds her glass up waiting for Matt to do the same before clicking.

“Cheap stuff.”

She grins too. “Cheap stuff.” She sets her glass down after a sip, grabbing her fork to dig in. “You know, I never even had Indian food until a few months ago.”

“How is that possible?” Matt asked, surprised.

“Well, my hometown in Vermont had about 400 people, so the most ethnic food it offered was French fries.”

“So that’s why you, uh, came to New York? For the food?”

She shakes her head at his cheekiness. “Uh, no. Although, if I knew places like this existed, I’d have left Vermont ages ago.”

“You see, that’s why I love this city.” He says, hearing her hum to continue. “I’ve lived here my whole life, and the place never stops unfolding new secrets.”

She nods in understanding. “Yeah, you know despite the crime, and the darkness, every once in a while, New York makes me feel…

“Like, safe?”

“Yes, is that weird?”

He shrugs. “Well–

“Huh.”

“I get it.”

Another flutter to her heart as she leans in closer. “I wish you could see this place.”

Matt smiles. “I can, if you describe it to me.”

She hums again, setting her fork down and using her hands to speak. “S-So, anyways, my favorite part… is the ceiling. It’s literally dripping with thousands of lights. They’re shaped like chili peppers–” She holds her hand up before he could protest. “Which sounds really tacky, I know, but it’s um, it’s not. Just… It’s magic.”

“Magic?”

“Yeah.” They lock eyes again. “Magic.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After dinner, the two of them took a lovely stroll hand and hand. It seems like this wonderful night would last forever, until they arrived just outside the Page residence.

Karen looks torn as she pulls them both to a stop. “This is me.” She said, before laughing nervously.

“Are you sure you don’t… live two more blocks?” Matt asked, feeling the same way. “Maybe three?”

“I wish.” She shifts her towards him. “We could sit.”

“Yeah.” He guides them down on the steps, and he pulls his shades off, taking this moment in. He chuckles, scooting closer. “All right, I’m gonna kiss ya.”

And she lets him.

They both started off sweetly before turning it up a notch, hands gripping onto each other’s clothing like it was a life line. Maybe in some way… it was.

“You can come up… if you like?” Karen asked in between their kisses.

Matt hums against her lips, smiling. “I’d love to.”

And he kisses her again.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Okay, so how many voicemails did you leave?” Foggy asked his Niece as they walked from the office back to her home. He wasn’t surprised when Karen left earlier in the day to do some research, but he was taken back by how his Niece seemed very repetitive with her moves today.

Looking quite embarrassed, and not even looking at him she said, “...Eight.”

“Eight?” He replies, shocked. “Jesus, Kai. I don’t think I’ve seen you stress something over like this before.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He frowns at how disappointed she sounded. “Kaila–”

“It’s okay, Foggy. I’ll be alright.” She says, as she heads up to her apartment entrance, keys in hand.

“Hey.” He says, getting her to finally turn around to look at him. “Try not to stress over it. I’m sure he’ll come around. And if he doesn’t…” He shrugs. “Fuck him. You’re too good for him anyway.”

Kaila cracks a smile. “Thank you, Uncle Foggy. Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too, kiddo.”

She unlocks the front door and heads inside, carefully guiding herself to ride the elevator. She sighs after hitting her floor number, a wave of exhaustion hitting her hard.

He’s right. I shouldn’t be stressing over this. And she shouldn’t, but it still hurts to admit that.

I finally found someone that I consider a real friend and he ghosts me. Lucky me…

The elevator dings and opens, and she slowly moves across the hallway to the very end. She fishes around her key ring for the right one–

“Hey, Coffee girl.” A voice erupts behind her, making her nearly jump out of her shoes.

Head whipping around quickly, she blinks upon confusion. “...Jayden?”

The dark haired boy looks nervous, and out of place, but still manages to give her a wave. “Hi.”

“W-What…” She shakes her head, recollecting herself. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I… got your voicemails.” He holds up his phone before putting it back away. “Can we uh… can we talk?”

“Talk…?”

“Yeah. Can we?”

She doesn’t know if this was a dream or not, but if it isn’t, something was telling her to cease this opportunity or else. Finally relaxing her tense body, she replies,

“Sure.”

-Taglist is open if anyone wants to join-

@stinkywhore @invinciblerikkai @glass-ghost

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corinthianism · 1 year ago

Text

last kiss | sam winchester (4)

pairing: sam winchester/f!reader additional tags: best friends to lovers (?), fluff, angst

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter | ao3

CHAPTER FOUR: SOMEWHERE IN DETROIT

You sat on Bobby’s porch, sipping on coffee that had more espresso shots than what was healthy. You had all four of the Horsemen’s rings, and all you had to do now was to get Lucifer in Sam’s body. The problem was figuring out where Lucifer would be.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the exhaustion that’s been building up in your bones over the past few days. Weeks. Years. If someone asked you how you were doing right now and you had to say the truth, you’d say you felt like you were thrown around like a ragdoll by a bunch of super-powered toddlers.

The brothers were out in the yard, probably making some tiny repairs to maintain Baby. If you had to guess, they were probably having the Big Conversation about Sam’s plan. Your head hung low, and for the umpteenth time this week, someone joined your little pity party.

At least they never left you alone.

“How you holdin’ up?” Bobby asked you, taking off his cap as he sat beside you. The wooden boards creaked under the added weight. The older man grunted as he bent his knees to get to your level.

“How’re your knees holding up?” you grinned at your father figure. He shook his head and ruffled your hair.

“Answer the question, young lady.”

“I’m barely holding up, Bobby,” you tried to joke, only to be met with a serious expression on his face. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. You don’t get to do that.”

“It’s about Sam, isn’t it?” he questioned softly.

You took a long, deep breath and set your mug down, “Yes! Yes, it is. It always is. There. You happy?”

“Well, you don’t have to get all snippy with me. We’re all worried about him. I’m just worried about you,” he paused for a moment. “Because everyone knows what you have with him is special.”

Your jaw clenched, feeling a strong urge to just up and leave. No one, especially you, wanted to hear about how their relationship with someone they love was so special, only to be reminded of how they’d lose it all in the span of a week. There was only so much a person could take and as patient as you were, even you had a limit.

When you didn’t respond, Bobby continued, “If I know anything about love, sweetheart, it’s that losing it could be the worst thing to happen to you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He shot you a look, his way of telling you to let him keep going, “It’s scary. You’ll have everything to lose. Love makes you do crazy, insane things, but you found something not a lot people have. People spend their whole lives looking for this sort of thing, and here you are, what? Sixteen, seventeen years strong?”

“Eighteen.”

He chuckled, “Eighteen. All I’m saying is, I’m sorry that this has to happen. I know you love him, and let me tell you, that boy looks at you like you’re his whole world. Sam was always the soft one. You took care of him in ways John and Dean couldn’t… but it’s time to let him go.”

Hot tears were spilling now, and you wanted to curse Bobby for hitting you with the cold hard truth, even if you knew deep down that you needed to hear it.

“I don’t think I can,” your voice trembled, a vulnerability you rarely showed in all your years of hunting. “I can’t lose him too, Bobby. Not him.”

“Listen to me,” he wiped away your tears. “When all of this is over, you’re the one who’ll be left here. You’re the one who’ll live. If I know anything about Sam, it’s that he’d want you to live your life as best as you can, even if he can’t say it to you straight.”

“Get to the point, Bobby,” you answer tiredly despite the caffeine rushing in your veins.

“Sam won’t be here,” you tried to steel yourself when these words left Bobby’s mouth. “But you will. I’m willing to bet a big part of why he’s so willing to jump in the first place was because he knew you’d be okay. So be okay for him, even if you aren’t.”

You didn’t notice how tight your grip was on the sleeve of your jacket, and you hated yourself just a little bit more in that moment because you felt like a child dealing with feelings she’s never had to face before. You were a hunter, you had to be above this.

Sam would’ve said otherwise. You were always more than that to him: more than a hunter. More than a friend.

You and Bobby eventually went back inside to prepare everything you needed for this final trip, which included gallons of demon blood for Sam to consume. You’d never say it to his face because it’d make him feel worse than he already felt, but it was disgusting. Perhaps you wouldn’t be in this predicament right now if you were a little bit more firm in keeping him away from hunting when Dean was in hell, maybe he would’ve been away from Ruby. With the help of Castiel, the work was finished much quicker.

Sam joined you and Cas in filling up the trunk of the Impala with the jugs while Bobby and Dean talked about Lucifer’s possible whereabouts. The work was silent between the three of you; it wasn’t the best time to discuss what-if’s when Cas was right there but then again, there was never a right time.

Dean came back to get Sam and Cas, after pinpointing where Lucifer was likely to be: Detroit. Sam looked at you one last time, and you felt his gaze on you. When you turned around, you knew then that everything Bobby told you earlier in the day was true. Sam’s arm rested on the car door, taking a moment to just look at you before he went into the Impala and marched right into the Death Star. He did look at you like you were his whole world, and it took your breath away.

It was, of course, Dean and Bobby that broke you out of your little moment, urging the both of you to hurry up so you could all get going. You hopped into the passenger seat of Bobby’s van so that you could tail the Impala all the way to Detroit.

“Here goes nothing,” you thought.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

“Aw, ain’t he a little angel?” Dean grinned. Cas was sleeping in the backseat, probably beat from all the work they’ve had to do over the past few weeks. The brothers could only imagine what it must’ve been like to spend thousands of years following orders, and then suddenly breaking free from all of it.

Sam only chuckled, muttering about how angels didn’t really sleep, and the car ride is silent for a while.

“Sam, I gotta bad feeling about this,” the older Winchester admitted.

“Well, you’d be nuts to have a good feeling about it.”

Dean frowned, “You know what I mean. Detroit. He always said he’d jump your bones in Detroit. Here we are.”

“Here we are.”

There was nothing Sam could say that would calm Dean’s worries. Not that anything could, since they were quite literally about to meet the Devil. Instead, the two talked about the possibilities; how Lucifer might’ve known something they didn’t. Sam was quick to point out how he probably did, hoping that at the very least, the fallen archangel didn’t know about the Horsemen’s rings.

Another bout of silence.

Sam shifted in his seat to face Dean, “Hey, um… on the subject, there’s something I gotta talk to you about.”

“What?”

“This thing goes our way and… I Triple Lindy into that box… you know I’m not coming back.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Dean’s answer was automatic. He barely looked away from the road.

Sam took a more serious tone, “So you gotta promise me something.”

“Okay, yeah. Anything.”

“You gotta promise not to try and bring me back.”

Dean very nearly stopped the car right then and there, “What? No! I didn’t sign up for that. Your hell is gonna make my tour look like Graceland. You want me to just sit by and do nothing?”

“Once the Cage is shut, you can’t go poking at it, Dean,” Sam stayed firm. “It’s too risky.”

“You can’t ask me to do this,” Dean pleaded with his baby brother. He wasn’t always one for thinking ahead, but he couldn’t fathom not trying to save his brother.

“I’m sorry, Dean. You have to.”

“So then what am I supposed to do?” Dean pressed.

“You go find Lisa,” Dean stiffened at the mention of her name, but Sam continued. “You pray to God that she’s dumb enough to take you in and you… you have barbecues and go to football games. You go live some normal, apple pie life, Dean. Promise me.”

“And what about her?”

This time, it was Sam that froze.

“What about her?” Sam’s words had a dangerous edge to them, a stark contrast to the gentleness he exhibited just moments prior.

“Did you give her this whole speech too? Because what is she supposed to do, Sammy? You tell me to go have a normal, apple pie life, but what does she have to come back to when this is all over?”

“She’ll live her life,” Sam answered softly. “She’ll have to.”

“For someone so smart, you’re goddamn stupid, you know that?” Dean grunted.

“What is there to talk about, Dean? There’s no other way to get rid of Lucifer, and I’m doing this to keep her safe,” Sam tried to defend himself, unable to face the truth that he’d been trying to avoid ever since this plan was formulated all those nights ago.

“She loves you so damn much,” Dean tried to make his brother see the other side of things; how his death will echo through the lives of everyone that cared for him. How it’ll echo through your life. “Even when you’re being a dumbass, she fought tooth and nail to keep you safe. Now you’re asking, not just me, but her, to let you die?”

Sam stayed quiet for a while before answering his brother, “At least she’ll be alive, and that’s all that matters to me.”

The car ride was silent for the last time.

Sam craned his head to look out the window, even if there wasn’t anything particularly interesting to be seen outside. In a few short hours, Lucifer would possess him, and there was just no telling how that would go. He hoped he was strong enough, because once Lucifer got inside his head, he was scared that Lucifer would make it his mission to ruin you just to destroy Sam even further. It would’ve been the most effective way to do so.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. His fear and his anger weren’t gonna help him beat the devil. Sam tried his best, his damn hardest, to go to places in his mind that he cherished. He kept these memories close to his heart. They were sacred.

He remembered being thirteen, and reading lore books with you.

He remembered being seventeen, and dancing to Whitney Houston with you with nothing but a streetlight as your disco ball.

In between all those memories, there were feelings that only ever grew stronger with time. He doesn’t remember if he ever told you, maybe he has. Maybe after a couple of drinks, maybe at his lowest point.

Still, all Sam knew, and all he needed to know, was that as long as you were alive and breathing, it was worth whatever price he had to pay. He owed you that much.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

In Detroit, there was a chill in the air that gave you goosebumps. The guys were unloading the gallon jugs of blood from the car. Bobby confirmed that there were at least two dozen demons inside one of the buildings. This had to be it.

You stayed back, making small talk with Castiel while Sam drank the demon blood in some faraway corner.

“You are anxious.”

You gave him an amused smile, “That would be the understatement of the century.”

He simply nodded in acknowledgment and placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Sam is strong. He’ll conquer Lucifer.”

“I hope you’re right, Cas.”

Sam and Dean walked back over to your little group. Sam wiped away the remnants of blood that threatened to trickle down his chin. One by one, Sam talked to each of you. It was goodbye. A hug from Bobby, some awkward chatting with Cas. Then, he reached you. The whole world stopped.

“I wish you knew how much I don’t want you to do this,” you looked up at him, your arms were crossed in an attempt to both shield yourself from the cold and from him.

“Believe me, I know,” he sighed, before taking one of your hands into his own and bringing it up to his face. “I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to.”

“I know,” your answer was laced with something that was barely acceptance and more like defeat.

“I’m sorry,” he squeezed your hand. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

“It’s okay,” you wrapped your arms around him, letting his warmth and his scent and everything that was his just completely overwhelm you. “I’ll see you soon, won’t I?”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, hugging you even tighter. It wasn’t often that you saw Sam cry, but you could feel the shakiness of his breath that he tried to hide as he clung onto you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

“Hey, don’t get all soft on me now, Sammy,” you joked, rubbing his back as you did so.

“I’m pretty sure I always was.”

It took him a while to pull away, not caring if Dean was waiting for him to catch up. This would be the last time he’d get to hold you like this, and he wanted to savor every second he could get before he was gone. He took a deep breath and pressed a kiss to your temple, then to your cheek, then finally, your lips.

It was everything you both hoped it would be and for a moment, you could ignore the sadness growing inside of you.

The kiss was soft. Tender. You moved in a way only two people whose souls were intertwined forever would. He wasn’t shaking anymore. If anything, this kiss flooded him with an overwhelming sense of clarity.

He had to keep you safe, so he forced himself to walk away from you, even if every fiber of his being told him to say those three little words… but he couldn’t hurt you anymore than he was about to, so he stayed silent.

You watched as the distance between you grew. The kiss lingered on your lips like a ghost. It was the calm before the storm because as soon as Sam was out of your sight, the sorrow pierced through you. This life always left you in pieces, but this was the first time in a long time, that you felt pain like this. It was precise; meant to target where it hurt the most.

Bobby and Cas approached you with solemn looks on their faces; they both knew that there was nothing they could say that would ease the pain you were feeling. You wanted to share your grief with them, you really did, in hopes that you wouldn’t be crushed by the weight of it.

But you couldn’t. Just like what Bobby said: what you had with Sam was special, perhaps a once-in-a-lifetime kind of connection, and that meant your grief was a cross only you could bear. No one else could possibly hope to understand what it was like.

After about twenty minutes, a white flash of light erupted from the windows of the building where Sam was and you knew that the worst had come to pass. Lucifer was inside of him. Without thinking, you ran inside the building with nothing but the pistol you had strapped to your leg and a dagger tucked under your belt. You ignored the cold fear that seeped into your bones, no matter how much it tried to weaken your resolve. You ignored the shouts of Bobby and Cas from behind you, telling you to stop.

You thought of Sam, now possessed by Lucifer and no doubt revelling in taunting Dean.

Dean. He was still inside, and if he was still alive, you owed it to him to try and get him out of there.

As you made your way up the building, bodies were strewn about. Blood was spilled on the floor and splattered on the walls. You grit your teeth, and tightened the grip on your gun. Finally, you reached the fourth floor. A blast of cold air hit your face and standing in the middle of the room was Sam. Dean was backed up against a wall.

“Ah, you’re just in time,” Sam— no, Lucifer, exclaimed. “I was wondering when Sammy’s little girlfriend would come in to save the day. I didn’t see you before. You know, when these two tried to kill me with the Colt? It was so sad. For them, I mean. But let me tell you, you do not disappoint, honey. Prettier in person if I do say so myself.”

“Get the hell away from her!” Dean yelled, trying his best to fight against the force of Lucifer’s power.

“No, I don’t think so,” Lucifer cocked his head mockingly at Dean. He approached you, smirking when he noticed you were too terrified and confused to even take a step back. “Little Sammy certainly had taste. You’re just exquisite, aren’t you? I think… I’ll keep you.”

He brushed his fingers against your hair, taking a big whiff of your scent in an overdramatic and freakish show of dominance. He knew you wouldn’t and couldn’t do anything, not as long as he was wearing Sam’s face.

Humans were so simple.

“Well,” he turned to face Dean one last time with a malicious smile. “Bye-bye, big brother.”

With a snap of his fingers, both you and Lucifer were gone in a cloud of black smoke. Dean was all alone.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #jared padalecki #dean winchester #spn fanfiction #reader insert #sam winchester fanfic

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immortalled · 10 months ago

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hi! i’m so sorry if this is strange, i’m just working on a story and i’d love a second opinion ^^’ no pressure to answer this at all! it’s very hard to explain without proper context so bare with me

i was wondering how you think nathan would react upon finding out he’s the only person who can kill a creature that’s been plaguing him and his friends for a while, in a sort of IT inspired way? most of his friends would be dead at this point, so it’d be like a heroic attempt to make up for their losses by strapping himself with explosives lmao

he’d be around the age he appears in the show but in a tiny rural town setting with no powers

it’s a little up in the air for me on whether he would do it and what could happen afterwards, i’ve kept this quite vague mostly because it is just a loose storyline i’ve strung together while listening to a song, but if it sparks anything for you i’d love to hear!

Hi, Nonnie! Not strange at all! I love talking to people. ♥ (And apologies in advance, this got long because I started analyzing him LOL. Please feel free to skip the analysis under the cut if that doesn't interest you.)

Okay, so first off, I'm flattered you're asking me, and secondly, this sounds like a really fun fanfiction. If you're comfortable, I'd love to read it! If you ever post it on Ao3, please feel free to drop me a link! I'll subscribe!! c:

As for your question... Of course, please do always play with him however you want! I'm far from any kind of... idk, definitive authority on his character LOL, and fancreations are your own sandbox, so I'd never want anyone to change what they want to do based on my or anyone else's personal interpretation of a character. But! My personal two cents is that whether or not Nathan would sacrifice himself like that is really down to how strong his connection with his friends has grown and if he thinks there is anything to gain or save by doing so!

Nathan Young is a character who loves living. He's the embodiment of the early 2010s YOLO motto and that particular brand of unapologetic, teenagery/young adult joie de vivre attitude is why I think the storm gave him immortality as a super power. The rooftop scene in the S1 finale is a great example of this and his entire speech about going crazy while you're young, even if it's dangerous, is actually a really solid look into Nathan's worldview and what seems to drive his impulses. In fact, I think rewatching that entire episode might help you get a better perspective on Nathan and how he might handle the situation in your fanfic!

So, that is to say, I don't think mortal!Nathan is the kind of person to sacrifice his life for anything without very good reason. In fact, I'd argue that he wouldn't at all without immortality as a safety net. He's kind of a coward at times and tends to dodge anything painful or unpleasant, be it emotional or physical. But let's look at the times he sacrificed or almost sacrificed himself in canon!

S1E6 - Falling from the Wertham Community Centre. Nathan does not know he's immortal here and he almost doesn't go back for his friends at all. He only decides to try stopping Virtue because he's been pushed to the edge and realizes how much his weird little ASBO family means to him. Without them, he's totally alone again, and Nathan hates being alone. Although, in fairness, I also do not think Nathan believed there was a possibility of dying in this scenario. Rachel was mind-controlling people, not murdering them, and he clearly did not account for the fact that either of them would lose their balance. I am unsure that he would have done any of this had he known he might not make it out alive... maybe if he had exhausted all other options? Either way, the key here is that he did take risks because he thought he could still save his friends.

S2E2 - Trying to save Jamie. Nathan doesn't think before running toward the burning car to save his half-brother. He could have died here because the ecstasy he took reversed his power, but it's unclear whether or not he heard Simon's warning or if it would have made a difference. Considering how blind the reaction looked, I don't think being immortal or mortal would have mattered. But, still, he was acting on the hope that he could save Jamie.

S2E4 - Almost lets Tim gut him. In order to keep his friends from being killed by Tim the Crazy GTA NPC, Nathan agrees to be killed in their stead. However, he has to be pressured into it by his friends despite knowing he will come back to life. I think Nathan would have deeply regretted it if he had let Tim kill them, but in that moment he was far more afraid of the pain of death than anything else.

S2E6 - Suicide for fame and going toe-to-toe with the Murderous Milkman. This is one of the best examples of Nathan's growth and how he has begun to cope with his power in an extremely unhealthy way. In this episode, we see him toy with the idea of allowing himself to be killed for fame (albeit not without a little bit of peer pressure from his manager), which he does on-camera. We also see him try to legitimately fight someone for the first time when he seeks out Brian specifically for revenge after learning Brian murdered Kelly. In both instances, Nathan knows he will or could die, but he's willing to go through with it anyway because he's immortal. Dying hurts, it sucks, but he's learning to see it as something unimportant when he's able to come back to life. Obviously, he wouldn't kill himself on camera without immortality, but I think it's fair to question whether or not he'd attack someone out of revenge for a dead friend. Maybe? I don't personally think so, but it might be worth watching this episode again and analyzing the scene for yourself.

S2E7 / The "Christmas Special" - Blocking a gunman from shooting his friends. I admittedly have some beef with the characterization and overall writing of this episode, but I don't think that this particular scene is OOC. In this episode, an armed gunman bursts into the bar where Curtis works and is about to shoot. Nathan wastes no time getting in front of the gun and telling him to shoot, who cares, he's immortal. It's all very badass until he's reminded uh oh! he sold his power and is actually mortal now. Realizing that, Badass Hero Nathan vanishes and he flings himself out of the way to avoid being shot (which gets Nikki killed in the process). Now, obviously, this scene is set up entirely just to fridge Nikki and you could argue that Nathan isn't as close to Nikki as his other friends, but I don't think that would have mattered. If Nathan, mortal, had the choice between jumping between his friends and a bullet or hiding... I really do think he'd hide.

Don't get me wrong, Nathan can be selfless and heroic. The fact that he's immortal does not cheapen the fact that he was willing to endure the pain of death and what appears to be a very unpleasant resurrection process for the sake of potentially saving or avenging his friends. Nathan's an ass, and he's regularly selfish, but he is not a bad guy and he sticks his neck out for people he loves way more often than any of them give him credit for. But I also just do not think that he'd be willing to sacrifice or get himself hurt if he had no supernatural "take-backs". If he sacrificed himself, I think it would have to be accidental, as with running to save Jamie; some great, fatal risk that he does not consider fatal because he's too wrapped up in an emotion greater than his fear of dying.

For your story, I think you would have to either push him to the point of not being able to think past a greater fear, or you would have to remove all other options from him. Friends gone, family gone, way of living, maybe even the rest of the world, gone. Or perhaps he's trapped, somehow, in a place where he can't return to the rest of the world? Maybe he's stuck in a place where it will forever be just him and the monster that's been hounding them. I think that he would have to sit with that revelation for a while, wear down, and then maybe he would seriously consider destroying himself to destroy the creature, if the alternative is too suffocating and grim to bear. Whatever the reason, without his friends to save, the catalyst for his decision would need to be something that directly affects Nathan, not people who are no longer alive.

Anyway, that's just my very long two cents. Again, fictional characters are up to interpretation and I think most any character can be pushed and changed to do whatever you want in the right circumstances, especially AUs. So don't let my opinions stop you if you want to take his character a different direction! The most important thing is to have fun and write the story you want to tell. c:

If you have any more thoughts or want to brainstorm some ideas, though, I'm happy to bat around some stuff with you and see what sticks! I read IT several years ago and loved it, so seeing the Misfits gang thrown into a similar situation sounds like a ton of fun.

#out of immortality [ooc];#[meta placeholder];#anonymous #superhoodie [anonymous];

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fig-newtons-official · 2 years ago

Text

Floki and Ivar Peace Out And Do Their Own Thing Pt. 7

6 (also contains links to previous chapters because I’m lazy)

…I am so sorry. It took me WAY too long to come back to this. Please forgive me and enjoy some violence, scheming, and our two favorite crazies causing mayhem.

Image sources: x, gif

Summoning:

@youbloodymadgenius @prepare4trouble @biobiopsy @exomal

———————————————————————

Tharain, the former thrall of Erik the Snow-Burned, stared hard at both Vikings, his jaw tight. He probably would have preferred if Floki hadn’t remembered him.

“As of now, I’ve been a free man for longer than I was enthralled. And even then, I was never truly a slave. Erik learned that the hard way.” Tharain explained, his forehead creasing at the memory.

Floki’s smirk grew. “As I said, I was glad when you did him in. Erik was a prick.”

Tharain sighed then quickly said, “That was a long time ago. Besides, my story is rather boring. I’d rather hear more about the two of you. How is it that a refugee who claims to be unfit to serve in the military was able to fight so well?”

Ivar let himself look insufferable and cocky, knowing that it would anger Tharain, “It could be luck. Or it could be that your swordsmanship is so abysmal that even a cripple can overtake you.”

Tharain’s face didn’t betray anything as he said, “That’s not an answer.”

Ivar fought the urge to purse his lips. Tharain was catching on to his games. That wasn’t ideal.

Thankfully, Floki piped up, “Ivar has grown strong from having to pull himself along the ground. I did teach him the basics of handling a battle axe, but not enough to be a true Viking. Just enough to defend himself. There are far too many people who would consider him an easy target.”

Ivar and Tharain glared into each others eyes, Ivar daring the painted warrior to call them on their fraudulent stories. He could tell that Tharain was skeptical, but the warrior lacked the evidence to dispute their tall tales.

After a long stare-down, Tharain finally said, “I’m sure that you’re both exhausted. As I mentioned before, you aren’t prisoners. Dinner is being made as we speak and you are more than welcome to join us. This tent may also act as a shelter for you two, if you’ll have it. I only use it when I need to smith something.”

The Vikings shared a glance. They had left their supplies up on the top of the hill and were not entirely sure of how to get back to it. Unless they wanted to starve to death, or risk finding some other unwelcome surprised while trying to hunt in unfamiliar territory, this was their best option. Besides, even though Tharain said that they weren’t prisoners, that clearly wasn’t the case. Ivar wasn’t sure why they were being given the illusion of choice.

One other factor preventing them from leaving at the moment was one that Ivar was reluctant to admit to either himself or Floki: his legs. His fight with Tharain had taken its toll on him. Hot little needles dug into his marrow, his penance for overexerting himself. Ivar knew that if he tried to push himself like that again, he’d break a bone.

Given their circumstances, Floki and Ivar agreed reluctantly to dinner.

———————————————————————

After being the subject of ogling his whole life, Ivar probably should have been used to it by now. The painted warriors would turn away whenever he’d try to catch their eyes, but he could feel the weight of their gazes when they thought that he wouldn’t notice. Some of them appeared to be in awe, others afraid, and others guarded.

Truthfully, it was easier to focus on their judgment of him than the agony his body was being subjected to. It took tremendous effort not to wince at the sharp sensation in his legs, exasperated by even the slightest movement.

Their dinner consisted of some brown broth with what appeared to be chunks of pork, possibly from the boar that they’d encountered before Ivar’s tussle with Tharain, as well as some small potatoes. To Ivar’s relief, it tasted better than it looked.

Ivar raised his head when he heard one of the warriors whispering in their strange language. The quiet conversation ceased once he raised his eyes to glower at the speakers.

Tharain noted Ivar’s threatening expression and edged closer, lowering his voice, “They weren’t insulting you. You remember what I told you about how they thought you were one of the Fair Folk? Or elves, as the Northmen call them?”

Ivar snorted as he used his spoon to chase a potato around in his bowl, “They think I’m an elf. And what gave them that impression?”

Tharain shrugged, chewing thoughtfully before he replied, “Nechtan insists that you appeared from thin air and made fire appear to chase the Saxons.”

Ivar grinned slightly. The unwanted son of Ragnar, a powerful elf capable of summoning flames? That certainly would be something. If only it were true.

He tilted his head curiously at Tharain, “And what do you believe?”

“I believe that he needs a few good meals and a few good nights’ worth of sleep. But there is something about you, besides what I can see, that is otherworldly.”

Ivar narrowed his eyes, preparing to be insulted, “And what can you see?”

Surprisingly, Tharain seemed reluctant to reply, “Your eyes. I’ve never seen anyone with such blue eyes before.”

Ivar raised an eyebrow. Normally, people were more focused on his legs than anything else. The only ones who knew about the peculiar way that the pale part of his eyes would turn blue when his legs were weakest were those who were close to him, which was a fairly short list. It definitely wasn’t information that he wanted to become more widespread. The last thing that he needed to provide yet another reason for others to regard him as weak.

And why was Tharain so sheepish when he mentioned it?

With a smirk, Ivar replied, “What if I was an elf? Is that truly so outlandish for you to believe?“

Now it was Tharain’s turn to snort, “If you’re an elf, I’m a snail.”

“You said yourself that your home must be easy to transport, not unlike a snail’s shell.” Ivar rebutted.

Tharain pondered for a bit, then shook his head, “A snail doesn’t choose to be nomadic, that’s simply how those creature were designed. I, however, have had no other option but to slink across the ground while avoiding the heels of those that mean to stomp me.”

“The Christians?” Ivar questioned nonchalantly.

“Among others. Namely, a rather large viper that scurried after me in the woods.”

Ivar chuckled, knowing his smile looked unfriendly. He wanted to remind him of how close he’d come to plunging a knife into his eye. However, he knew that allowing himself to be petulant would be against his interests, so he decided that it would be better to keep his thoughts to himself.

Ivar stabbed into the stubborn potato, pretending that it was Tharain’s eye.

While this conversation was going on, Floki and Eithne were trying to converse using exaggerated gestures. It looked like they were trying to talk about chopping wood. Wait. Floki just pointed at a tree. Ivar playfully threw a nearby twig at his mentor when it occurred to him that the boat builder was trying to tell her about his tree cutting misadventure. Floki merely laughed. Meanwhile, poor Eithne simply looked confused.

———————————————————————

When they were taken back to the smithing tent, they agreed that it’d be best if they took turns keeping watch while each other slept. Ivar volunteered to stay up first. Unlike his mentor, he was wide awake thanks to his body being at war with him.

Ivar reclined next to the anvil, arms crossed behind his head, eyes gazing at nothing as he concentrated on the voices that he heard outside. Focus on them and on getting out, not the pain. He recognized the voices of both Talorcs by the entrance of their tent. They were chuckling to themselves, reminding Ivar of two roosters clucking away. Not much further off, swords clanged against each other with occasional shouts from those that held them. Sparring.

There weren’t many people at the camp, which meant less eyes to spot them if he and Floki tried to sneak off. But how attentive were the Talorcs?

Ivar reached for the anvil and gave it a slight flick to see if their guards would react to the noise. The clucking of the Talorcs outside continued. He tapped it again, louder this time. Once again, neither guard reacted. Ivar knocked it over with a loud thud. The clucking didn’t falter for a second.

Floki, however, heard everything perfectly well and woke up briefly from his slumber to scowl at his young companion.

Ivar was more focused on the heavy footsteps approaching the tent to notice the older Viking’s ire. It sounded like Tharain.

The painted giant of a man ducked through the entrance of the tent, mouth in a stern line. Floki sat up slowly, his exhaustion forgotten instantly.

Ivar grinned coldly at their visitor, “Oh, good. You’re back.”

Instead of answering, Tharain dropped a sword at Ivar’s feet.

The smile slipped from the young Viking’s face.

Floki glowered at the painted warrior and hissed, “You’re challenging him? Did you not hear us earlier or did we perhaps use too many syllables when explaining our situation?”

Tharain’s eyes remained on Ivar as he replied, “Oh no, I understood your story quite well. The problem is I don’t believe it.”

Ivar pushed himself into a sitting position, gritting his teeth as the movement sent shocks of pain through his knees and thighs. He wasn’t in any condition to accept a rematch. He’d break a bone for sure and he doubted that the Pictish healers would be equipped to deal with his condition. However, if he didn’t accept, he’d be a coward.

Floki glanced at him, his face an irritated mask, though Ivar knew him well enough that he could detect the concern in his gaze. The familiar burn of anger rose in Ivar’s gut as he slowly grasped the handle of the sword…

And tossed is right back at Tharain. He narrowed his eyes, letting all the hate in his heart show through as he hissed, “And what is the challenge of a rebellious slave worth to me?”

The painted warrior’s nostrils flared, reminding Ivar of a bull about to charge. Tharain answered, “Perhaps you’re just afraid. It’s one thing to take a man in a fair fight, and quite another to catch him off guard.”

Ivar laughed cruelly. “So that’s what this is really about? I hurt your pride!”

“Admittedly, yes, but not for the reason you think.”

“And what reason is that?”

“Your story is so blatantly contrived that I can only take it as an insult that you’d think I’d believe it. Now pick up the sword. Prove me wrong.”

Ivar pursed his lips and crossed his arms. “Why should I? If I best you, you’ll take that as evidence that I’ve been dishonest, and if I lose, all that you’ll be proving is that you’re exceptional at beating those who were born at a disadvantage. All this serves to do is embarrass us both.”

“Don’t think of trying to throw the duel to prove your innocence. I will know. I’ll be waiting for you in the circle.” Tharain stated curtly before stalking out.

Once he was gone, Floki instantly crept forward to look at Ivar’s eyes.

Ivar growled, “I know. You don’t have to say anything.”

Floki snapped, “We both know that you’re not an idiot, Ivar, so don’t you dare act like one!”

“So what do you suggest then, hm? That I sit in here and pray to Freya that he forgets the whole thing?!” Ivar argued.

“I’ll see if I can accept the challenge for you-”

“And what will that prove?! That I’m a coward that needs an old man to fight his battles for him?!”

“Ivar, there is no one to tend to you if you break a bone! I know that-”

Ivar rolled his eyes and interrupted, “You’re beginning to sound like Mother.”

Floki’s frown deepened, but his voice softened, “There have been many times in my life when I should have accepted help when it was offered. Please don’t make that mistake.”

Ivar gritted his teeth again as he reached for the sword on the ground. He growled, “My mistakes are mine to make. Now, let me by so that I can shove this blade up Tharain’s ass.”

Floki sighed in resignation, but held the tent flap open for Ivar to crawl through, falling into step to accompany him to the sparring circle. Eithne was standing on the side of the ring, pale face flushed with anger as she watched their approach. The bones in Ivar’s legs shrieked their protest, but he buried their cries deep. He reminded himself that he’d bested Hvitserk when they sparred, and his other brothers were too afraid to face him. Hvitserk had been afraid of him after that day as well. Legs be damned, Tharain was going to learn to be afraid of him, too.

The warrior stood in the circle, tall, broad, and imposing, looking every inch like the Frost Giants Floki had told Ivar about as a child. He watched stone-faced as Ivar pulled himself into the ring.

Ivar scoffed, using the sound to hide a small grunt of pain as he put a little too much weight onto his left hip. “Do you expect me to crawl on the ground after you, nipping at your ankles like a kitten, or do you have something for me to sit on?”

“You didn’t need a seat in the forest.” Tharain responded coolly.

Ivar sighed and licked his lips, praying to Odin to give him the strength to get through this challenge without further destroying his emaciated legs. He gripped the sword tightly and kept his eyes trained on Tharain, waiting to see what his first move would be.

Tharain circled Ivar slowly, sword pointing at Ivar’s nose. Ivar kept completely still except for his head, gaze fixed on his opponent, his right hand pressing the sword into the ground to appear as if he was putting more weight into it than he actually was. He tried to appear as if he was leaning onto it too much to use it in time.

The corner of Tharain’s mouth quirked, which was all the warning Ivar had before he threw himself onto his back, sword held above him to clash against Tharain’s blade. Ivar pushed Tharain’s sword down with his, then rolled away just as Tharain struck again, his sword penetrating the earth where his head had just been.

Ivar slashed at Tharain’s ankle, but the giant danced away, following the dodge with a downward swing at Ivar. The Viking rolled again, then instantly regretted it as he a thunderbolt of misery slithered through his right thigh. The pain took his breath away, stars danced at the corners of his eyes, but then he saw movement. He raised his sword to deflect Tharain’s blow slightly too late.

Ivar felt liquid on his face. Oh gods, was he crying? No, that was blood. The blade has glanced off of his cheek. He risked hurting his legs further by rolling again, then slamming his forearm roughly into Tharain’s knee. Tharain staggered as his knee buckled on reflex, pushing himself to fall on the ground away from Ivar, hitting it hard. Ivar tightened his jaw, shuddering as the cracks in his fragile thigh bone deepened while he pulled himself on top of his opponent.

Before Ivar could get his mind off of his own agony, Tharain toppled him, now he was on top of Ivar. He gripped the wrist Ivar was using to hold the sword, pinning it to the ground.

Tharain sneered down at him, “Perhaps you weren’t lying after all.”

Rage overpowered anguish. Ivar lunged up and sank his teeth into the crook of Tharain’s shoulder, just missing the man’s jugular.

Tharain yelped, then managed to use his forearm to push Ivar back to the ground. Ivar smiled at him, his lips covered in blood, then spat the red liquid into Tharain’s face.

Tharain chuckled, “I knew it. You really are a viper.”

If only. That bite would’ve killed him. Ivar jerked his arm, trying to get it free to keep fighting, the movement reigniting the flames in his cracked femur. He turned away from Tharain, swallowing back a wince.

Tharain whispered, “Do you concede?”

Gods, now what? He couldn’t move, he could barely think, and he really, really did not want to surrender to this prick, even if it would help reinforce his tale of being a disenfranchised refugee. He doubted he could get close enough to bite again.

Fuck. Fuck.

Ivar took in a deep breath and snarled, “You’ve made your point. Get off of me.”

Tharain’s grip loosened on his wrist and the weight was lifted off of Ivar’s chest as the Pict lifted himself up to a kneel, using a hand to get his copper hair out of his face. He didn’t bother to wipe off the blood Ivar had spat on him, letting it join the blue lines painted onto his visage.

Eithne shook her head, still looking angry, then motioned to Floki. He looked towards whatever she was pointing at, then simply nodded once. She stormed off. Floki watched Ivar like a hawk, but wisely didn’t approach. He knew that rushing over to check Ivar for injuries would just infuriate him more.

Tharain smirked down at Ivar again as he offered his hand, “Are you ready to tell the truth now, viper?”

Ivar begrudgingly took his hand, letting himself be pulled up to sitting, then wiped the blood off of his mouth with his sleeve, making a point to glare into Tharain’s eyes as he did so. He was certain that he looked like a rabid animal. He definitely felt like one, with the metallic taste of Tharain’s blood lingering in his mouth.

“You won. What’s there to tell?” Ivar snapped.

Tharain, still kneeling by Ivar, gingerly touched the bite on his shoulder, then shuddered. He retorted, “You didn’t react like some scared refugee that only knows the bare minimum to defend himself from brigands. You reacted like a warrior.”

“Believe what you want. I did your damned challenge and you won. Have you restored your precious pride?” Ivar spat.

Tharain watched as Eithne came back holding some rags and an old wooden bucket. “No, I haven’t. You still haven’t told me why you’re really here.”

She dropped the bucket on the ground, dipped the rag in, then pressed the wet rag against the bite on Tharain’s shoulder. He winced and squirmed away. Judging by the hardened look on Eithne’s face, she didn’t regret making the bite sting. Floki snickered.

She wet another rag and stepped towards Ivar. He held a hand up, hoping that she’d simply hand it to him, but she ignored it and pressed the rag against the cut on his cheek. He hissed inwardly as whatever liquid she was using to treat their injuries stung his skin.

Tharain continued, “I’m guessing your someone’s son?”

“Every man is someone’s son.”

“You know what I mean, viper.”

“Stop calling me that.” Ivar grumbled.

Tharain eyed him up and down as if seeing him for the first time, “You sound educated when you speak, which tells me you’ve had the time and resources to become educated, a luxury that most cannot afford. You carry yourself as if you expect the world to bow before you. And above all, you clearly well trained when it comes to combat, though you aren’t used to having to employ what you’ve learned.”

Damn. Tharain really had been paying attention. He should’ve committed more to the lie when he first told it and acted simpler, but he’d had to come up with the tall tale on the spot. He should’ve been smarter than to come in so unprepared.

It occurred to him that the truth sounded even more improbable than his original lie. Would Tharain even believe it if he chose to tell it? But he didn’t have to tell the whole truth necessarily, just enough to obfuscate his intentions.

Ivar let out a ragged breath and rasped, “Alright, but you probably won’t believe it.”

Tharain insisted, “Try anyway.”

Ivar began, “I’m a runaway prince.”

Tharain laughed dryly, “You’re right, this is even more ridiculous than your first lie. I suppose you’re going to tell me now that you’re next in line for the throne and running away from an assassination attempt?”

Ivar continued, “No. I’m actually last in line for the throne. I’m the youngest of five, including a half brother. I’m also the only one that hasn’t had a chance to prove myself, so I set off to do so.”

Tharain nodded towards Floki, “With just him? Shouldn’t you have an entire army behind you?”

Ivar smiled wryly, “Who would follow a cripple into the unknown?”

“So you chose the old man?”

“I trust him more than anyone else in this world. Of course I chose him.”

Ivar couldn’t read Tharain’s expression. He didn’t know if the other man believed a single word of this.

“So all of this is a chance to prove… what exactly?”

Ivar rolled his eyes as if Tharain had asked him the most ridiculous question that he’d ever heard. “The point is to prove that I’m not completely useless.”

Tharain stared off into the distance at something Ivar couldn’t see.

The giant eventually lamented, “So the viper is a prince. That isn’t entirely what I expected to hear, yet it makes sense.”

Ivar snorted. “This makes more sense to you?”

Tharain shrugged one shoulder. “It’s easier to imagine you sitting on a throne than it is as some regular peasant trying to get by.”

Ivar’s eyes narrowed, “That sounds suspiciously like an insult.”

Tharain finally stopped watching whatever distant thing that had his attention and met Ivar’s scalding gaze. “Take it how you will, viper. You clearly are used to get what you want and you don’t know how to handle it when you don’t.”

Ivar scoffed and shook his head, “Again, I didn’t come here for a delightful summer vacation. I know that I’ve lived a sheltered life. In fact, I’m painfully aware of it.”

Tharain questioned, “And how exactly do you intend to prove your worth?”

By killing you.

What Ivar said instead was, “I’m not certain yet. But I feel as if an opportunity will present itself soon.”

———————————————————————

The next night, an opportunity did present itself.

The ground rustled as someone darted towards the the Talorcs as they stood guard in front of Floki and Ivar’s tent. It was a woman, speaking quickly, each word she spoke punctuated by a gasp. She had to repeat her sentence three times, due to her distress.

The tent entrance opened suddenly as the woman barged in. Her round face was ruddy, her cheeks streaked with tears. She spoke shrilly, but naturally, it meant nothing to him.

Ivar surreptitiously tapped Floki’s shoulder. The old Viking’s head turned in the direction of their visitor but Ivar couldn’t see his face to gauge his reaction.

The Talorcs swiftly followed the woman into the tent and tried to drag her back out, but she wasn’t leaving easily. She shouted at Ivar again, struggling against her kinsmen as they forcefully led her out.

What the Hel was that about? Ivar sat up straighter, now even more alert than he was before. Floki was on his feet, his ear against the tent’s flimsy wall, eyes blazing as he listened intently. Both cursed the fact that they didn’t know what their captors were saying.

Floki’s head jerked towards Ivar as he heard someone else approaching. Ivar quickly pulled his right leg closer, gritting his teeth as the tender bones in his leg screamed from the movement. He hastily reached into his boot, withdrawing the hidden knife, then crossed his arms again to conceal it.

Tharain appeared in the doorway, face grave. “Saxon scouts have been spotted. I suspect that they’ve been tracking you.”

Ivar didn’t answer, waiting for Tharain to say something more.

The painted warrior wiped his face, “I don’t have many people left that can hold a sword, and a good majority of them still haven’t recovered enough from their imprisonment, which means that we’re going to have to run. I fear that you two will slow us down-”

“You aren’t even going to try to defend yourselves?” Ivar interrupted. “You’re going to let the Christians chase you out?”

Tharain snapped, “Defend ourselves with what, exactly? We’re too few and too injured!”

Ivar coolly replied, “Nobody is running. Nobody is getting left behind. We will make our stand.”

Floki stared at Ivar as if he’d gown another head while Tharain barked a humorless laugh.

“You expect me to believe that you suddenly want to fight for us? You must really take me for an idiot!” Tharain sneered.

Ivar’s demeanor only grew colder. “You are an idiot, but that’s besides the point. We don’t want to die at the hands of the Saxons any more than you and your people do. Speaking of your people, how far do you think that they’ll get, hm? You said yourself, many of them are weak. How many of them will make the trip before the Saxons catch up to them, do you think?”

Tharain’s scowl deepened. “So you suggest that we stay here so that we can all die like heroic fools? You are truly brilliant.”

The young Viking leaned forward, his eyes practically glowing, “I can’t guarantee the life of every person here, but I can promise you that listening to me will spare your people from more deaths.”

“You promise a lot, viper, especially for someone who has never seen combat by his own admission. Are you truly deluded enough to believe that?”

Ivar’s head tilted obstinately, “Hear what I have to say, then you can decide how delusional I am.”

Floki shook his head as if he couldn’t believe the situation that Ivar was getting them into. Tharain still looked unpleasant, but allowed Ivar to speak. As he listened, the ugly look on his face gradually began to recede. He blinked in disbelief, considering what the young man was suggesting.

Tharain finally said, “That could work, but why? Why help us?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t walk, let alone run. And even if I could, Floki and I don’t know this country. I intend to survive this night and many nights after that, and unfortunately, I need you in order to do that.”

Tharain was silent for a moment more before announcing that he’d speak to his people before making a decision.

The moment he was out of earshot, Floki stated, “You know, your father has had some insane schemes in his time. You are definitely following in his footsteps.”

———————————————————————

Eadgar was shocked to see that someone had gotten to the Picts first. From the gasps and confused muttering from his comrades behind him, he knew that he wasn’t alone in his surprise.

The bodies of the painted warriors were strewn about the camp. Blue-tipped arrows were stuck in most of them. The Picts used blue-tipped arrows. Under normal circumstances, Eadgar would’ve found this suspicious, but he knew that the Gauls had ‘recruited’ some of the Picts to fight for them. These ones must have refused to integrate into the larger army, and this was their price. It wasn’t the first time that Eadgar had stumbled onto a scene like this. They truly were animals, willing to turn on each other for anything.

There was a groan. One of them was alive. Eadgar spotted a man dragging himself painfully away from him, covered in blood. Eadgar shook his head, gazing haughtily down at the injured man. Picts truly were pathetic creatures, not much better than pigs.

“Who wants to have a bit of fun?” He sneered, pointing out the pathetic, broken warrior. The other men cackled nastily in response. Together, they stalked towards the injured man, crossing the sea of cadavers to get to their prey.

However, if the Saxons had been paying more attention, they might have noticed that the arrows had actually penetrated the ground, not any of the Picts’ skin. They might’ve noticed that the blood on their bodies didn’t have any discernible sources.

If Eadgar was paying attention, he might’ve noticed that the ‘corpse’ of an ashen-haired woman still had her blade in her hand as he stepped over her. But he didn’t notice it until she’d dug it into the back of his left leg.

He howled as he pitched forward, the sound not entirely human as he felt the blade continue to drag its way through his shin. With his good leg, Eadgar kicked her roughly and started to shout to his men when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The injured man that he’d been intent on torturing for amusement crawled towards Eadgar, teeth bared in a predatory smile.

Eadgar shuddered, utterly convinced that he was looking at The Deceiver in the flesh. The demon’s blue eyes glowed like twin flames as he pulled himself towards the Saxon soldier. Eadgar’s scrambled to get away from the Devil, his left leg useless and limp. The ashen-haired heathen had cut him in such a way that he couldn’t move his foot anymore.

The Devil only crawled faster, catching up to Eadgar quickly, pulling himself in top of the terrified Saxon, pinning him down by the throat. Eadgar struggled, trying to pry the strong fingers off of his throat, but the beast was stronger. The blonde heathen woman was by the Devil’s side, offering him her dagger. Eadgar watched in horror as the demon smiled beautifully, brought the dagger up to his lips, and lapped Eadgar’s blood off of the blade.

A moment later, the dagger had drawn a jagged line across Eadgar’s throat. The last thing he saw the the Deceiver laughing at him while the heathen woman turned on her heel towards the rest of his men, who weren’t faring much better than he was.

They’d join each other again in the Kingdom of Heaven.

——————��————————————————

Ivar left the Saxon to bleed out, hearing a fight going on somewhere behind him. They had felled quite a few of the Christians before the rest were aware that they were under attack, which brought both sides to even numbers. After a quick glance around, he was pleased to see that his side hadn’t lost anyone yet.

He spotted one of the Saxons trying to sneak up on Eithne, who was occupied with another swordsman. Ivar quickly threw the knife he was holding, watching as it embedded itself in the shoulder of its intended target. Eithne finished off the warrior she had been fighting and turned around, slicing through her other attacker in one swift arc. She nodded at Ivar in gratitude.

Meanwhile, Floki seemed to be overjoyed to be able to cross blades with the Christians again. He had a menacing, gleeful grin stretching his lips as he pursued all of those holding shields adorned with red crosses in his path. Those unfortunate enough to be in his path of destruction seemed discombobulated by his unconventional swordsmanship, making it all to easy for him to break their defenses.

In short, the ambush was more successful than Ivar ever could have imagined.

#ivar the boneless #vikings #vikings au #floki the boat builder

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smiletimeisrunningout · 1 year ago

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You'd think, a little part of her thought bitterly, that he'd recoil from my touch as he so often does, and make things easier for me.

So what, it took being a little bit impaled to get closer to him? How was she supposed to return to a normal life now, at distance, knowing how soft he could be? "Hey, I'd stay if you stayed, but I know, I know. Inappropriate," she smiled at him affectionately, because of course he had a point worrying, his reputation was at stake.

She was quick to disrobe enough to clean up while leaving the stitches alone, if only because the sedative wouldn't last long, and Emma had learned the hard way that while she was the type to keep on walking after stabbed, once she settled down, once it was all done, she didn't take the pain too well, easily infuriated by the fact that it wouldn't go away and that it limited her. So she had to do it while she still didn't feel the worst of it, and also because she didn't want Ben and Caleb to walk in on her in a state of undress, bath water turning red fast and reminding her that her clothing needing far more tending than her.

She wrapped the bandage around her waist, washed her undershirt first so she could wear it in case they returned sooner than expected, than the vest that went on top of it, having to slow down because the stabbing pain had returned and kneeling helped only so much. That, and she felt impossibly weak - another infuriating thing to add to the list.

By the time Ben and Caleb came, she had been forced to take a break, least she fainted, and was happy to welcome Caleb's hug even if her body protested. "Oh, sweetie, it's alright, I'm fine. You know me," she promised, hugging him as tightly as she could without risking to hurt him, "I'm just glad he attacked me, at least I could kill him on the spot. James' sister Lucy is there often..."

Hell, he had gotten lucky that his death had been quick and nearly painless, because if he had touched another woman, a friend, Emma would have considered well within her powers to rip him apart.

"Sadly, we both know the doctor has nothing to put my pain to sleep..." she answered to Ben, smiling encouragingly, and she recaptured Caleb before he could let her go fully, at least to give him a one armed hug, "Not done with you. But in the morning I'll go see him, if it makes you feel any better. I don't want to use all of my limited medical supplies to avoid infections, I'll take some of his. Otherwise next time I'm getting myself stabbed in the woods I'll kick it. Speaking of which... I apologize, I haven't finished yet. I wanted to wash my cloak but I'm too weak. The blood loss has made me a little faint, I figured you'd rather if I paused before attempting more laundry, and not... pass out over it," she glanced at it, and then at Caleb briefly, because it wasn't exactly a great view - it had collected her blood while Ben stitched her on top of what she had bled before, so it looked very much like part of a murder scene.

With her arm around Caleb, she suddenly found herself leaning more against him, exhausted from the very same thing.

"The ground, too, the water... I'm sorry, I'm leaving your quarters in such a state." She paused, making a face and looking at Caleb, "I'm being responsible about my health. It's a weird feeling. I really don't like it." With a grimace from the pain, she looked up at Ben and gave him a weak smile, "Are you two alright? Everything went well?"

Although Emma was a decidedly soft creature, what with her affinity for sunny smiles, delivering flowers to unsuspecting camp followers, and comforting the stockade horses during storms, her hands belonged to that of a warrior. They were rough and war-torn, and yet once her fingertips brushed along Benjamin's cheek, he took solace in the gesture. He was accustomed to roughness, so the texture of her skin was a kindness, a familiarity that briefly caused his lashes to flutter closed.

"I'll do as you wish."

His eyes lifted again, catching the dancing candleflame within Emma's gaze. He nearly laughed. In all their time knowing one another, she had never once acquiesced so easily, and yet somehow, Benjamin believed her.

"I'll come back," he promised. Seeming to remember that this was his tent, he sheepishly added, "Brewster and I will escort you back to your quarters. You're welcome to stay here until you're well enough, but given how you've already expressed a discontent with this idea, I figured I'd make this as painless for you as possible."

"Thank you."

It was an odd sentiment. Even though Benjamin knew he did a lot in camp, it was rare for anyone, even his very commander and dear friends, to show a hint of gratitude. Unbidden, a lump formed in his throat, and once her lips grazed across his cheek, that painful knot worsened.

Drawing a soft breath, Benjamin rocked back onto his heels and rose on wobbly limbs, the moment forcibly ended. "I'll be back," he promised again. Realizing that he was still holding onto Emma's hand, he released her and rubbed his palm over his thigh, almost as if her very touch had burned him. "Goodnight, Swan."

Caleb was uncharacteristically nettled. After they'd buried Randall in the woods, the whaler spat upon the grave and then urinated upon the newly disturbed plot of earth. Benjamin allowed the foul behavior. He, too, held no love in his heart for reprehensible monsters, and once their work was through, they trekked back across camp towards his tent.

"Remember," Benjamin instructed, "Randall defected. This way, no one will ever bother looking for him here in camp."

"As if anyone gives a shite," Caleb snapped. "All I can say is, the bastard's lucky he's already dead."

Benjamin hummed in agreement. And then once they made sure it was safe to enter his quarters, he and his friend stepped inside to check on Emma.

All at once, Caleb gathered the princess into his strong arms, mindful of her wound as he greeted, "Oi, Emma-love, how you doin', uh? I'd offer to kill that lobcock myself, but it seems ya already did the fun part for me."

Benjamin met with Emma's gaze, but he couldn't bring himself to smile. "How's your wound?" he softly asked. "Do we need to wake Dr. Weston, after all?"

#see now she's talking again lol an attempt to put some distance again plus Caleb is a buffer #they are so DANGEROUS. they went one year with decent distance and then this was like dflhgflkg all at once #I don't think they (Emma) will go another year without basically touching now that they crossed that line tho lol #I'm also amused because I think the starting point will keep being 'Emma gets hurt/is hurting' between migraines and emotions and protectin #Sackett and all that so that's like. the conditions for them to allow closeness is that she's half dead lmaoo #honorhearted #a calming calamity

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soleilnomoon · 3 years ago

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Dunno if you do multi-character scenarios but I'm going to ask anyway👻 I thought about a fluff/angst one in which Zoro and Law's (seperate) s/o was critically injured in a fight but kept on fighting and then after the battle passing out for a week. When they wake up they ask them why they did it they say something along the lines of "I promised you I wouldn't die and I keep my promises" (sorry if it's too specififc, this idea had been swimming in my head for days😅)

hiii so sorry this took so long, work keeps me busy these days ♥️ ꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱ hope this was enough angst for you 🤓

1.2k words, gn reader (no pronouns, babey), sfw, angst-lite, maybe a bit of fluff (i’m not gr8 at it ok), no real warnings

there’s never a good time to say i told you so; it’s not really built in him to hold things like that over people — not seriously, anyway — but with you, he constantly feels like saying i told you so. you push yourself harder than necessary; is it to compensate for a lack of strength? is it to challenge yourself? or to prove your worth to your crew?

it baffles him constantly. the beauty of working as a unit alongside luffy and that pompous, idiot cook, is that he rarely has to worry about them not being able to take care of themselves. and maybe it’s because you two are dating that this feels a little different; but he doesn’t like it, not one bit.

he hates seeing you get hurt, hates the way you leap headfirst into danger, hates how you nearly escape death almost every single time. it’s not enough for him to be strong enough to protect his captain and the rest of the crew — but he has to make sure that you’re protected too. between you and luffy, he’s not sure who he values more — and, it’s never been a contest, as you have always understood the love he holds for his captain. it’s hard not to care for him.

but, when you willingly throw yourself in danger like that, his priorities shift.

it’s not enough that chopper is a phenomenal doctor, that they rushed you to him as soon as they could, or that he started treatment right away. there aren’t many things that frighten zoro, but the sight of your unmoving body on the battlefield brings every single anxious thought to life. he paces through the corridors, snaps at everyone else, refuses to sleep, and barely eats.

everything about your condition consumes his thoughts; he never thought his heart would ever be a source of weakness for him, but it is. still, he stays by your side as you rest, sleep evading him day in and day out. nighttime is the worst, because the silence of the ship rouses the shadows around your room — and, naturally, he hallucinates. all he hears are taunts of his inability to protect you, of his incompetence, of how he isn’t strong enough.

when you do eventually wake up, he’s seated at your bedside, nodding off but not quite sleeping completely, the restlessness has gotten to him badly enough that any movement he detects has him up and alert. despite sleeping for all that time — and, a week is a long time — you roll over and yawn, the fatigue still lingering over your body, in your mind. it’s hard to focus but when you see him sitting there, you manage to reach a hand out and brush your fingers against his knee.

if he wasn’t so aware of your presence, he’d swear he was hallucinating. he opens his mouth, but closes it right away, thoughts swimming around clumsily in his mind. he’s absolutely exhausted, but he asks only one question.

“why?”

his voice is so quiet you almost don’t hear him, but you see the severe expression on his face, the dark circles underneath his eyes, and you only smile gently in response before giving him your true answer.

“remember, what i promised you?” you pause, give him a moment to think, but eventually add, “i told you that i wouldn’t die. and i always keep my promises.” it’s such a bold, absurd statement that it makes him laugh —for the first time in days, actually — you end up laughing alongside him and rolling onto your back, giving him room to climb into the bed with you. you don’t consider yourself a reckless person, but that brush with death was a little too close for comfort.

to be frank, he’s quite disappointed in you; your blatant disregard for following his directives, for wanting to do your own thing — following your own path, and whatnot — for making him worry as a doctor, as your captain, and as your lover, really sends him spirilling. it’s all too new for him, honestly.

normally, everyone falls in line, they don’t exactly question his authority, but they trust him implicitly. he’s told you time and time again, plans are made for a reason. there are contingency plans for those original plans that are also made for a reason. law spends a lot of time planning — and brooding. but, he always manages to find a way to also have separate plans for you too.

except— you still throw him for a loop, still deviate from his predictions, still give him more wrinkles than he cares to deal with. trafalgar law, by nature, is extremely patient — he has to be, the pirate world is brutal, unforgiving, and there’s little room for mistakes. so, when you end up wounded, end up on the verge of death, practically bleeding out in his arms, he makes it his business to do everything to save your life.

and he does. he knows your body needs rest, knows he shouldn’t fuss over you in secret, knows he shouldn’t be hard on his crewmates when really he’s just stressed over you. but he can’t help it. at night he finds himself unable to sleep, and despite bepo telling him to take better care of himself, he refuses. because what’s the point if you never wake up?

the thought haunts him; he’s barely eaten and has consumed enough coffee to keep him awake for weeks. it’s in the middle of a warm afternoon when you finally wake up; a week in bed has your bones and body aching, although you suppose it might also have to do with you being severely injured not too long ago. but, you notice your captain right away, staring at you with a strange look on his face. it’s a mix between disbelief, fury, and relief.

“care to explain yourself?” his tone is even, much too calm for the explosive feelings that lie deep inside of him. he keeps telling himself to keep it together but feels his control slipping.

you don’t have any legitimate excuse, but you sigh a bit, press your lips together and think. the mattress dips under his weight as he sits next to you, his fingers tilting your chin up so you can look at him properly. “i’m waiting,” he says, the words coming out more curt than he means for them to be.

an idea forms in your head; when in doubt, a bit of light banter always gets you out of tricky situations especially with him.

“like i said ages ago,” you start, a cheeky grin appearing on your weary face, “i don’t die easily, and even if i do happen to die, i’ll still come back.” it’s not funny at all, but you do your best to school your features. law stares at you for a bit longer than he means to and, finally, sighs.

“you’re such a handful,” he scolds, but you can hear the tenderness behind his words, his fingers moving to glide along your jaw. and you smile to yourself, despite the fact that you could have died for real, making a mental note to try and not make your boyfriend worry more than he needs to.

#one piece imagine #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law x y/n #fic request #one piece angst #zoro angst #law angst #trafalgar law x y/n #one piece hcs

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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Hello! Can you write one about Nanami where the reader is oblivious and they're really close to Gojo so he gets jealous often. Sometimes Gojo does things purposely to annoy him and one day he just lost his composure and accidentally admitted his feelings for you.

I hope u accept if you're not too busy. Thank you!!!

— a little push

— sometimes all nanami needs is a little push.

nanami kento x fem! reader

thank you for the request anon! i’m not sure if reader is oblivious enough but i hope you like it! there’s some thick pining here hur hur, i hope you like it! i never knew i needed an easily flustered and awkward nanami in my life also this is unedited as usual

check my bio for masterlist and my milestone event! (◕ᴗ◕✿)

“Do you mind?”

Nanami sighs, silently praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear the way his heart is absolutely panicking and beating wildly right now. You’d randomly pushed him inside the teachers’ office the moment he got back to the institute at work, and now he’s doomed to hide his feelings while you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes, a shaky yet excited grin painted on your face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you wave your hands in front of you, although he can tell you’re not apologetic at all. Nanami clears his throat when you step backwards to give him space, unsure if he’s happy or sad about the distance. “I was just really excited to see you back.”

Your carefree, lighthearted voice, along with that little jump in your toes combined with your statement – you’re basically asking Nanami to shrivel up already.

The stoic man remains composed, though, only shifting to adjust his tie while he stares down at you. You’re still somewhat bouncing on your feet, teeth biting your lip – a habit you had when you want to say something but contemplating whether you should. Tilting away to hide the slight flush in his cheeks, Nanami sighs again, pretending to be tired.

The last thing he wants to admit that even though he is exhausted from work, is that you’d never bother him. In fact, having you bombard him like this makes him feel like he didn’t deal with special grade curse by himself all alone just an hour ago.

“If there’s something you want to say, I suggest you get it over with. I don’t want to stay overtime and wait until the blindfolded creep comes around.”

You giggle at his insult, hiding behind your cupped palms. Crap, Nanami looks away and focuses on the birds outside instead, suddenly finding them so interesting despite never paying attention to them before. Maybe that was the curse of crushes – it had people acting differently and in complete contrast with their behavior.

“About that,” you begin almost shyly now, and Nanami practically bursts when he sees you tapping both of your pointer fingers together, gaze tilted away from him.

It makes him wonder you’re nearly on the same skill to Gojo, yet still somehow look like a small, innocent being that makes him want to protect you from everything – even if you were more than capable of handling things yourself. Well, Nanami concludes to himself, maybe you’re really just that paradoxical that it makes sense why he can never think straight around you. Maybe he’s really not supposed to understand the complexity of his feelings when you were a phenomena to begin with already.

“You see…Satoru asked me out.”

Nanami stiffens at your statement for a split second before his head whips to you so fast. You’re observant – of course you are, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer – and you easily pick up in his sudden change of demeanor. Your brow raises at his abrupt reaction, to which Nanami conceals by flexing his neck and rolling his shoulders back.

“I am simply tired from work,” he haf-lies, “So, Satoru asked you out? Will you say yes?”

His words and tone are monotonous, almost bored even, but deep inside he’s so close to beating the crap out of his co-worker. Well, not really, Nanami isn’t a man of violence, but he’s jealous. Of course he is – he’s liked you ever since Principal Yaga hired you.

He’s never told Satoru about his little crush on you. He would be stupid to do such; Satoru would tease him to no end and maybe even be as childish to go as far as pushing him to you. Typical elementary shit, Nanami cringes to himself, watching as you look down at your feet with a pout. Now that confused him. He isn’t sure what your body language means at all, but patient as ever, Nanami only waits.

“Well,” you scratch your forehead, “I’m really flattered. I want to say yes because Satoru is a nice guy—”

“He is not. I do not respect him.”

You roll your eyes at the way his eyes darkens, “—but also I’m not sure if I should. I mean, Satoru doesn’t really date, you know? He’ll be with like one girl and be with another the next week. I just don’t want to…like, fall for that, I guess. Not that I won’t, because he’s totally not my type—”

“It’s just a yes or no,” Nanami cuts you off, his words coming out a lot harsher than he intends it to be. It’s not that he’s annoyed at your rambling, he actually finds it so adorable when you get so lost in your train of thoughts that your mind just travels from one place to another, and seeing how your eyes just leave farther from reality is something he’s always find such an attractive quirk, but not now – not when his infuriating co-worker is intending to mess with your feelings. “Do you want to go or not? Yes or no? It’s as simple as that.”

You blink back at him in surprise, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that Nanami was a no-bullshit man who hit things right on the head, a huge contrast to your happy-go-lucky self, but he’s right.

It is that simple – and you’re complicating things all over again.

When you give him an answer, Nanami has to muster all his energy to not deflate. He’s tired – but now his exhaustion and even the heartbreak comes crashing down all over him that he’s immediately weighed down and overwhelmed – so much so that all he wants is to go home.

“Yes, I want to go.”

It’s his day off.

Like everything else in his life, Nanami plans everything down to the last minute of his day. His day off consisted of him having the privilege to sleep in until 8am, then breakfast with coffee from that great café a five minute walk away from his apartment, then he’ll be reading books in his study for two hours. Comes after that is lunch, and he’ll brows through some TV shows, pick up his clothes from the dry cleaning, get that special limited edition dinner of his favorite sushi, read books again and call it a day.

Simple, peaceful, no hassle – it’s the perfect day to relax.

Except it isn’t.

Because it’s your day off too, and you’re out on a date with Satoru. He still remembers how happy you looked then upon accepting the white haired man’s invitation, your nimble fingers wrapped around his sleeve as you shyly asked him to come with you.

He doesn’t know why you had to bring him, but he doesn’t question it, nonetheless. Nanami wants to see how Satoru would react, if there could be any indication from the man behind his blindfold that he had ill intentions. Oddly enough, there didn’t seem to be any. Satoru only beamed and deflated into a chibi, enthusiastically nodding along with you while you planned your date together.

Nanami took it upon himself to leave.

With a silent scoff, Nanami placed his dinner down on the counter. Because it’s his day off – and mostly because he doesn’t feel like himself – Nanami went out to buy the limited edition sushi wearing a white shirt and some gray sweatpants, too forlorn and a little jealous to even bother dressing up.

It’s stupid, really. He’s been looking forward for this sushi for a long, long time, but now that he’s had it, he can’t even enjoy the taste. His mind keeps going back to you.

Were you having fun with Satoru? Were you enjoying your time? Was Satoru treating you well? What was Satoru’s intentions when it came with you? The last time Nanami checked, you and him got along really well and you’re mostly the one who whacks the taller man in the head upside down when he’s being stupid, almost like two peas in a pod, except you were the smarter one. He’d been so sure you’re nothing but friends and yet…it all lead to this.

Nanami pushes his sushi away. They no longer taste like anything, the texture like dried paper on his mouth. He wipes his lips with a napkin, staring longingly at well…nothing. His walls were plain and empty, and suddenly, Nanami can’t help but compare himself to Gojo.

You both planned to go to the local carnival. There’d be lots of foods and even parlor shops, ferris wheel rides and photo booths to create memories. Of course you and Satoru would go there; both of you enjoyed loud, bustling crowds, claiming there was something amazing about basking in the “lives of humans when ignorant of curses” while Nanami prefers his peace and silence.

Had you gone out on a date with him instead, Nanami can’t guarantee he’ll be any fun. He most definitely wouldn’t ask you to go to a carnival with him either. It was loud, cramped, crowded, and it’s too chaotic for him to ever enjoy your presence and enjoy it alone.

Nanami closes the sushi box, turns on the TV and lets is play on the background, a wet towel above his eyes to relax his tired eyes.

He hopes you’re having fun. He hopes Satoru is treating you well. Nanami just ignores the slight pain in his chest when he thinks of you, laughing and touching anyone but him, and he could picture it already. You’ve always been so open and welcoming to everyone, he knows you’ll have fun today, too.

That’s one of the things he finds most endearing about you – that your smile never fades and you never forget about the simple, little things in life to focus on to keep your sanity after facing curse after curse.

He’s fine, he tells himself. Satoru may be annoying, but he knows you could have fun with him, and you deserved to be happy more than anyone else.

Nanami is about to fall asleep on his couch when his phone vibrates on the coffee tables. Groaning, he flicks off the towel to his shoulders, grumbling about how Principal Yaga better be respecting his day off, but the last thing he expects to see is your contact name flashing on the screen. In the contact photo, you’re winking with a peace sign held above your head.

You look so utterly adorable Nanami just wants to kiss you. He remembers this photo was taken when Yuuji got bored and asked to play games on his phone. Upon finding that there was none – of course there was none – the strawberry-haired student opted for taking pictures of everyone instead. There’s one with Nobara growling, Megumi sipping his boba-tea with dead eyes as if he’s so done with the world, more than twenty pictures of Satoru flexing his muscles and posing like an idiot, and then there’s yours.

Nanami remembers staring at his phone for a solid minute, his gallery actually blessed with your face in it. The sun shines behind you on that photo and you’re absolutely shining. He thinks that’s when he truly fell in love.

And it just so happened the love of his life is calling, making his heart skip a beat because shouldn’t you be with Gojo? Why were you calling him? Did something wrong happen?

Nanami doesn’t waste another second before swiping the green icon, already standing up from the couch as he grabs his jacket. He had this weird inkling something is wrong, why else would you call him?

His theories are proven true when your voice comes out shaky. “H-hello?”

“Good evening,” he greets stiffly, brows furrowed as he listens in on the way you seem to be shuffling around. “Is there something wrong?”

“I, uhm,” he hears you sniffle through the other line, “Yeah, I guess there is…Satoru just texted he can’t come because Principal Yaga suddenly sent him to a mission overseas…and then I just realized that Satoru’s been summoned by the elders and he’s just refusing to show up, so now they cornered him, I guess… anyways, I’m talking too much and I don’t want to be a bother, but would you maybe…like to hang out with me?”

Nanami’s hand freezes on the doorknob. “Hang out…professionally?”

He immediately wants to smack himself in the forehead for that. Out of all things he could’ve said, he just had to utter something unintelligent. He hears you snicker in the background and Nanami’s ears redden.

He quickly regains his composure with a clear of his throat, suddenly remembering that Satoru’s ditched you, so now you’re asking him instead. It kind of feels like he’s just a replacement, but Nanami buries this feeling down before it consumes him, wondering if he’s already regretting changing into better clothes because he actually agreed to go to a carnival with you.

Upon hearing your happy, “Okay! I’ll wait for you then!”, Nanami realizes that he doesn’t actually mind. Especially not with you.

The carnival is loud.

Nanami dreads the moment he steps out of his car, his body swallowed by the bustling crowd and defeaning music of banging drums and clashing instruments. There’s a hundred scents everywhere – smoke, fish, glazed apples – he doesn’t know where to begin or how to focus.

He nearly turns back to his hair, about to shoot you a text that maybe this is beyond him after all. His head begins to spin when he’s only pushed deeper into the crowd, people bumping into him with every single second and it’s so suffocating. It doesn’t make sense to him how anyone could possibly go on a date like this and enjoy it. He knows for sure this chaos won’t let him enjoy his date’s presence because he’s too busy trying to get away from it all.

Nanami staggers for a bit when a strong hand tugs him to the side. Soon, he finds himself pressed flush against you in a tight corner, your hips warm on his. “Hi,” you breathe out airily, lashes fanning and fluttering in that same manner that always made his heart do complete flips.

“Hello,” he greets back with a small bow out of faux respect, but really, he’s just keeping his head down because you look so beautiful in that moment he doesn’t even know where to look. You’re warm and soft next to his hard and stiff muscles, the scent of roses and vanilla mixing in with the street smoke and Nanami’s head grows dizzy, his hand around yours tightening for comfort. “Y/N…I do not prefer this crowd. Can I take you back home instead? You must be tired – I’ll prepare dinner for you.”

Nanami blinks back in surprise when he sees you nod, a slight grimace on your face, and you practically bury your face in his bicep as you groan, “It’s too noisy for me too. Let’s just hang out at your place.”

So you end up in his immaculately clean apartment, admiring and staring at the boring furniture. Nanami changes into more comfortable clothes and whips out something to cook, not wanting to feed you measly take out when you’re probably famished. He watches with side glances as you pick up a photo of him with his parents when he was younger, cooing and giggling at the baby version of him.

“Nanamin, you’re so cute!”

Nanami scoffs and turns back to the heated water in the bowl, arms hard as they cross against his chest covered with an apron. “Please do not call me cute. I am anything but.”

“No, you’re really cute,” you insist, but after seeing Nanami’s flustered frown, you eventually give up and give the poor man a break. Later, you wobble next to him, watching with curious eyes and a small smile as he adds the vegetables into the soup, moving expertly as he diced up the onions to the side. The sheer focus and attention on his daily tasks makes him falter, and he suddenly finds it so hard to function now.

“Why are you staring at me? Is there something so interesting about slicing up onions?”

“No, not really,” you say absentmindedly, the slight plop of the ingredients echoing. “It’s just – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way. Domestic, I mean, but it looks good on you,” you nod to yourself, and Nanami finds himself struggling to act as if your presence wasn’t making him go crazy while he proceeds to cook. “In fact, everything looks good on you, and I find you really interesting!”

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, assisting him silently with mixing the bowl even when he didn’t ask you to. Unaware that he’s now focused on you, watching you cook with him with you pressed up against his side, almost as if it’s right where you belong, Nanami feels the same with you. You also look good being this domestic with him, and he suddenly blurts out, “Would you like to stay with me? Like this?”

Your eyes slide over his in a slow fashion, slow enough that his brain hotwires at the fear maybe he’s said something wrong. But Nanami immediately swallows it down, huffing and turning away from you with that stoic expression again. “Forgive me. That was weird—”

“Why would it be weird?” you laughed to yourself before bumping your hips with his, “You’re the one who invited me here. Of course I want to stay.”

That’s…that’s not what he means.

Nanami is left staring openly at you while you help him set the table and you proceed to talk about how you didn’t really want to go to the carnival but Satoru insisted you’d have fun, so you went anyway even if you’d much prefer to be somewhere else. He’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your lips move and how you swing the house slippers on your big toe, your legs crossed on top of another and your figure slightly hunched across from him.

You look so comfortable and welcomed in his home that it puts him at ease too, not worried that he has to impress you anything because it’s you, and Nanami could actually be vulnerable enough to laugh with you over a bowl of vegetable soup.

It’s fine, he lies to himself again, it’s fine that you don’t know he likes you even if he tends to slip and be obvious sometimes. Because at least you’re with him in that moment, and he lies to himself again that it’s fine, that maybe next time he’ll tell you, but he doesn’t worry about. How could he worry about it when you’re snorting so loud over a lame joke he said that rice nearly came out your nose, and he’s so drunk over the sound of your bubbly laughter that something flutters deep within his belly?

When you help him wash the dishes and bask in the silence instead, comfortable over the lack of words and nothing but the sound of his faucet running and the slight rubbing of towels against dishes heard in the background, Nanami is unsure whether he’s glad that Satoru ditched you on your first date.

It doesn’t stop there.

Nanami only keeps falling in love with you more. He’s been doing a good job of keeping his feelings to himself because the last thing he wants is to have you stay away from him, but Satoru was really getting on his nerves.

He’s just come back from exorcising a curse when he sees you and Satoru play-wrestling in the field with the other students. Megumi is grumbling to himself in the corner, Yuuji is laughing and cheering on you to tackle down his sensei who’s currently going down in high-pitched laughter, Toge pumping his fists and screaming, “Salmon, salmon!”

It’s a chaotic sight – one that he usually doesn’t mind – until you finally pin Satoru down on the ground, your ass above his crotch. Satoru’s hands then come up to squeeze your ass and hips under the false pretense he’s struggling to push you off him, but Nanami knows better.

“Give up already!” you tease the other sorcerer who’s still wriggling underneath you, and Nanami sees it before it happens.

Satoru’s legs bend beneath you and he tries to pin you under him in quick movements, but Nanami is faster, his reflexes taking over. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Nanami tugs you and pulls you forward until you collide on his chest. He’s breathing hard, eyes narrowed at the arrogant smirk painted on Satoru’s features. Meanwhile, you’ve softened in Nanami’s grip, hands fisting his shirt that has him hardening up out of sheer protectiveness.

“Oh, Nanamin!” Satoru beams while wiping the dirt on his hands across his uniform, “Glad to see you here. You wanna join training too?”

“This is hardly training,” he retorts with a clenched jaw, “You’re harassing and disrespecting your fellow sorcerer because you can never keep your dirty hands to yourself,” before Satoru could defend himself, he’s already all over you, his hand tilting your chin side to side to check for any injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere? Did this bastard do anything else?”

“No, not really—”

“Why do you care so much, Nanamin?” Satoru teases, and the students all huddle to watch the commotion. Everyone can feel the tension rising, and Nanami only stiffens up further when he feels you lean closer to his warmth almost absentmindedly. “She and I were just playing around, no hard feelings, no foul play. We’re just having fun, right, Y/N?”

“She is not someone you can just have fun with, Satoru. You’ve already crossed the line when you ditched her on your first date, and you didn’t even bother texting or calling back when I drove her home. It’s disrespectful, and she deserves better than that.”

“Nanami—”

“I was busy,” Satoru sighs dramatically, “And if she deserves better than me, then who would it be? I can take care her of her, you know, she and I have been besties for like what, a year now? I’ll be good to her,” he smirks, and Nanami wants nothing more than to punch him square in the jaw. “Besides, it’s not like she’s dating anyone else. She’s single and ready to mingle—”

“Maybe she is, but I’m not,” Nanami deadpans, his harsh tone shocking everyone.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you squeak under him, and Nanami falls silent. He’s never thought of confessing to you, especially not this way, and Nobara is biting Yuuji’s jacket behind them to muffle her squeals. Panda is clapping his hands and whispers oh, here we go, followed by Toge’s salmon salmon.

It dawns on him now that everyone knows he likes you after all, and now that he’s confronted with the situation, he can’t run away from it. Not that Nanami plans on running away, for he is a man and his pride doesn’t allow him to evade situations like this.

He just wishes it could’ve gone out better.

“Forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable,” Nanami releases his grip on you, loosening his tie that makes him feel like he’s choking both on air and his words. Through his cool stature, he’s actually sweating inside his clothes, and it doesn’t help you’re patient with him too, head tilted to the side curiously and so horribly cutely he might combust. “But I have always been, and I still am, utterly in love with you.”

Nobara and Yuuji no longer hold back as they scream to themselves, the former slapping the latter in his back while Megumi only shakes his head, muttering “about time,” under his breath. Maki snickers to herself and Satoru is stunned, but it’s nothing compared to the way you shrink under his gaze for a moment.

He believes you’re going to run away from him because of his blatant confession; it wasn’t romantic at all, and the kids are still screaming too loudly for him to form coherent thoughts.

Nanami begins to form a deep bow, ready to apologize wholeheartedly and to politely ask you to forget this if you wish – he would respect your decision. But just as his gaze met the ground, he’s thrown off balance as you jump on him, soft glossy lips crashing into his.

The screams and cheers of everyone are suddenly drowned out when he feels your lips molding onto his, and he can feel you smiling happily, giggling while his hands tentatively run down your hips to hold you close. It’s unprofessional, displeasing, and downright horrendous to be kissing someone during work hours while the students are watching, especially because his clothes are crumpled from your eager touch and you’re on top of his chest, but Nanami absolutely doesn’t give a single fuck because he’s kissing you back fervently.

It’s what he’s always wanted – you’re the one he’s always wanted, and now that he has you in his hold, he’s not easily letting you go.

“See? I told you guys,” Satoru proudly puffs his chest up in the background, “All Nanamin needs is a little push.”

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