#they owed each other so much. man.. even if they meet again it won't be 13 huh. that's the tragedy for me

[ravensmadreads]

The Mess of Us

A/N: i have no excuse honestly. I've imprinted on David York for reasons unfathomable to my own brain. This is my attempt at giving him a redemption arc? A softer backstory? My heart and soul? Who knows.

Warnings: uhhhh lots of angst (i mean i tried), almost entirely canon compliant, vague-ish attempt at smut, mild cursing, insane use of italics. (Also: english is not my first language and im faking being a writer but i think this came out okay??? Pls be kind he's my lil babie!!)

Summary: I gave david york my heart and then proceeded to bash it with a sledgehammer - forgive me :p this is the same universe as What Love Means

Taglist: @fuckyeahdindjarin cause i wouldn't be writing without you; @chronically-ghosted thank u to listening to me cry about Dave, and my writing, and myself - i owe u my life; @wannab-urs you absolute maniac i adore u; @timelordfreya u were so kind on the accompanying piece for this i hope you like this too <3

David York

You've known that name for a long time. Stayed with the man that inhabits it even longer. He goes by Dave now. Lives in a suburban home. Has two daughters. An "office job". A respectable man. A good man. A little misguided perhaps. A little bit more jaded than he used to be. More broken than you remember. The light in his eyes all but snuffed out. But a good man.

He was always a good man.

Even when he was no longer yours.

Even when he was no longer David.

****

David York and his sunshine. Neighbours. Best friends. Light of each others lives.

You're two halves of one whole in a way that makes no sense from the outside, but when you tread close enough you can pinpoint the exact strands that join your soul to his. The way his heart is an exact mirror to yours. The way your smile reflects the sun in his eyes and his warmth leaves you feeling more loved than any being in the entire universe. You'd stumbled across him, buried between the pages of a book twice the size of his head, and you thought: Oh God. It's you. It's going to be you. And you decided you'd never let him go.

Until he decided to leave.

He's so excited when he gets the call. When he makes his plans and packs his bags. When he tells you all about the good he's going to do, the hero he's going to become.

"I'll be back soon sunshine. You won't even know I'm gone."

You try to convince him to stay. With everything you've got in you. All your jokes, all your warmth, all your schemes. When that fails you give him your heart. Your tears. Explain that you can't live without him. That he can't expect you to live without him and not fall apart at the seams because he's the thread that holds you together. And when you see the anguish on his face at your confession, you revel a little because you think you've won. He's going to stay for you because of course he is. He's your David. He cups your cheeks in his hands. Lips meet your forehead as his words break your heart:

"I'm sorry sunshine. You know I have to go. I have to do this. You know."

So you wipe off your tears and you smile. Because that's what you're supposed to do for a friend and that's what you do for him. Give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Tell him to be safe.

"Don't get your butt kicked too much David. I need you back in one piece."

And that's the first time David York turns his back on your smile.

****

You wait for him. Like the inexplicable fool you are. Wander aimlessly in the streets around your childhood home like a spirit too tired to haunt anyone but itself. Waiting for him to come back and spark you alive again. Awakening for the few weeks of leave he has before reverting to your state of nothingness the minute the door closes behind him. Flitting like a ghost of yourself, nothing tethering you to this place, but still incapable of moving on without him.

Because he was David York. Your best friend.

Your good man. Your solid rock.

Until he wasn't.

Until he left.

****

You learn to make your way without him. Stumble, fall and scrape your knees more than once, without him by your side clucking and fussing like the mother hen he was. Without him to hold you up and bring you close:

"You’ve got to be careful honey. I can't be losing my sunshine."

You find a purpose and make your stand into the big bad world but all of it feels hollow without him by your side. You learn to stitch people up, bandage their wounds, hold bleeding skin in place and snap broken bones back together again. He laughs when he finds out, equal parts amused and proud.

"Looks like you became the anti-Dave sunshine."

And you smile for him, because of course you do. You don't tell him that everything you're learning, you're learning because of him. Because of the sheer wall of terror that's settled in your spine since the moment he walked away. Because of the David that comes to you in your dreams. The one that crumbles in front of you; broken and damaged and begging for help. The one you're trying so hard to save.

You may be his sunshine, but he was always your sun, and you'll protect him, even if he doesn't want you to.

****

The David that comes to you now is not yours. He's an off brand version of himself. A cheap copy. An imposter that calls himself Dave and smirks in a way that makes your skin crawl. He wears Davids skin but has none of his warmth. The sunshine in his smile is replaced by an ice cold sharpness and you hate that shivers it sends down your spine. His eyes have lost most of the humour they used to have, and when he hugs you he lets go a little too soon. A little too fractured, a little too cold. You hold on; assessing, caring, and wondering. Go to ask but he shakes his head; the look in his eyes silencing your questions before the words can form on your lips. The worry in your heart worsens.

When he walks you home you try again but he anticipates it. Like the predator he is now, he sees your strike coming, and retaliates in the one way he knows will force your silence. He kisses you. Hot and deep. Steals the air from your lungs and the words from your brain. Renders you shocked. When you open your eyes it's your David staring back again and your relieved smile has him pushing into you again. He kisses you until you're breathless. Again, and again, and again, until all your worries are dripping unvoiced at your feet and all your questions have been sucked into the air in his lungs.

You don't fall into each other as much as you attack. The culmination of years of circling each other and it all comes down to this. Mouths open, teeth clashing like you're trying to make your way into each others souls. His hands grab you so desperately, so fervently, that you wonder how he hasn't moulded you into his own chest yet. Your nails scratching at him like you're trying to carve a home in his bones. You’re trying to tear pieces of each other apart. Him, so he may take you with him and you, so you never have to watch him leave again. You devour every inch of him so reverently that the taste of him may remain embedded in your tongue forever. And he carves his way into you, soothing an emptiness that only ever craved him. Pounding in like he's trying to break you open and consume the light within. You cling to each other in the aftermath, breathless, sated and smiling, and you remember placing a kiss on his heart right before you drift off in his embrace.

You should've known, in retrospect, that that was as good as it was ever going to get.

He leaves you in an empty bed. Runs away before the dawn breaks like the consequences of what you both did are too ugly to be faced in the light of day. You turn the apartment upside down looking for one note, one glimpse, one hint of him that's not mottled on your skin and going to be torn away by the cruel hands of time.

You take the dismissal for what it is when you don't find one.

****

He comes back broken. Purple shadows under his eyes, a split lip and a wince that breaks you when you go to hug him. The storm breaks and you lunge. Too strung out to keep going like this any longer and too frazzled by thoughts of "what if it was worse" to think about the consequences of breaking your silence.

Your fists pound against the rock hard of his chest. The place that used to be your solace, your comfort, your home. Where you'd set your head too many times to count and where all your dreams ever went to rest. And they've turned it to stone, moulded him into a machine, changed him into something he's not.

"You're not a fucking hero David. You're not. And I'm asking you to stop trying to be one. I'm asking you to stop this self sacrificial bullshit and come back. Come home. You don't need to be a hero. You just need to be alive. I need you alive dammit! Why can't you see how much I need you?"

Your voice falters and cracks. It's out there now, the pieces of your heart; ugly, tattered and split open in front of him. Waiting for his judgement, for his grace. His face twists into a grimace, and you turn your head before he can see the tears fall. You don't need his apologies. His empty words and false promises of how nothing will ever happen to him, because it will, you know it will. So you hold up a hand before he can begin.

"It's okay. I get it. This is your life now, right? So will you forgive me then, if I can't stand around watching you try to kill yourself and wait for the day you inevitably succeed?"

Something in his eyes breaks at your words, and something in your heart does when he gathers you in his arms. The kiss on your temple feels like a goodbye. To your one solace, your one crutch and the only friend you ever had. And you know this goodbye will haunt you forever.

That's the one time you turn your back on David York.

****

He comes back with an extra sparkle in his eyes. Pleads and begs his way into your good graces and you indulge him because that's what you do for David. His smile has never been brighter. He may call you sunshine but he has always been your shining light, your beacon, the lighthouse you turn to.

But then he turns away. And in a split second, your world tilts on it's axis.

Carol.

Her name is Carol. Perfectly normal. Perfectly sweet. Perfectly perfect. He's got his hand in her hand and you don't understand. You can't. You refuse. Except.... David. He looks so happy. So content. Looks at her with all the devotion you've only ever given him, and all the love you wish he could've given you.

"What do think sunshine? I think she may be the one."

You smile. Because that's what you always do for David. You smile. It's an ugly thing. Fractured. Broken. He notices because of course he does. You've never been able to hide from him, ingrained as he is into your very soul. His smile falters and his eyes fill with sorrow and regret. Apologies for all he could never be and all the regret he has about it.

"You did good York. You'll be great together."

He flinches. He has only ever been David to you. He knows he has broken something irreparable. Opens his mouth to fix it. To swallow something back, say something else instead. Change the words, the letters, the combinations of decisions that led you both to this very moment. Something to keep you whole but the parts he shattered, however unwittingly, are already crumbling to dust in front of him. He closes his mouth. Swallows whatever lingered at the back of his throat. You smile at each other as you walk away. Him with her hand in his. You with the cloud of pain that comes from finally accepting the bitter truth for what it is.

He's not yours. Not anymore. Never will be again.

You never call him David again.

***

You miss him. Of course you do. Running from him was like running from a part of yourself; impossible, regretful and pointless. You were intwined into each other too thoroughly for there to ever be a clean cut through. You couldn't really walk away from him completely no matter what the distance on a map points out.

You know he'll call when he comes back again. He does. Shows up at the threshold of your sanity and the hardest thing you've ever done is ignore his voice when it calls to you. Voicemail, after voicemail, after voicemail. You listen to every single one but you can't call him back. His voice is your kryptonite. You'd walk back the distance if only you could but some tattered remnants of your self esteem hold you back. The last one comes with a letter in the mail. The glossy embellished card reminds you of the reason you walked away. The reason you could never go back. He pleads over static and tinny phone lines:

"Come on sunshine. I need you there. I'm sorry. I'm so s-. Please. I- "

Silence for a few minutes before the line cuts off. Typical of you both. To never say what you want and yet be assured the other knows exactly what you mean. He probably knows too. That you can't bear to see someone else's name next to his. The thought makes you nauseous; angry in a way that scares you, an evil coiling restless being inside of you, threatening to do as he asks. Go over there and scream in his face. The audactiy of this man to say he needs you when all you ever wanted was for him to pick you. Over the chip on his shoulder, the gun in his hand, the name on that card. Choose you. Love you. But you can't do any of that. You can't stand by his side and smile as he walks away with another either.

His only mercy is that he doesn't show up at your doorstep when you both know he could and you wouldn't be able to close the door in his face. Not him. Never him.

You throw the card away without opening it.

He forgives you.

But he never calls again.

***

Months turn to years and David York turns from a stabbing ache into a memory and then a ghost. He haunts you initially, at every turn, but slowly, over the years, the voice in your head softens down. He vanishes into the fog that lingers at the back of your mind and you stop looking over your shoulder for him to come back. You left him so suddenly, so abruptly, that you'd torn off pieces of yourself too. But time heals those wounds and you gradually learn to carry on as half of your bleeding heart slowly scabs and scars over.

You carve out a content little place for yourself, in a tiny corner of the world as you finally learn to love the reflection in your mirror. There's grey in your hair now. Wrinkles in your skin and hands hardened over from a life lived serving others. Saving who you can, when you can. A melody on your lips as you collect the parcels from your mailbox. Cocoa and bitter coffee long since mask the taste of his name on your breath.

There's a knock at your door and you flit to open it. Your smile, a pale imitation of what it used to be, plastered on, as you brace yourself to greet a well meaning neighbour or two. It falls quicker than lightning at the sight that greets you instead.

A man wavers at your doorstep. Unfamiliar in his familiarity. The ghost of a memory of a love never forgotten. Dripping crimson over the smiley face on your welcome mat. A haphazard bandage concealing half his face. One hand clearly broken. Arm bent at an angle too sharp to be natural. Angry streaks of purple and blue dancing around all visible patches of skin and he's trying to be nonchalant about the way he's favouring his right leg but failing miserably. Wheezing a breath that you know speaks of atleast one, if not several, broken ribs. And yet, despite all the damage and destruction and sheer agonizing pain he's no doubt in, the man smiles. Full and bright and warm.

"Hey sunshine."

And you reply.

A gasp. A plea. A promise.

David.

****

[the-phantoms-kiss]

Pillow talk

Leon S Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Angst - Fluff - Smut - 5k

It was a wonderful night, the breeze was cool as it entered through the window, the moonlight shone happily into the room, and most importantly; I was wrapped up in the arms of the man I loved.

This should’ve been the perfect end sequence in a romance movie after the two protagonists have sex, or “make love”, however in my case, it did little to quell the questions that were raging inside my mind.

“Leon…” I whisper softly, propping myself up on my forearms. “What is it?” His voice was deep and tired. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to ask, perhaps I should wait until he isn’t half asleep. He opens his eyes after a while, noticing my lack of a response, and pulls me closer to him with the arm around my waist. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” He sits up, waiting for anything. “I- nothing… it’s okay. I’m sorry for waking you, go back to sleep.” I kiss him on the forehead and let him lie back down properly, resuming his peaceful slumber.

Before I know it the clock says it’s 2:41 and I’m in the same position I was all those hours ago. The same thought has been repeated over and over again. It’s stupid. I know the answer, yet I can’t bring myself to accept it. I should, otherwise I’ll just be wasting time. I get up as carefully as I can, trying not to wake Leon up, which is easier said than done, and I carefully make my way to a small office room in the apartment.

At his old typewriter, I begin to write a letter, it goes as follows;

Dear Leon,

I apologize for not giving you a proper goodbye, but I couldn't bear to look you in the eyes knowing I'd have to leave. It may not matter to you why it is that I'm leaving, hell I don't doubt you won't notice my absence until much later on, yet I still feel as if I owe you an explanation even if it’s a shitty one.

We've been close since that night in Raccoon City, we stuck through thick and thin on various missions afterward and I've seen you grow and change from the young, sweet, and artless rookie that you were. Don't worry, I've had my own changes, and it wasn't until recently that I discovered just how much I changed from the person I was to the person I am today, I've also noted the change from the person I am today to the person I wanted to be back then. I'm leaving in pursuit of becoming that woman I always wanted to be, that woman that I am deep down. A hopeless romantic who wants nothing more than to start a family in a small town with a meaningless job. This rotten city, and whichever other city you get assigned to has no future for me, at least not one that is negotiable. I will always remember you and hold you dear to my heart, but I’m just not sure I can be here any longer without losing myself. I’ve already lost so many, I can’t lose myself. Please don’t be sad, I’m sure you’ll meet others far funnier than I, others who you’ll be able to bear your whole soul to. Please don't track me.

Maybe someday our paths will cross, till then;

Yours truly,

💋

Leaving my lipstick was my signature, the easiest way for him to recognize me. I neatly folded it, put it inside an empty envelope, and set it on his nightstand along with a cup of coffee, just how he liked it. I drove back home and quickly packed up my belongings, stuffing them into the trunk of my car.

I drove up north, only stopping for coffee and gas every once in a while, never settling in a motel for the night, instead, I opted to sleep in the backseat of my car, dreaming of the day I’d finally be free of these plagues. Faking my death was the easiest part of it all, after all, working for the government means anything is accessible and anything is possible if you talk to the right people.

I wonder if he even saw the letter, he probably thought it was some lame excuse to leave without making him breakfast, a habit we had gotten used to over the years of casual sex and crashing over at each other’s place when we were too drunk to drive home. Maybe it was exactly what he was hoping for, a break from me. I guess only time will tell.

Leon’s POV

The smell of coffee lingers in the air, the bed is colder than usual, and she isn’t singing in the kitchen like she usually is when she spends the night, she didn’t even wake me up at 6. Did I somehow dream last night? I was pretty drunk… but that’s not right, the coffee on the nightstand is-. I sit up and grab the mug, it’s cold like it’s just been there for hours, but it’s the same as when she always makes it. This must be some kind of game, ah, and here’s a letter most likely explaining the rules, a bit unusual that she didn’t tell me earlier, usually when she plays these games she at least gives me a heads up. Jesus, why’d I have to be into a detective?

Let’s see, “ ’Dear Leon’, blah blah blah blah, jeez she really got into character this time, let’s just skip to the good part, ‘don’t track me’ What am I supposed to do then? Hope I run into her? Maybe the clues are hidden in the text.” As I reread the entire letter I quickly realize, that this isn’t another one of her games, this is a goodbye. But… no. She must be kidding right? Some sick prank she thought would be funny? She knows how many people have left me… she knows that… she’s… I don’t have anyone… why would she leave if she knew that? “FUCK” I grab the mug and toss it at the wall in a fit of rage, shattering to pieces.

 *RING RING RING* Great who is it now?! Claire Redfield? “My condolences Leon, she was a great teammate and an even better friend.” “What condolences? Do you know how long she was planning this?!” “I don’t know! I would’ve helped her if I had known… she didn’t deserve to go like that.” “Helped her?! Deserve to go out like that?! So what? You’re just going to help her play the victim now?” “Jesus, Leon! Have some respect for the dead, despite whatever religion you may believe in we can both agree that we shouldn’t blame her for killing herself, the blame should be on us who didn’t even notice something was up.” “Killed herself? What do you mean…?” “Stop acting dumb! It’s all over the news! Those damn bastards couldn’t let her rest even after her death.”

That can’t be right… she would have told me if she was even feeling remotely suicidal… she- THE LETTER! SHE TOLD ME! HOURS OR EVEN SECONDS BEFORE DOING IT! WHY WOULD SHE DO SOMETHING SO DRASTIC! I WAS RIGHT NEXT TO HER! I COULD’VE SAVED HER AND EVEN AT THAT, I FAILED! MERE INCHES AWAY AND STILL I- I failed her- if I had gotten up instead of pretending to sleep if I had opened my eyes when she left the coffee on the nightstand… I could’ve prevented all of this…

2 Years later (2005) 7 years after the incident

MAIN POV

The night was quiet, even inside the bar, the bar was quieter than usual as it was late and most patrons would have work the next day. I loved these kinds of nights, the kind where the sound of people talking and low jazz music were nothing but ambiance noise compared to the rain that was pounding on the windows. The doorbell jingled, and a man came in. I must be dreaming, he looks an awful lot like Leon, sure the blonde hair is throwing me off but the resemblance is there, it can’t be, what’s an old town like this got to do with his operations? Maybe I’m drunk, I doubt it since this is my second glass of wine, but stranger things have happened. As I look back away and out the window a heavy set of footsteps walk up to my table. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” Holy shit. It’s him. Maybe he won’t notice if I keep quiet and look out the window, maybe the changed hair color will throw him off? Right like his threw me right off track. I shake my head side to side, careful to not show my face. “Thanks.” He pulls out the chair, faces it towards the front of the bar, with his back to the window and sits on it. Umm hello? Can you leave? “It’s a nice night ain’t it.” I guess you aren’t going to leave. I just nod. “Cut the shit, I know it’s you.” He slams his beer on the table and turns his body towards me. I feel the hairs on my body stand at the sudden loudness of his voice. The place goes quiet for a second, and I remain quiet as well. “Fine then, don’t speak to me, I’ll talk whether you talk or not.” I stand up and quickly walk outside, speaking as I do. “I don’t want to talk Leon.” He reaches up to me just as fast, and grabs my wrist before I can get into my car, the rain slowly drenching us both.

 “No! You are not walking away from me. Not again. You may have said everything you wanted to that night but just remember that I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. You left me with what may have been a reason to move states, but to me it was a letter with a reason to end your life, and that wasn’t fair. You knew that I would find out about your death so why make it seem like a suicide note knowing damn well that you had no intention to do so. You left me when you knew! YOU KNEW THAT I HAD NO ONE ELSE. DO YOU KNOW JUST HOW MUCH IT KILLED ME THINKING IT WAS MY FAULT YOU HAD ENDED IT? I CRIED FOR MONTHS NONSTOP AND WHEN I WOULDN’T BE CRYING I WOULD BE DRINKING, BLAMING MYSELF FOR NOT HAVE ASKED YOU WHAT WAS WRONG THAT NIGHT WHEN THERE WAS OBVIOUSLY SOMETHING WRONG. IT KILLED ME. YOU KILLED ME. YOU HURT ME MORE THAN ANY OF THOSE STUPID MISSIONS EVER DID. AND FOR WHAT? WHAT WAS THE REASON? TO END UP WORKING AT SOME MORGUE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE? YOU WALKED OUT ON ME. WHY? WHY?! YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE TO COME BACK JUST PLEASE TELL ME WHY!

“BECAUSE I LOVED YOU LEON! I STILL DO! AND I KNEW YOU WEREN’T READY TO SETTLE SO I LEFT. I LEFT THAT NIGHT BECAUSE I LOVED YOU AND I KNEW YOU DIDN’T LOVE ME. IT HURT TOO MUCH NEVER BEING ABLE TO TELL YOU OR SHOW YOU JUST HOW MUCH I DID. AND NO, I DIDN’T GET TO TELL YOU EVERYTHING I WANTED TO SAY IN THAT LETTER BECAUSE I WAS SCARED OF WHAT YOU WOULD DO IF YOU KNEW I LOVED YOU. I AM SORRY I HURT YOU SO MUCH. I JUST COULDN’T LIVE THAT WAY AND I NEEDED TO ESCAPE. I WAS SO BLINDED BY MY OWN PAIN I DIDN’T EVEN REALIZE WHAT I DID UNTIL I WAS SEVERAL TOWNS OVER AND I KNEW IT WAS TOO LATE BY THEN. I LOST IT. I LOST IT LEON. I LOST IT ALL. I- I WAS GOING MAD. IT WAS DRIVING ME MAD THE WAY YOU INTERACTED WITH ADA! YOU WERE HEAD OVER HEELS FOR HER AND I WAS SIMPLY THE SECOND CHOICE! EVEN WHEN WE MET YOU WERE HUNG UP ON SOMEONE! I NEVER HAD A CHANCE.”

“YOU’RE WRONG! I NEVER LIKED ADA! ALL SHE HAS DONE IS LIE AND BETRAY MY TRUST!  IT’S BEEN YOU SINCE THAT NIGHT WE MET! AND YOU’RE RIGHT I WASN’T READY TO HAVE A FAMILY, BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I NEVER WANTED TO START ONE! ESPECIALLY WITH YOU! GOD I WOULD KILL TO HAVE THE CHANCE TO CALL YOU MINE IN ANY FORM!” His facial expression suddenly changes from anger to sadness, and one can practically see the gears in his brain as he thinks of what to say next. He steps closer his eyes now looking down at his own shoes, and when he speaks it’s much quieter than the previous shouting he was doing, his voice is slightly deeper and he talks slower, as if he’s realizing the meaning of his own words as he says them.

“You don’t know how many nights I spent dreaming about the day I could finally quit my job and just ask you to be mine already. So many nights wishing that all of these viruses would just go away so I could finally take you out to dinner and treat you the way you always deserved. I just wish you would have let me tell you that instead of making choice for me. I love you. I love you so fucking much it hurts. Surely you must know that… right?” I pull him in by his jacket, and I kiss him. I kiss him like there’s no tomorrow and he kisses back just as passionately, his arms wrapped rightly around my waist pulling me and closely as possible and it still wasn’t enough. For what feels like an eternity we stand there, drenched and yet it doesn’t bother us, and it isn’t until our lungs beg for air that we finally pull apart. He picks me up bridal style and runs to the passenger side of his car putting me inside, takes off his wool jacket and lays it on me gently before running back to the driver seat and driving to my house. “How- that’s a stupid question it'd be stranger if you didn’t know my address.” He chuckles, but that doesn’t answer my second question, “If you have something to say then say it, I don’t want you keeping any questions from me ever again.” He looks at me, frowning. “How many times did you have to look at my address to memorize the path from the bar to it?” “Too many, honey.” That’s all I wanted, a sweet nickname that I know only I’ll hear. While he drives he puts his hand on my thigh, and it feels so unbelievable right.

When we arrive he runs back over to my door to open it and extends his hand for me to hold, I run to the door and unlock it running inside for shelter as the rain falls in bigger drops, “I’m going to go shower really quickly, make yourself at home.” “Can I join you?” his hand still on mine “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, I’ll be out in a second I promise.” I kiss his forehead, and run to the restroom to shower before I catch a cold. When I get out of the shower I shiver, only wearing a towel, he’s in my room, standing by the fireplace that is now ablaze while he looks at the pictures and trinkets I have on it. “I left some hot water for you, better run and shower before I go back in.” He doesn’t answer, he just motions for me to come closer and when I do he holds my waist with one hand, the other holds out a framed picture of the both us selfie, it was taken on my 21st birthday, we were in a booth in a bar, jeez why are we always at bars? “I have this exact same picture framed on my nightstand. We’ll make it. I promise.” He kisses my forehead, his hair still damp and cold from the rain, after a few seconds he pulls away and goes to shower. Should I bring some wine? What about lingerie? Too much? Yeah, too much. I just want to make it up to him. Candles! Music! Is Jeff buckley too much heartbreak? Chris Isaak? Nine Inch Nails? Too kinky for our first romantic time. Alannah Myles? Yes. Black velvet comes on first too?! Perfect.

As if on cue Leon comes out of the bathroom with a towel covering his lower half, I just can’t help it and I run into his arms pulling him in to a kiss once again, he must’ve been feeling the same way because his hands immediately land on my hips and he pulls me flush against his chest, my hands on his hair. He picks me up bridal style and carefully throws me onto the bed, climbing on top of me, his hands roaming any bare skin I have, his kisses growing sloppy and eventually moving down my neck occasionally nipping and leaving his mark, kissing back up my jaw and nibbling right below my ear, the sound of his heavy breathing makes me rub my thighs and he instantly notices, pulling them apart and throwing the towels which hung loosely around us onto the floor. It was like he was analyzing which part he should go after first. His kisses go between the valley of my breasts, and he carefully pinches both nipples at the same time, his tongue leaving a trail as it goes lower and lower, “Leon, please,” My voice barely above a whisper, “I wanna be yours… I’m going to make you mine.” His lips right above my clit the vibration still going through. And he kisses it, slowly at first, his fingers never leaving my nipples, then he speeds up, instead of kissing it he’s just flicking it with his tongue, running circles on it, sucking, and blowing on it afterwards. My moans grow louder, it’s too much, his touch is too much, and it’s about to be more. “So many nights I dreamt about this.” And without a warning one of his fingers goes into me, as he curls and moves it in and out, adding a second one and doing scissor motions, his lips now repeating the same actions from before but now on your nipples constantly switching between them. “Leon it’s too much- I-“ “Cum on my fingers.” I don’t need to be told twice and he just speeds up his ministrations as my legs shake.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good tonight baby, you’re never going to be the same.” I moan and twist his hair between my fingers. After I’m done he pulls out his fingers and licks them clean, “God how I’ve missed your taste.” And before I know it he’s between my thighs again like a starved man, curling his tongue inside and his hands massage my hips keeping them from bucking, his nose rubbing against my clit every once a while and his tongue runs over my walls like he can’t get enough, “Leon don’t stop please- you- you- feel so-“ My legs shaking again, thighs crushing his head and he groans, the vibrations going through my entire body. And as I come down from my high he’s licking every last drop, “So pretty when you cum” without warning he’s shoving his dick in me, one of his hands holding my legs on his shoulders and the other holding my hips, angling them up getting in even deeper, setting a sharp and quick pace. I pull him in with my legs, his hands now pressing my thighs to my chest and his lips meet mine for a messy kiss, both moaning into each other’s mouth the new angle has both of us seeing stars and I involuntary clench around him every once in a while making his knees buck, “Fuck, keep doing that and I won’t last.” “I don’t want you to last.” I scratch my nails on his back and his scalp, and he moans in my ear. “You sound so pretty when you moan.” And he blushes hiding his face in my neck, groaning and moaning. “I- I’m close- Leon-“ “Cum for me.” And I snap, my walls gripping him tighter than he could imagine, and he cums as well, his knees bucking and his body shivers on mine. His hands bruising my hips but I couldn’t care any less. After a few more seconds of him pistoning in and out he finally falters, and he lies on top of me for a while, now it’s just our heavy breathing and the long-forgotten CD still playing in the background. As he pulls out he lays his head on my chest and covers us both, I softly run my fingers along his hair, his own fingers drawing shapes on my skin. “I love you.” We both spoke simultaneously, “Jinx” “That’s not fair.” He jokingly frowns, “Nuh uh, can’t speak, I said jinx.” After some silence I speak up again. “Do you remember when we first met?” He just remains silent, “I know you’re awake.” “You said I couldn’t speak.” “Fine.” “Leon,” Saying his name slowly, a kiss on his forehead, “Leon,” repeating it even slower, a kiss on his nose, “Leon.” Barely above a whisper, a kiss on his lips, “I think about that night every day.” He replies. “Do you remember?” “Crystal clear.” The memories flooding back to me.

We met in a bar a day before the incident, a town outside of Raccoon City, I walked in “Can I get whiskey on rocks?” I ordered, and a voice came from next to me “Are you even old enough to drink?” The man was unbelievably good looking, but obviously out of it. “Excuse me? I fail to see how that’s any of your business.” “I’m a cop. It is my business.” He flashes his badge, “A drunk one. You’re no better than I am.” He chuckles “You didn’t answer my initial question.” “I did you just didn’t like my response.” “I could take you to jail right now.” “In that condition? You’d probably crash before we even got in the city.” “I can drive just fine.” “You sure? Because by the look of your dilated pupils, you’re either drunk or in love.” “Or?” he smirks, “As if.” The bartender is way too tired to pay attention to either and simply passes you the drink, you hand him cash, “You’re not even going to ID her? And they say we’re the corrupted ones.” “Listen here, if you’re just going to come in and talk shit with our customers then feel free to make your way out.” The bartender responds, of course, he’d have your back, you’ve been a regular for months. “Fine. I guess I will.” He stands up immediately feeling dizzy as he slightly stumbles out of the bar, I follow behind him I can’t afford such a handsome guy getting himself killed on the road. “Let me drive. You’ve obviously had too many and I’m sober.” “After that whiskey?” “Believe it or not some of us actually have a tolerance to alcohol. I didn’t finish it anyway.” He sighs outside his car, taking a moment to think, he puts his hand on his head and hands me the keys walking over to the passenger side.

“Where to?” “Any hotel nearby.” “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off at your house?” “Don’t have one.” It’s dark out and the road is empty other than the occasional gas station, “So… what brings you out here anyhow?” “To the bar or to the city?” “Both” “Mainly work, I’m starting my first day as a cop tomorrow in Raccoon City.” “Wow, I could’ve been your first arrest, lucky you.” “So you admit you’re underage” “I’m 20 alright lay off it, say you don’t look old enough to drink either.” “That’s because I’m 21.” “Aha! You’re no better than I am.” “At least I waited.” “First of all I call bullshit, and second of all getting wasted isn’t exactly waiting. You drank tonight more than I’ve drank in these past months. What about the bar? A celebration for your new job?” “My girlfriend broke up with me yesterday, needed a drink to forget. What about you? Do you go there often?” “I’m sorry to hear about your ex. Well, college is hard and family doesn’t make it easier so we all cope in some way or another.” “Ah family, I can relate to that.” “They didn’t want you to be a cop?” “They’re dead now but I’m sure they wouldn’t be proud. They were wrapped up in crime more often than not, a cop helped me out that night though, and helped me get into an orphanage.” “That’s sweet” he smiles, god he’s cute. “What are you studying in college?” “Mortuary science.” “Isn’t that just lovely.” I laugh and he looks at me with these huge puppy eyes. “Don’t think I’ve seen you smile this whole time, you’re pretty cute when you smile.” “Only when I smile? Good golly.” He laughs again, “Didn’t even deny it.” I whisper under my breath as I shake my head, “You’re always cute, you’re just too sassy for me to see it.” I just blush and keep quiet for the rest of the ride, turning on the radio to play some jazz quietly in the background as the rain starts pattering down the windshield. At one point he simply passes out, man is he adorable when he sleeps, his eyelashes are so thick, and his faint freckles are scattered around his cheeks and neck, man his ex must’ve been blind and deaf, don’t know how she could just give up on this cutie. As I see a nearby motel I notice the gas tank is close to empty and I park at the motel. “Excuse me how close is the nearest gas station?” “About 4 miles up north, but I wouldn’t recommend walking out there this late, with the heavy rain and the recent murders in the city it is too dangerous to be out.” “I’ll book two rooms then,” As I finish up paying I walk back out to the car to get the stranger, recent murders huh? What if he’s the killer? Nah he’s too sweet for that. He could be acting… I’m sure it’s fine. “Are you awake? I got you a room, seems we’ll have to be neighbors for the night since this car isn’t going anywhere.” No answer. Guess I’ll have to carry him, man he feels like a steel wall, god, I’m going to be sore tomorrow. After carrying him to his room and push him onto his bed his hand grabs onto mine, and he pull me onto the bed with him wrapping his arms around me, whispering a name, still very much asleep. After a while I manage to get his arm off of me and to my room as quietly as possible knocking out on my bed.

In the morning I wake up to the sound of the sound of knocking on the door, as I peek out I see the lady from last night, her husband is offering to drive me to the gas station and I quickly agree and get in his truck. The drive to was quiet filled with occasional small talk, on the ride back however, he stared asking more personal questions, putting his hand on my shoulder every once in a while. When he parked he kept the doors locked looking over at me as if he’d seen his first meal, “If you’d like, I can help you fill up” his tone lower and he leaned towards me, “No thank you, I’m running a bit late could you-“ “Listen princess, my wife is probably taking a nap right now and I think it’d be in both of our interest if we had a little fun.” I quickly move my hand and unlock the doors, but he grabs my wrist tightly before I can open it. “Let me go! My friend is a cop and he will arrest you!” He chuckles and my god it is the most disgusting sound I’ve ever heard. Oh yeah? Where’s this friend of yours at?” “Right here.” A familiar voice responds from behind the man as his door swings open and he gets pulled out of his seat, and before the man could even fully raise his fist he gets punched in the nose, falling back unconscious. Seriously badass. He quickly runs around to my side and opens the door, holding his hand out for me to take and I gladly do so. “Thank you.” I pull him into a hug and he reciprocates the action, after pulling away he holds his hand out “I’m Leon Kennedy, sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier.” I introduce myself and shake his hand. After filling up the tank we drove back to the bar, the same place I’d left my car the night before.

We stop at a diner to eat lunch, his treat of course since he turned out to be a gentleman, lending me his jacket when it got cold outside and walking me to my car as we said our goodbyes, both knowing we didn’t want to go our separate ways. I give him my phone number and he does the same, and with that I’m in my car alone, and he’s in his equally alone. It wasn’t until I got half way back home that I realized he’d forgotten his jacket, and I would’ve kept it if it didn’t contain his badge along with other belongings. Thankfully I knew he’d most likely be heading to the police station over at Raccoon City so that’s where I’d be going for the rest of the day, I didn’t have anything planned anyways so it’d be a fun roadtrip. By the time I was only half an hour out of the city it was already dark and I needed fuel stopping at a gas station which coincidentally had Leon’s car parked right outside it. I got out ready to surprise him when out of no where a bloodied woman came to my window banging her head against it, not knowing whether to help her or seek Leon inside the dark gas station I climb over the passenger seat and run towards the building turning back to see a swarm of them hurling towards me. As I turn an isle I walk into Leons back, he quickly turns pointing the gun right at my forehead, “DON’T SHOOT! IT’S ME!” He doesn’t even respond he just grabs my hand and leads me out to the nearby police cruiser which was luckily on. I get into the passenger seat and he gets into the drivers, quickly stepping on the gas pedal. After we were seemingly in the clear he speaks up “What were you doing there?” Not angry but obviously shaken by the experience, “You forgot your jacket, I was going to drive to RPD and leave it there but I spotted your car at the gas station.” He looks down at me, noticing the jacket still on me, “Oh, thank you.” I take it off and hold onto it for the rest of the ride, we were both quiet, trying to process what we’d just seen. Eventually stopping outside of another diner within the city. From then on it’s all just history. 

3 Years later (2008)

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer I do."

“I do.”

"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live? If so, answer I do."

“I do”

“You may now kiss the bride” 

And with a searing kiss, we begin a new chapter in our lives.

AN: I pulled an all-nighter so please like and reblog 👏🏻😭

[superstar027]

~~~~~RUN~~~~~~~

"If his homie won't treat you right, he will"

Character: Geto Suguru

TW: Toxic Relationship, Cheating/Infidelity, Smoking

NOTE: This fanfic is inspired by @shirat0rizawa on TikTok. Please go check out their work because it's really amazing!! Also, this will most likely have 3 parts to it so I hope you all stay for the ride!

You and Sukuna have been together for a while now. Not that you would want that to be the case. You both met in a car meet. He was sitting on top of his beautiful 2013 Lykan Hypersport in red when your eyes met. If you could go back, you would've stabbed those eyes with a knife the moment they even slightly grazed your figure. But alas, here you are in the very same car meet watching your boyfriend fuck his latest side chick in the very same car he took you on dates in. This has been your life for the past few months. "You guys done yet?" You rolled your eyes at the two stuck to each other's mouths, moaning so loudly you swear they couldn't even hear you. Sukuna had invited you to go on a date but you were only met with the sight of him completely buried into another woman. "Just a sec, sweet thing." He zips up his pants and looks over to your annoyed face and body in a little black dress. “Sorry you saw that sweetheart; I swear I’ll be more careful next time.” He says slowly leaning in for a kiss that you so rudely dodged. He looks at you with furrowed eyebrows and gritted teeth as he pulls on your hair and forces your lips to collide.

You pull away and gagged on the floor. He was always too rough, never had a romantic moment with him. “Woah, chill with ya girl man, if she ever leaves you I’m first in line.” A man with long black hair in a neat bun said, teasing Sukuna. “I’d like to see her try to leave me.” Sukuna chuckled with a sinister undertone. This wasn’t new. You’ve tried to leave before. Tried. As soon as Sukuna found out you were with a new man, he disappeared; and if you ever tried again… you’d be next. That long-haired man is Geto, one of Sukuna’s fri- no, frenemies. Sukuna’s always pissed off at him for his longing glances toward you and you’re convinced Geto’s fucking around for the hell of it. The girl in Sukuna’s car finally got out. She looks towards you with a sly smirk on her face before she goes to plant a kiss on Sukuna’s neck. She whispered something in his ear causing a lustful smile to appear on his face. Sukuna then gave her a slap on the ass causing her to jump as she walks away. You look at Sukuna with furrowed eyebrows and a frown reeking of disgust. This wasn’t anything new, but the fact that he did this in front of his friends enraged you. You can’t fight back, however. He was much bigger, much stronger. The only thing you were able to do was to stomp away. “Aw, come on Y/N! don’t be like this!” He shouted. He wasn’t going to even chase after you! The best he could do was scream and then he’ll be carrying on with his life without even thinking about you.

You leaned against a dark corner opening up a pack of cigarettes and lighting it up with your lighter. Yet, another hobby Sukuna taught you. It helped you relax, and gather your thoughts. You suddenly turn your head to the sound of footsteps coming toward you. It was Geto. The moon was perfectly shining on his black hair perfectly illuminating his muscular figure; He wore a dark blue BMW racing jacket with black cargo pants. “Y’know I could do horrible things to you right now.”  He said with a slight smirk on his face. “Nothing worse than what my boyfriend has done to me.” You chuckled as you ran your hands through your hair.  He stood closer to you, hoping his presence would give you some comfort. “Why do you even stay with that asshole? You have me waiting for you!” You laughed at his joke, slightly hitting him on his arm “Ow! What the fuck was that for?!” You both chuckled. You looked at each other’s eyes with longing and lust behind them. In the heat of the moment, the both of you crashed your lips on each other engaging in a hot make-out session. “You shouldn’t do this. This is cheating! This makes you no better than that ass Sukuna! Ah! Who cares?! Just enjoy the moment, deal with the aftermath later…” Millions of thoughts ran through your head but all you could currently think about is the tongue exploring your mouth and the hair you’re grabbing to make it go deeper. You didn’t want it to end. You wanted to enjoy the moment further, deeper. But you’re both human after all. As you two separate for air, your conscience takes over you and you immediately realize your mistake.  You fix your dress and you run off; glancing back at Suguru with longing in both of your eyes. Suguru followed closely behind you; watching as you returned in the arms of an asshole that mistreats you and takes your love for granted. He knows he could do better.

It's 8 pm, and you’re preparing a beautiful pasta dinner you and hopefully Sukuna. If he even comes home. Sukuna hasn’t texted or called you back since that little incident from last week and you were bored out of your mind. Ding! You go over to check out the notification. It was a text message from Geto.

“You coming to the race later?”

“Race? What Race?”

“Oh, Sukuna hasn’t told you? There’s a race later by Shibuya, the usual spot y’know?”

“Oh.”

“Come with me.”

“Sukuna will be pissed.”

“So?”

“He’s gonna race you”

“I can take him”

As you are about to text him a reply, the door behind you opens, and in goes Sukuna. He hugs you from behind by your waist and plants small kisses on your neck. The smell of another woman's perfume was contaminating the room and it disgusted you. You break from his hug as you look towards him. “Aren’t you going to tell me something?” You say with arms crossed. He looks around the room and towards you before he replies, “No?”. “So, you weren’t planning to invite me to the race at Shibuya?” His eyes widened “I’m taking Hinata-!“ “Fuck Hinata!” You screamed at him in anger. “I’m your girlfriend! I’m the one you should be taking to these races! Not some side bitch you found on the streets!” “For fucks sake Y/N! We’ve talked about this! You’re not used to going to races! Shibuya races at that! Do you know how violent it gets out there?! And Hinata’s different! She’s used to these things!” He yelled at your face. All of a sudden you feel small and helpless. There was no winning this. You sighed and walked to your room not even touching one bit of the food you prepared.

            You locked the doors and bawled on your bed. It wasn’t fair. You couldn’t fight. Unless…

You grab your phone and open your and Geto’s messages.

“I’ll be there.”

“That’s my girl”

Part 2 up now!!

Part 3 done!!

[mybworlds]

Deer eyes

Pairing: Joel Miller x F character

Summary: Eleanor Winters has to hide herself. Joel Miller is broken. They'll meet each other in Jackson. Will Eleanor put a completely broken man together and will Joel bring light into Eleanor's life?

Series Warning: angst, alcohol abuse, hints of domestic violence, dirty talk, violence, smut, and if I miss smt let me know.

Masterlist

Before to start... yeah, I'm back to write my very first fanfiction about Joel Miller after months, I'm gonna finish this one too, but its updates will be very slowly 'cause I've other few ideas about Joel Miller character, sorry not sorry. I won't write warnings for each chapter, but series warning only. Please be kind and remember English is not my first Language.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Have you ever felt so lonely That you could map it on your body And draw a big fat cross in the middle Where your cold eye is supposed to be

Eleanor opened her eyes again; she was still in the armchair. She did not even remember falling asleep. The last thing she remembered was that sweet sound that had lulled her, making her forget about everything. That morning she went to the diner again from the day before, there was no Mel there that morning, but a big girl with broad shoulders and wide hips and an extremely focused expression washing dishes. "We're still closed. Come back in an hour." "I don't have to consume or order anything." The woman looked up, her eyes seeming to want to pierce her "Then what d' you want?" she asked, changing her tone decisively. "I came yesterday morning and talked to Mel. I asked her if maybe there was a possibility of working here." "I'm not looking for staff." "But there's a sign outside…" "It's old. It goes back to before Mel came and now if you don't mind." "The sign looks new to me." the young woman noted, not being intimidated by the other's harsh tone "Are you sure you don't need help?" "Who the fuck sent you, huh?" she blurted, hurling a cup on the floor. Eleanor froze. "I asked you a fucking question!" she blurted out again, making the rounds behind the counter and reaching for the stranger with a menacing stride. "No one. There was a sign outside and I asked, no need to get so hot." "I don't need any help," she spat between her teeth. "I don't know what your problem is and I don't even care, I just know that you can't attack people like that just because you were asked a legitimate question!" she blurted out, ignoring the venomous gaze of the club owner for a moment. Eleanor looked at the woman for a moment longer and then walked away. She wanted to start over, but she didn't want to do it in a place where she could be attacked like that all the time. She needed peace of mind, not more violence. She wandered around the city aimlessly when she came across a craft store. She went in and there she looked at the many small knick-knacks carved in wood some in the shape of an owl, some in the shape of a rabbit, some in the shape of a fox, then small houses with a small thermometer, then small guitars and other instruments carved in wood, glass balls with a Santa Claus inside, a little house, a Christmas tree, more snowballs. She smiled as she picked up one of them with a small guitar inside. "Can I help you?" asked a voice that made her wince, however, and the object she held in her hands fell to the ground. "Oh Gosh, I'm so sorry." The man smiled at her, "Don't worry about that." "I'll pay you back." said Eleanor reaching into her backpack and pulling out her wallet "How much do I owe you?" "No, really. Don't worry about it. I'm sorry I scared you. I don't usually have this effect." he said. "I was just lost in my thoughts." she replied as she took a better look at the man who had slightly long dark hair, dark eyes, a mustache and a slight strand of beard, his expression quite reassuring. He nodded, "I'm Tommy," he said, extending his hand to her. "Eleanor." she replied, shaking his hand. He smiled at her "How do you do, you're not from here, right?" "No." she replied, squeezing his head, "I'm from Portland." "Ah, that's right, in fact I thought so from the accent. Well, welcome to Jackson." She smiled at him, "Thank you. That's the first sincere welcome I've heard." "Not everyone is hospitable, but others will make you feel at home." She smiled "I'm noticing that." "And, um, what do you do, Eleanor?" Should she have told the truth? No.

"Actually, I used to work as a bartender, but... then in short the place went out of business and so… by a series of unfortunate events I had to start over again, and again, and again. Eventually, I changed places completely, but even here things didn't start well." "Have you tried Abby Anderson's bar?" he asked her puzzled. "The one near the residential area?" he nodded "Yes, but she told me she's not looking for anyone." "Strange." he commented, frowning. "Or maybe it's me she doesn't like. I wouldn't know. In fact, she was quite abrupt in pointing it out to me." "That's typical Abby." he said, assuming a thoughtful expression "Oh, you should have known her fifteen years ago she was so sweet, smiling… then she lost one of her closest friends and changed. For the worse." he told her. Eleanor began to understand, "Losing those you love digs you up inside." "Oh, but her friend is not dead," Tommy clarified, "She's gone. She's cut ties with Jackson, and of course Abby lost one of her points of reference." the man then suddenly became pensive and taciturn, as if Abby's affair concerned him in some way. "I didn't mean to rabid you, I'm sorry," she said with a sigh, "Are you sure I don't owe you anything for that one?" he nodded, "Can I still buy something?" "Sure." Out of there, the young woman bought candies and chocolates, remembering that on October 31st children used to Trick-or-treating. She smiled. Back home, Eleanor placed the small wooden guitar purchased in Tommy's store on the nightstand. She watched it intently as if that guitar represented almost an anchor, a kind of source of tranquility. Evening came and, as she thought, the children ran up and down the streets shouting 'trick or treat,' she heard their little giggles, heard their footsteps up and down the driveways not far from her, someone knocked on her door as well, and she gave profuse gifts of candies and chocolates. Children at that age were wonderful. She was about to close the door when she heard again that sweet and somewhat forgetful sound coming from not too far away. She grabbed her keys and headed toward that melody. It was coming from a house down the street, there was a porch light on, the thing that struck the young woman immediately was that no children had gone there and the uniqueness of the house, the porch seemed to belong to a completely abandoned house, instead someone lived there. Eleanor approached as if enchanted and saw who was playing. He was a man about forty years old, he had dark hair, a slight strand of beard and mustache, a pronounced nose, and he was so focused on playing that he may not have realized that someone - she - was watching him. He looked sad. She watched as his fingers expertly caressed those strings, then he stopped and she realized that she was standing there staring at someone she didn't even know. It could have been anyone. "Remember the secrecy." And she at that moment completely forgot about that. The man looked up and met the girl's eyes. The man's eyes were two black pools, at least in that light, which disturbed Eleanor. "Well?" he blurted out, "What d' ya want? A curious one? Or did someone send you to insult me?" "I - I… um, actually…" "So?" he resumed in an annoyed tone. "I heard your music and got curious and approached you. I'm sorry to have bothered you. Good evening." she made to leave. "Good evening my ass!" he blurted out causing her to turn back to him "Sorry…" he added putting down his guitar beside him and getting up from the stool "Not many people approach me." he added again placing his hands on his hips. "How so?" asked Eleanor, making her gaze dart from one corner of the porch to the other. "Haven't you heard the stories about me?" "No." she replied, shaking her head. He smiled, it was a bitter smile. "How can you not know who I am? Many in the neighborhood call me the monster." Eleanor's blood froze.

Monster?

"You see, you already changed your expression. Go home and pretend you never saw me or talked to me." "Why? You don't look like a monster." she answered him and the man changed expression turning almost sad. Eleanor took a step forward as she entered the cone of light produced by the lamp affixed to the ceiling of the man's porch. The man looked at her strangely almost in disbelief, his eyes seemed to become less gloomy. "Can I stay here with you for a while?" Eleanor, what are you doing? Did he just tell you that he did something - because he did something, otherwise no one would call him a monster - and what are you doing, are you there with him? What if he is a murderer? A part of herself told her, but the other - the stronger one - told her that a monster - a real one - she had already met, had filled her head, her body, her heart with cuts, scratches and scars that would never heal, and the man in front of her was not dangerous. She did not know what he had done, but he certainly was not who he said he was.

She had the clearest eyes Joel had ever seen, and she had them in the whitish light that barely illuminated the porch, let alone in the sunlight. Looking at her more closely, Joel recognized the young woman coming out of Anderson's club and therefore asked her again, "Are you sure you don't know anything about me?" She nodded without looking away from his eyes, "Yet I saw you coming out of Anderson's club yesterday morning." She frowned, "I was just looking for a job." "Did you find it?" She shook her head, "No. She probably didn't like me," she replied. He smiled as he sat back down on the stool "That makes two of us, then. I don't know what you did to her, but whatever it is, Anderson won't forget it." "It was the first time I went in that place and so I didn't do anything to her," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Then I don't know…" The two were silent for a while then she turned her gaze to the guitar and barely smiled. Joel watched the dimples form on her cheeks when she smiled and strangely found himself smiling too. There was no real reason, but that detail was enough to make his lips curve upward. "I am Joel," he said. She raised her eyes and gaze to him, "Eleanor." "Nice name. Where are you from? Oregon?" "Yes." she replied "How did you…?" He smiled, "Your accent. It's unmistakable." "Really?" she asked, wrinkling her brow just slightly with an amused expression "You are the second one who notice my accent." "Frequent traveler?" he asked her intrigued by that statement. He saw her waver for a moment, then nodded "Yes, sometimes for fun, sometimes for work." He was the one who nodded this time "And this time for what reason?" "Need." she answered in a rush, then saw her widen her eyes and lower her head almost guiltily. "Is something wrong?" he asked, noticing that sudden change of mood. "N - no. I -" she said as she stood up "Sorry, maybe I shouldn't have - I just remembered that I forgot something at my place and… um, I have to go." she said as she descended the two small steps "Good evening." she added and then almost ran off. He frowned and then sighed sadly, what did he do to make her run away? He sighed sadly and then picked up his guitar and strummed absently. For a moment he had felt normal, then he had seen her run away too, and that hood that had been with him for years now reeled him back into a state of pure sadness and grayness.

That answer was going to continue with a need to escape from a violent man, if she did that her whole cover would be blown and then she might as well go by her real name, Margareth. When she reached her home again, she found Anderson waiting for her. "Hello, stranger." the woman greeted her. "Good evening." returned Eleanor's greeting. "Sorry for the way I treated you this morning, I was … pissed off about some problems of my own, you had nothing to do with it." she explained "Do you still need that job?" she asked, looking at her face. The woman's expression was hard, but her tone of voice less so, so she answered her, "Yes, I need it. I have to live." she sat down at some distance from her. Anderson looked biasedly at the house "How the fuck did you earn this house?" "Inheritance." she answered in a rush, not knowing what excuse to make up. "Funny, I thought it was for sale. I'll misremember." she replied as she stood up "Well, if you want I'll wait for you in the morning. I care about one thing, actually two things. Punctuality and for no reason in the world is Joel Miller and his lady friend Williams to enter my club, understood?" She nodded in puzzlement, "Who are-- Joel Miller and Williams?" "Oh, yeah, I fucking forgot that you're a stranger!" she exclaimed as she sat back down "That filthy pig Joel Miller is a violent drunkard who is good to keep away from, the other one is a bitch I don't want around at all." she brutally explained to her. "What did they do to you?" she asked puzzled. "I'll tell you about it another time, I promise." she said as she stood up and adjusted her T-shirt "See you tomorrow." she added, walking away before she could reply or say goodbye. Dealing with her will be very complicated!

[zippidi-dooda]

Book of Harvest - I

Dearest Y/N,

'Ow ya been Trick? Did ye miss us? I hope ev'rythin' 'as been well. All of us 'ave been pretty busy, our acts get a lot of attention 'n more want to see us perform. Th' troupe 'as just kept on growin' since I last saw ye too, one lad in particular is very sensational, 'as an act all of 'is own. And on 'is firs' day too! Can ye believe it? Was in a bad situation tha' one. I'm glad we were able ta 'elp. Snake, tha's what we call 'im. Curious 'bout 'is act, are ye? Well, give us a visit and see fer ye'self, ye'll be amazed I tell ya. Of course, we'll let ye in fer free, couldn't 'ave made it 'ere without ya, after all, an' couldn't be more greatful. Th' least we can do as thanks so don't think 'bout protestin'  ya hear! Anyway, ye've been busy too, right? Wish ye weren't, ye deserve to sit back 'nd unwind more'n anyone. I'd love ta holiday with ya one day, maybe go s'mewhere away from all the bright lights 'nd starin' crowds. Somewhere peaceful. Over the hills and far away don' sound too bad, eh? But tell me, what's yer job like? Ye didn't give much detail in yer last letter an' I'm interested in 'earin' more. Oh, an' 'ow's yer father? Still workin' at the 'ospitals? Ye should bring 'im along next time ye visit, I think our doc would 'ppreciate the company o' another doc 'ere again. Wish I could write ye more but I'm 'fraid I'm runnin' outta space on th' page. I look forward to yer next letter and 'ope ye the best.

P.S. It took a while ta decide what to get ye, but I think I found somethin' ye'll like

P.P.S. The others pitched in an' insisted on sending this, so hope yer not disappointed 

-J

You chuckled, pressing your fingers to your lips as you read the letter. The writing had gotten smaller as the sender tried to pack the rest of what he needed to say onto the page. 

"Each time we talk you end up writing more and more," you smiled, picking up the wrapped gift mentioned. "I can't now, but I'll definitely stop by for a visit when I have time."

It didn't take even a second for you to peel off the brown wrapping paper from the small, rose decorated box. Inside, there was a glass, puff perfume bottle, a raspberry colored liquid swirling inside. 

You took a whiff of the rose scented elixir, a fond memory of your first meeting with the man signed "J" crossing your mind.

"This must have cost a fortune," You sighed. "I won't let it go to waste, but I really can't just take it without paying you all back. I'll have something for each of you when I see you, I promise."

"What are you muttering about, Dearie?" A familiar voice called from across the dark room.

You folded the letter, tucking it away in your corset, and spritzed some perfume onto your wrists and neck. Maybe you should spray some of the perfume onto the next letter you sent as proof you used it.

Smiling, you walked over wrapped your arms around this silver haired man's waist, cheek resting against his back. "My friends' letter arrived. They sent a gift this time too. It's far too expensive though, so I'm thinking of getting them something in return. Do you have any suggestions, Undertaker?"

The Undertaker giggled and pressed one hand on top of yours. "I'm sure you'll find something they'll enjoy."

You hummed in response. "And what kind of gift would you like? I can't get them something and ignore you, now can I?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I want, Dearie." The Undertaker spun around to face you. "And it won't. Cost. You. A. Cent."

He captured your chin between his thumb and forefinger, long, black nails etching against your s/c skin.

You sucked in a breath, face warming as he forced you to look up at him. 

He leaned close, that contagious smile of his growing wider and more snide as his thick bangs hung like a curtain around you, revealing a perfect view of his enchanting chartreuse eyes.

That unique shade of lime green was bestowed upon a rare, unlucky few, a ring of it mixing into the e/c iris' of your own. You used to see it as a signal of unending misfortune. Until you met him and he made bad luck appear as something to be controlled.

"... Undertaker ...." You uttered, eyes flitting to his lips.

He let out a low chuckle, his chest reverberating against your own. "Give me the choicest laughter! You know exactly how perfect of a gift that'd be." His usual cheery laugh returned and he cupped your cheeks in his cold hands, rambling about what a joy being able to laugh is.

You wanted to be upset with him for teasing you at first, but couldn't help laughing along with him.

"Well, I haven't got any jokes now, but when I find a good one, I'll be sure to tell you, okay?"

He giggled. "Of course, Dearie."

You leaned forward, leaving a feather light kiss upon his soft lips.

His smile didn't fade and he simply caressed your cheeks with his thumbs until you pulled away.

You stood in a blissful silence for a moment, gazing at him lovingly until you remembered you each had a job to do.

"How's your work going today?" You asked, turning your attention to corpse resting in the delicately carved coffin behind the Undertaker.

"Smooth as always." The man said, leaning against the wooden frame of the girl's eternal bed. "Quite the interesting one, she is."

"Oh? How come?"

Undertaker glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a smirk resting on his lips.

He was expecting something.

"Aw, I told you I don't have a joke right now. Can't you at least tell me about this?"

He hummed remorsefully. "Sorry Dearie."

"Please, Undertaker ...?"

He tapped a thin nail against his lips. "I suppose this time I can accept other forms of payment from you, Dearie."

You smiled and eagerly gave him a kiss. "So? What's her story?"

The man leaned down, brushing the girl's bangs away from her closed eyes. "All of my customers are so lovely. I do what I can to make them even more beautiful. Each has a unique story to tell."

Your eyes followed as his hands moved to adjust the neckline of her dress. He was always so careful and attentive when taking care of his cadavers. If they all could see how well fostered they were in his care, you were sure they'd be swooning in their graves.

"Such a rare case. This one might just be the first of many."

"What do you mean?" 

Undertaker scrapped his fingertips against the wooden frame of the coffin as he stalked towards you. The sharp, skirtch, skritch, skritching of his nails started a shudder that coursed through your spine, your ears rang and you squirmed, fisting your skirt in your palm.

His cheshire grin proved pleased with your reaction. "A very important piece of them is missing. One you have all your own."

"And ... what piece would that be?"

A gasp escaped your lips as he suddenly gripped your waist, digging one long, sharp talon into the soft, delicate flesh just beneath your belly.

Then he leaned close, lips grazing against the shell of your ear and he whispered, "the one necessary for starting a family of your own. U~ter~us."

You released a shuddered breathed before leaning as far away as you could, trying to pry his claw from your gut.

"That ... seems like hard work."

He chuckled and moved behind you, chin resting on your shoulder, arms wrapping around you, looking down on the poor soul who had the unfortunate removal.

"Indeed. Very few could have done such a fine job. I believe someone like yourself could have done it if the situation prompted for it."

"... Right."

The strange man pressed his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell heavenly."

"So you like it? It's the gift I was given. Perfume. Rose scented. I'll have to ask where they got it so I can keep wearing it when it's all used up."

"If you'd like to, Dearie. Now, tell me, who's fortunate soul is under your care today?"

"Oh, you already know I can't tell you, Undertaker. But, since you did tell me a bit about your work, I'll tell you this: tonight's soul belongs to someone of very high status. Things may end up disasterous if I don't handle them carefully. Speaking of which, I should really get going so I don't get stuck with overtime. I've been on Will's good side for so long, it'd be a shame if I messed that all up now."

You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before heading towards the front door, pulling on your caplet and tucking your baker boy cap into your skirt pocket.

"Dearie?" Undertaker's voice called, causing you to pause, hand lingering on the doorknob as you turned to him.

"Yeah?"

"Your soul is a precious one. Take good care of it."

Your heart seemed to melt at his words and you couldn't wipe the wistful smile off your lips as you nodded.

"Of course, Undertaker. See you in a few."

He waggled his fingers at you as you walked into the busy streets, shutting the door to his secret work behind.

You stood with your back against the dark wood for a moment, mind hazy with the Undertaker's smile and gorgeous eyes that partially reflected your own. 

"Ah, you truly don't know the extent of power you hold over me, Undertaker." You mused, biting your lip.

You shook your head in attempts to clear your mind of him, dusted off your long skirt, and started in the direction of the palace. Can't keep the Queen waiting now can you?

Maybe on the way back you could pen a reply to the troupe and look around for their gifts. 

That'd be nice wouldn't it?

Though you couldn't just get them one thing, Lord knows how they'd fight over it. But, what could you send that'd be enough for each of them?

Maybe some candy? 

They didn't have the chance to eat many sweets back then, so maybe they'd appreciate it now. Of course, you'd have to get them Funtom treats.

They are the best out there and not to mention their creator was sort of a fan favorite around here.

"Make note to visit Funtom after work," you murmured to yourself, turning round the corner. "Ah, sorry, excuse me."

You bowed politely towards the man you bumped into and continued down the road.

You didn't pay much attention to it.

But the man did.

He didn't say a word, golden eyes simply followed you until you disappeared into the crowd. 

...

Your soul ... it wasn't anything like the others he's encountered before. 

It was incomplete.

Instantly, his interest was aroused.  It didn't make sense how a soul could be not all there, but that was what made him intrigued.  It wouldn't fill him, no, but it would make for the most interesting meal he's ever had.  He could feel that it was seasoned with impurities and fears.  This made your soul delectable to him.  To his kind.

Yes, his kind.  

If anyone else like him were to happen upon you, they'd waste no time in trying to devour you.  He couldn't let that happen.

He wanted it. Your soul. You. For himself.

And he decided then and there that he'd do anything to have it.

°°°

It was dark by the time you had to be outside Victoria's window. The moon was full, shining brightly against the vast rooftops, a cool breeze blowing through the air.

It was a beautiful night out.

You'd need to spent a night up above the dusky streets like this with Undertaker sometime.

Picturing the moment, you smiled and unhooked your billowy skirt, slipping it off your feet.

You dusted off the pair of black slacks you always wore underneath and made sure your caplet was secured around your chest.

You took the cap from your skirt pocket and put it on, tucking all your hair securely inside of it. You tugged your black leather gloves on further, weilded your heafty death scythe and entered the queen's bedroom.

All was quiet as you pattered softly across the thick, carpeted floor. 

The room was neat and tidy, the gold tipped furniture glinting as you walked past, all of it no doubt due to the palace servants' diligent cleaning.

A room like this was a luxury not many had a chance to even see. It was gorgeous and serene.

But something was off.

You pressed on further towards the canopied bed.

The soul in here felt faint.

Red curtains rippled softly from the wind seeping through the ajar window.

You held your breath.

The queen was mighty important, reigning this long had to amount to something. Now, you were tasked with assessing whether she was a valuable living piece in society or if another could just as easily continue in her place.

A big weight on your shoulders, others' lives hang in the balance.

Did the other souls you collected always ebb like this? You couldn't recall.

You licked your lips and reached for the curtain.

One ...

Surely it was nothing,

Two ...

Right?

Three ...!

"She's not there."

You jolted back, spinning around to face where the voice came from.

In the far corner of the room you could see the silhouette of someone sitting in a chair. Their legs were crossed, the tips of their shoes glinting under the moonlight, the white hem of their pants swinging softly as they bounced their leg. 

The human soul you were sent for still lingered in the room, yet strangely enough, you couldn't sense the accompanying presence of this other person's soul.

You tightened your grip on your death scythe, "Who are you?"

"What's it matter? I'm supposed to be here. You are not." The person stood and began to walk towards you. "Though your type always assumes you're needed at a specific time in a person's life. What a nuisance."

They stepped into the light and you could make out the rest of their features. 

They were clad in a white suit with lilac and gold adorning them. Soft hair was dove white, their eyes a soft purple, gazing down at the black, ruffled doll sitting in their arms. A sheathed long sword lay at rest against their hip.

Against the rays of moonlight streaking around them, they looked almost angelic.

They looked up at you, a smile adorning their lips.

"It must irk you to have to leave so soon after making the trip here. But may you rest easy knowing I'm deciding to let you run free."

You'd have to deal with them to be certain, but duty first.

"How thoughtful. But, I'm afraid my orders are clear, sir."

You threw back the red curtains behind you and peered into the bedded cavern. 

There, laying amongst the fluffy pillows and heavy blankets ... wasn't a person in sight. The queen wasn't there.

That didn't make sense. You knew Victoria was in here. Her soul was faint, but it was in here.

The person chuckled and you turned back to them.

Were they hiding her?

"Where is she?"

"Oh, I've already told you she isn't there. As her devout servant it is my job to ensure her safety from any and all intruders. And it is in your best interest to leave now, I will not say it again, Half-ling."

Just who was this guy? 

You flipped through your bingo book, confirming the time and date of Victoria's death. Tonight at midnight. If you took any longer tiptoeing around the issue with this person you'd miss the scheduled time.

You pocketed the book again and glared at the person.

"Interfering with a soul is exactly what I don't need today. What have you done with her?"

Their smile fell and they narrowed their eyes at you. "Do you never heed sound advice?"

"I may not be allowed to interfere with your life if you're not on the list. But I still have a job to complete and I'd rather not do it with all the headache."

You hefted your scythe, took a step forward, and swung. 

Swish!

Immediately the person was behind you, a single hand holding onto the end of your scythe, keeping it in place. 

They were stronger than you.

You strained to bring it down, to get out of their grasp.

"Honestly, there is no end to the amount your type pains me." They tore the scythe from your grip and kicked you to the ground. 

Much stronger.

You grunted, quickly turning over and crawled away from them. Your back stung from the blow, forearms and knees burning from the sudden impact of slamming to the carpeted floor.

You kept your eyes focused on them as they twirled your scythe in their hand. The sharp blade glistened dangerously in the moonlight as they stepped forward.

"Quite the dangerous accessory for a young lady. You wouldn't mind my confiscating it, would you? Of course not."

You scowled and braced yourself, palms planted against the floor, leg stretched out to hit them. You spun quickly, then shot up in hopes of knocking them off their feet and gaining the upper hand.

"I'd think you'd have a little more manners than this."  

Their voice was a soft whisper in your ear. Soothing.

Right before they landed a heavy blow to your side.

You gasped, stumbling as you were thrown onto the bed, clutching your side. You already knew they couldn't be human since you couldn't sense them. And clearly they weren't reaper since they were hindering your work and didn't own those familiar green eyes. But they couldn't be demon either, or else they would've taken a swipe at your soul by now. So if not those, then what?

Red curtains were yanked from their mount with a chink! You'd need to end this soon before they got to you. 

Turn, throw the drapes, lunge, and reach for your scythe!

You acted swiftly, ending up behind them with hands secured around an item.

You brandished it at the person. 

Wait ... was that the doll?

You stiffened suddenly sensing a surge of Victoria's soul coming from it. But that couldn't be right, could it? The Queen was a normal human not a doll. Unless ... you looked up at the soul-less person in the room with you ... this being did something to her.

They tore off the sheets then looked around perplexed for a moment.  Then their eyes landed on their doll. And the air grew dark and still.

"Enough."

In one swift movement their hand was around your neck and they pinned you against the wall. 

"Let's see how you fare now."

And just like that, they let you go, leaving you coughing and heaving against the wall. They stabbed your scythe into the plaster, the flat of the blade gently kissing your ear.

They were even faster than you.

They grabbed a fistful of your hair, knocking your hat off in the process, and yanked you forward. 

"I don't take kindly to those who take without permission. I've come too far now to lose anything towards the likes of you or anyone else. It'd do me well to get rid of you. You are unclean beyond belief."

They were seething.

At this rate you'd just become another Jane Doe, an empty husk in the the ladder of the English empire. There was no way you could move fast enough to counteract them.

But then, they softened and lowered their hand to caress your cheek. 

"But I am a magnanimous being. And an angel must always give the wicked a chance to repent. I can help you, if you're willing to recieve."

You grit your teeth. "In your dreams."

They chuckled, dragging their hand down to your neck. With their teeth, they slipped the ash glove off their other hand.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

Then, they tugged on something you hadn't yet noticed adorned your neck.

And an indescribably pain shot through you, for a moment your mind seemed to numb and blank. You let out a guttural scream.

They hushed you gently, pressing the glove past your parted lips, muffling your cry. "Shh, sh. It hurts, yes? I must teach you obedience somehow. Don't worry, the pain will subside. Though I suggest you don't try to take off this ... pretty, little collar if you wish to avoid more anguish. Only I have the power to free you, much like I would free any other wayward soul from their wicked ways."

They released their hold on you, taking the fluffed up doll from your trembling hands.

One thought made it's way through the stinging haze: get away from them

You spat out the drool covered glove and yanked your scythe out of the wall with one harsh tug. Then, with bleary eyes and gritted teeth, you ran for the open window to escape them.

Only to come crashing to your knees with another anguished cry. The burning, stinging sensation pierced through your neck where the collar sat and was spreading through your entire body like wildfire.

It was unbearable. 

"You'll be punished for any action I do not warrent. Each time will become more painful than the last."

You tried to claw at the collar, feeling the coarse leather and sharpened spikes beneath your leather clad fingertips. But also feeling the same intolerable burn seeping into your finger pads. Aching hands reached for the clasp. But there wasn't one. The collar encased your neck completely, coiling around you with no way to get it off by any means of your own. And the longer you kept pulling at it, the more unbearable the pain was. You had to let go.

But the pain persisted.

"STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"

The angel tucked the pretty doll in the crook of their arm, brushing back it's long gray hair gently. "You'll do as I say now, won't you?"

You nodded mindlessly.

Anything but that searing pain.

"Good, seems you can learn. There may be hope for you yet. I look forward to your cooperation, Half-ling."

And just like that, the blinding pain was gone. You slumped against the floor with a shaky breath, trying to get your bearings, scythe laying uselessly on the ground next to you.

They turned with a flourish, sitting back down in the plush chair once more, singing to the living doll in the most angelic voice you'd ever heard. Comforting the carefully crafted porcelain as if it was the most dear thing in the world to them. Listening, you could almost forget the intense pain they had inflicted on you just seconds ago.

But that was just it. 

Without the voice smooth as silk or tender hands softly caressing the plaything in their arms, this angel was simply a fierce monster, interfering with human life with no regard for the path they were originally intended.

"London Bridge is falling down, falling down ...,"

One of the fallen.

"Falling down ...."

[silverstagspirit]

Survivor of Ramshackle -part 1

This is based off a scenario I mentioned earlier in my blog about Yuu's home being destroyed whilst they were away. There will be multiple parts to this.

A/n: I try to make the MC gender neutral, but I'm sorry if I make an error whilst writing. This Yuu is GN, by the way.

Warnings: mild swearing, Angst, Ace implies keeping you hostage as a joke, but Deuce quickly puts him in his place. The later chapters will get darker.

PART 2

-

Everyone had gathered into the mirror chamber to bid Yuu farewell. The boys had really taken a liking to them. Even if they would put them through a lot of trouble at times. Likewise, they loved the boys, too. As each of the boys take thier turns to say goodbye, they admit some tears were shed. Crowley had found a way home for Yuu right after Grim's overblot, but he informed them that once they went back, they would not be able to return unless extra steps were made. Which of course won't happen. And they accepted the offer. After all, they still had a life and a family back home who were wondering where they were.

"It's not fair! I don't want them to go!" Complained a certain fire-eared monster.

"Grim, we cannot just keep 'em hostage here... but that would be a good backup pla- OW!!"

"WE ARE NOT DOING THAT!"

"Did you really have to hit me that hard Deuce? That hurt man."

"Ace, we must respect thier decisions."

"Yeah, I know I know."

It was now Jack's turn to join the conversation. "Plans have been made for you Grim. So you don't have to worry about needing Yuu for school."

"The Great Grim still needs his henchman to do his bidding and clean Ramshackle."

"Just admit it weasel, you're going to miss them too."

"Fgnaahhh!!"

"You're not helping Ace." Epel turns to Grim. "We understand Grim. Yuu has become a great friend to all of us. But it's time to say goodbye."

"Hnnngghh"

"Yuu! Don't go! Who will feed me tuna? Who will scratch my ears? Who will wrap me up in thier jacket during the winter break? I'm ordering you to stay minion!" Grim cried. Yuu kneeled down to comfort him. "Grim, listen to me. I am going back, yes, but I will not forget you. You mean so much to me Grim. But I still have others at the other side of that portal who are waiting for me. I need to meet up with them." You brush a stray tear from his face. "Do me a favor Grim. Stay here, attend your classes and study well. So that when I return to you someday, you will be the Greatest Mage ever like you wanted and we can go on more adventures together. Does that sound alright?" Grim sniffed and nodded. "Please come back some day." "I can't promise it, but I'll try."

"Oi! Herbivore. Just get going already. I want to leave now."Some things never change." They sighed as Leona sulked. Leona wasn't the only one who was feeling annoyed more than sad at this time. They admit that some of these boys were assholes. Some of them have even yet to apologize after all they've put them through. But they won't let that get in the way of the good memories they had in this world. Or at least they hope.

-

Yuu had just said goodbye to the last person when the headmaster came in.

"Prefect! The dark mirror is now ready! You must come immediately if you are to return home!" He hollered.

"Well, here I go."

Yuu stands up to the portal with tears in their eyes. Their heart hammering. This was it. They were finally going home. They can't wait to see their family again. It's been so long. What has changed since they left? Is everyone doing alright? They needed to know. The mirror pulsates with magical energy. Sparking up at some parts. Yuu turned back to look at the other students one last time. Then, with bated breath, they stepped through the portal.

-

"So that's it."

Besides this one remark. The mirror chamber was filled with silence. No one dared say anything. Everyone filed out of the room and went back to thier dorms.

Two idiots were helping Grim settle into Hearstlabyul. And got collared after breaking three Queen of Hearts rules whilst doing so. Trey baked cookies for them so they didn't complain as much after. After they made it to thier room the three students began to chat and banter with each other. Nothing had really changed for them. Same for the other dorms. Vil did his makeup. Idia did his tech. Leona slept. Azul ran the lounge. Overall, nothing had really changed.

"Kalim. You need to do this assignment."

"Oh, sorry Jamil. I'll be right there."

The vice pressed his dormleader to do what needed completion but something was distracting him.

"Do you think Yuu made it back safe?"

"..." Jamil had a suspicion that that was what was on his mind but he was not prepared to answer that question. "I'm sure they're happy Kalim. Now please get this done. Crewel will not show mercy if you fail."

"I know it's just... I have questions: What do they do? What do they have to eat at thier welcome home feasts?-" "I doubt that they have feasts Kalim." Kalim ignored what he said and kept going. "What are thier family like? I mean they are from another world so thier family structure could be different to ours. Hnnnghhh! Why am I only asking these questions now that they are gone?!"

"KALIM!!"

The housewarden went quiet immediately.

"They are fine okay. Yuu would not want you to spend all your time worrying about them. So just relax. They are fine."

Kalim thought about what Jamil just said.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. You're always right Jamil." The boy beamed whilst the vice rolled his eyes.

----------

I apologize for any mistakes. I also edited this into they/them pronouns because I find it easier to write with.

A/N: Go check out probablynoposts blog. They did a series on this prompt whilst this was still in the drafts. They did a very good job I must say. So kudos to them.

Taglist: @kami-kun1003

[aliscntcrres]

task 03 ; the euology

Alison is wearing a simple black dress ... from Prada's Fall 2004 Ready to Wear line. Paired with a simple, light weight, black cardigan. The golden crucifix and Tank Louis Cartier watch she always wears, paired with simple small golden hooped earrings. Sensible black heels. Hair and make up kept simple but elegant. And I know you're all wondering: Benito is not present for the funeral, he's inside the house probably Alison's room enjoying some peace and quiet xx

" I'd like to start by thanking everyone for being here. Coming together on such short notice. As well as Mrs Tristan and her team, all their tireless hard work to put this together in a matter of days. A wildly impressive feat even for the best of the best. "

What the fuck was she doing. A thought that runs constantly through her mind as she stood in front of the crowd of mourners, beside Richard's new grave. Aside from the way she clutched a card in her hands, the quickly written notes upon it, she held herself impeccably well. Like she always did. Politely mingled with guests before the service started, tried to keep an eye on everyone as they faced Richard's death in an undeniable sense– tried to get an idea of what they intended on saying as well, obviously. But she felt insane for it. She felt insane for every conversation she had, every politeness she regurgitated– even the stupid outfit she'd put together. Thank god she was capable of doing what she had to on auto-pilot.

" A man like Richard Woodrow is infinitely rare. To be intelligent and ambitious is one thing. Without them, the career his hard work earned him, many of us may have never crossed paths with him. Certainly we would have never had any of the opportunities he was able to offer us. But to be those things, and then also as kind as Richard was? To have as open a heart as he did? I've never known anyone else even capable of it. And I'm not sure I ever will again, I'm not sure any of us will. "

His name felt like glue and sandpaper in her mouth each time she said it. She knew the formal way she had usually addressed him was entirely inappropriate in this setting. It would be off putting to hear her called him Professor Woodrow and then say the words that were expected of her, and then hear the other wards she spent so much time with share anecdotes and memories of him. But to her? It made her sick to her stomach. That flicker of anger she'd felt when she'd first read Mrs Tristan's letter had been ignored but truthfully it hadn't dimmed. The act she put on so well only fanned the internal fire.

Pause came as she looked at the next note on her card. It told her to share her own anecdote. She'd written down the words 'first meeting' but standing here, staring at those words, feeling the rage burn in her stomach – there was no way. She knew it would make her seem a better person, more relatable, more empathetic. But why did she owe that? Why did she owe it now? So, Alison detoured. If she could escape vulnerability even at a funeral, she might just survive the next few days.

" I won't speak for the others, as you'll hear from them all too. But I can only say how grateful I am for everything he gave me and everything he gave to all of us. From the most basic necessities like a roof over our heads, to education, to health, to confidence, to purpose, to belief in all of us. And to connecting us to one another. "

She could feel her act. Perfectly practised and perfectly in place, it usually felt entirely effortless. Usually it felt real. Her posture, her features, her perfectly calibrated words. Usually her greatest strength, her greatest protection, it felt like her greatest weakness. She wondered if she came across as much of a fraud as she felt. She wondered if she cared what anyone here thought of her. She wondered how much longer the flood gates would hold back the rage and sorrow within her. She wondered how heartless she seemed for not sharing any sort of personal story, no matter how short. She wondered if Professor Woodrow even really liked her, or if she was the start of something that changed when he met Estrella. She wondered it all with a sadness delicately coating her features. Showing that she had the appropriate, solemn feelings about this, but that she was good at holding them back. Exactly what any guest, any of the fellow wards, would expect from her.

" I idolised him endlessly, and I'll miss him dearly. "

[veilder]

please excuse my word vomit but I shortened the hell out of my caption to avoid being annoying and your tags on my art sent me into a frenzy haha

so my favorite pre relationship dynamic for convin (and in my current fic) they start out as enemies with benefits who accidentally develop feelings but are in denial and know the smart thing to do is to stop and so every time they hook up is the last time (until the next time). and you’re right I drew gavin with the pained expression bc he’s the first one to realize his feelings are feelings but he doesn’t think he deserves connor and he thinks connor wants this to stay physical and that hurts but 1. he thinks he deserves the hurt and 2. he’ll take what he can get for as long as he can get it (hahaha ow). I’m allergic to happy endings in my own writing but I wholly support your happily ever after 😄

also no pressure at all just floating the idea but I’d be so down if you ever wanted to do a collab :] anyways yeah I’m happy you liked my pic and your comments always bring me joy, keep on being wonderful

Omggggggg, what a great ask to get!!! Thank you so much for sending this! 🤩🤩🤩 So, one, your idea behind your art is wonderful and fits them both perfectly. Two idiots getting in over their heads and catching feelings? Yep, that's them, lol. Although, I'm already imagining a happy ending for the two of them, even in that scenario, so whoops! XD I know for me, when I saw your art I was thinking that they were set to be separated. Specific scenarios were still up in the air (i.e. investigation gone awry, some sort of terminal condition, human!AU college fling, historical!AU, etc), but there would be some sort of circumstance that would drive the two of them apart. And this would be the scene of them making the most of their last days together, with Connor throwing his whole self into it while Gavin, in an effort to make the inevitable separation hurt less, begins to withdraw, even though it hurts him. And it would lead to a really messy breakup where they both say hurtful things and are just left with so many regrets. But then... there would be some sort of timeskip and they would meet again, both very changed now but never forgetting the impact the other had on their life. And again, something would force them together, whether it's work or some sort of mystery or even just running into each other over and over again. And they would both realize that the other hasn't really changed as much as they initially thought. That he's still the man they fell in love with. And that those feelings are far from dead. And eventually, things would rekindle in a burst of passion and long-held feelings and it would be terrible and beautiful and cathartic and so, so painful all at once. They'd wake to a morning of regrets and, in their fear, again try to sever ties. But they'd be miserable about it and all the life would drain from their days. That burst of brightness they'd slowly brought back to each other has once again vanished and they're both left in the dark. And then, idk, the plot would pull them together one final time and they'd get to have their moments of peril and heroics and emotional confessions. And finally, finally they'd confess their feelings for each other. The feelings they've had for so, so long. And they'd both realize what absolute dipshits they've both been, that they've both felt the same way for years and were just too emotionally constipated to do anything about it. And then I'd probably undercut it with some sort of big BLAMO moment where one of them gets taken out by the bad guy (I've decided that there's a bad guy now XD) and they'd be dying in the other's arms. And you'd think that that's it! That, after so much build up and them finally getting on the same page with each other, that they won't get their happily ever after after all. But then idk, there'd be some clever deus ex machina I seeded into the story early on that comes through for them and they both live and the bad guy goes to jail and everything is GOOD! And then sappy epilogue. XD ...Ugh, see? Look what you're making me consider here with your beautiful art?! I'm plotting. Multi-chapter plotting! UGH! 😫😫😫 No, but seriously, I adore that art and felt so damn inspired when I saw it? I wish I'd had more energy to do something with that, but alas! I was just getting off work and it was very late. 😓😓😓 BUT THEN YOU SENT THIS AND MENTIONED A COLLAB AND NOW IT'S ALSO VERY LATE HERE BUT I'M JUST 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 BECAUSE DAMN SON, I WOULD LOVE TO COLLAB?! Like, I legit cannot make any promises, I've had the worst case of writer's block ever now for a couple years and counting. But even if it's just, idk, discussing ideas or chatting about these idiots or something, I'd so be down for it! Definitely feel free to hmu whenever!!! I'd love to chat!!! :D

[theresawritesstuff]

42, "I came alone."

Lenny opened the door to his dressing room expecting Jo-Jo or Alan, or the club manager, or some intrepid fan hoping for an autograph.

Instead, he found Midge's mother standing on the other side.

"Good evening, Leonard," she greeted primly, as if it were perfectly normal for her to be there. Like they'd run into each other at the deli counter or something.

"Hi." He blinked, suddenly very aware of the residual stage sweat along his brow. "Rose, wasn't it?"

"That's right."

Lenny glanced down the hall, but found it empty.

"Did…Midge bring you? Or are you and Abe out on–"

"No. I came alone," she informed him. "I wanted to talk to you."

"To me?" He couldn't help the surprise on his face.

"Yes." Rose nodded and he suddenly saw exactly where Midge got hers from. 

She waited a moment for him to process before asking "May I come in? This floor is quite sticky."

Lenny stepped aside dumbly, letting her into his dressing room and closing the door behind them despite the apprehensive feeling growing in his gut.

"Um...Did you catch my set?" he asked, attempting a casual conversation.

"Some of it," she replied, giving him nothing more.

"Right." Lenny exhaled, leaning casually against the counter. "So to what do I owe the pleasure, Mrs. Weissman?"

"I've been… doing a little personal detective work. Mainly for my own edification. And there's one question I keep coming back to that I believe only you can answer," she replied, perching herself cautiously on the edge of the dressing room couch.

He smirked, intrigued. "Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Lay it on me," he prompted, wiping his brow with a towelette.

"How long have you been in love with my daughter?"

Lenny stared, speechless, and a little spooked.

He'd spent no more than five minutes with this woman in total. How could she possibly know he…

"I'm sorry, wh–"

"I've been piecing it together for some time now. Miriam no longer confides in me about her love life, but I have been able to discern that she hasn't been serious about a man since her sudden break up with Benjamin. That is… except for you."

"I–"

Rose held up a hand. "I'm not here to threaten you. We both know you're more than capable of making a quick exit of your own volition."

Lenny looked down at his shoes.

"I'm not proud of how I handled myself that morning. Or leading up to it."

"It must have been a jarring experience," Rose replied mercifully, "waking up to such an intimate look into her life. And to being offered blintzes no less."

Lenny smirked sheepishly at her attempt to tease him and lighten the mood.

"You weren't expecting it," she continued. "You're used to meeting her on your own terms, in your own element. Like at a club, or a bar across town. Or on tour in Miami."

Lenny looked up at her again, dumbfounded.

"Like I said, I've been piecing some things together. Susie's assistant Dinah has been very helpful," Rose admitted. "Miriam doesn't talk about her career with us much. And we haven't exactly encouraged her to. Which is probably a mistake on our part but…"

She let out a sigh. "The one person from that world she does talk about in any capacity, other than Susie, is you. She won't say when you've been together or share anything truly personal about your relationship, whatever that may be. But I still know my daughter enough to know when someone means a great deal to her. And when she's been heartbroken."

Rose stood, steadying a soft, weary gaze on him. "You've been there for my daughter from the start of this…odd adventure of hers. More so than her own family. You've lent her your aid unselfishly. Bolstered her courage and I suspect…been one of the few people willing to be at odds with her in order to get her set back on track. Something happened between you two when you played Carnegie last month. I don't need to know what. All I know is it would benefit you both to resolve it. She's got a…gig. That's what you call them, right? Gigs?"

Lenny nodded.

"Yes, well, she's got one tomorrow, at this address." She slipped a piece of paper from her purse onto the counter as she made her way to leave. "I know she'd want you to be there."

Lenny watched her as she stepped towards the door until her hand was on the knob.

"You never let me answer your question," he informed her.

Rose turned back, waiting for his reply.

Lenny pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, considering it carefully between his fingers. 

"Do you remember the flowers I sent?"

She nodded quietly. "It was a lovely arrangement."

He shrugged. "Midge is a lovely woman. In a number of ways. Far more than a guy like me ever deserves."

Rose studied him carefully as he lit his cigarette, taking a long drag. 

"That's the thing you young people always get so hung up on, isn't it."

Lenny smirked. "I'm not that young."

"Then you should know relationships are never built on being deserving of another. Love is a gift, Leonard. Not a prize. And even if it were…you've already won hers."

He looked up at her then as Rose gave him a tired smile only a mother could give. 

"She…"

"Yes." Rose nodded. "So stop being such a drama queen and decide what you're going to fucking do about it."

And with that, she walked out, leaving him with only the sound of her heels on the sticky floor and his own thoughts to consider.

[shares-a-vest]

WIP Word Search Game

rules: share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word)

Tagged by @ghost--enthusiast thanks for the tag Jam 💖 Sorry I took forever to get to this, I got distracted by Steddie Week

My words: Debt, Linger, Throw, Flinch, and Camp

Debt: Didn't have this one in my drafts but have this little exchange between Steve and Wayne at Eddie's bedside post-s4

Steve stops in his tracks a mere two steps into Eddie's hospital room. He makes a startled yelp sound that is loud enough Wayne Munson turns around. The man stuffs his newspaper onto his chair as he stands and bounds for him just as Steve seriously considers making a run for it. "You're the Harrington boy?" Wayne asks, holding out his hand. "Uh, yeah," he replies shaking his hand perhaps a little too firmly due to his nervousness. And then Eddie's uncle is pulling him into a tight hug, crushing enough it sends shooting pain through the barely-healed gashes on his back. He hugs the man in return, looking over his shoulder to Eddie, surrounded by beeping machines and tubes. He balls Wayne's plaid shirt in his fists as he sniffles back a sob at the sight. "I'm forever in your debt, kid," Wayne chokes, "You saved my boy." "No, sir," he insists, shaking his head, "You don't owe me a thing."

Linger:

Dustin asks - nay - begs him to let Hellfire meet up for a campaign at his house. The Wheelers won't let Eddie in their house, Lucas and Erica is basically grounded for life after skipping out on a police interrogation during the Vecna stuff, the Byers have barely moved back to Hawkins (aka Hopper said 'no') and Claudia is sick of, "all the fighting and shouting, Dusty". "Yeah, that makes it more convincing," Steve says to the last one and Dustin realises he in fact has two mothers.  He asks about the other Hellfire guys (who he barely knows) and Dustin said it's a combination of lingering Eddie doubts floating around town and the shouting and fighting complaints too.  Again, not filling Steve with much confidence.

Throw:

They both peer over the top of the box in unison. The two tiny furballs are curled up together for warmth. They’ve been like this pretty much all week. And thank god, because Robin has been on tenterhooks, fearing that her mother will burst into her bedroom at any second. Or her brother who will immediately spill the beans. She’d had a close call yesterday when her mother did a lap of the house announcing her laundry schedule, walking into Robin’s room for her band uniform. Luckily Robin was sitting at the foot of the bed, an easy distance to throw a jacket over the box. But her mother made a face. These kittens really do meow a lot. Robin folds in on herself, bringing her knees to her chest even though she is already balancing on the edge of the bed. "I really can’t keep them here much longer," she panics, shaking her head.

Flinch:

"You okay, man?" "Just reaching an unbelievable level of annoyance and I’ve only been doing this a week," he lamely gestures to his badge as his hand on the plastic container becomes enveloped by Eddie’s. Steve thinks he lets out some kind of desperate whimper, a squeak even, but Eddie doesn’t flinch. Instead, he starts petting his hand. "Wanna come see the band next Tuesday night? I can guarantee an evening of headache-inducing loud music and mildly-stale refreshments." "Sounds splendid." Splendid, really? "In the meantime," Eddie winks as he pushes their hands down onto the container, "These are from Henderson’s Mom. She said you didn’t come over for dinner last week, or something."

Camp: Didn't have this one in any of my wips so I bent the rules and wrote a little ficlet.

No pressure tags: @sharpbutsoft @wynnyfryd @daysarestranger @princessstevemunson @thefreakandthehair plus anyone who wants to do this 💖

Your words are: Sparkle, Pink, Stars, Flower and Splendid

[dogmatik]

shizaya date night! They still are terrible to each other tho lol. plus some notes at the end about how I'd continue this if i got the inspiration.

Word count 1,188

Izaya and Shizuo sit in a booth by the window of a bar, having just finished their meal. Izaya hadn't talked much through it, and naturally neither did his companion. The raven broke the silence with a question, “Have you thought about what I said? The offer does still stand, you know.” he asks, as if what he was suggesting was as easy as talking about the weather. Shizuo looked through the window across the street, watching cars pass on the rainy road, their taillights glittering red against it. He was irritated, and he tried to ignore the way his eye twitched with the feeling.

“You're pretty when you think too hard.” Izaya remarks almost dreamily. Shizuo's eyes snap from the window to the man across the small table, narrowing angrily. The warm light somewhere above and off to the side of them softening Izaya’s sharp features to something almost serene. Izaya is leaning on the table, chin resting on his palm. “It's weird that you invite me out just to criticize me.” Shizuo says, his eyes dropping to the half empty glass of milk in front of him. “Don't avoid the question, Shizu-chan.” Shizuo is startled when a waitress comes by to give Izaya the check, but narrowly avoids jumping. She chats idly but happily with the dark haired man for a moment.

Once they're alone again, Shizuo huffs. “I’m not letting you pay shit for me. I know how it’ll go, I don't want to owe you anything.” There's heat behind his words, like the very thought of being indebted to Izaya makes him want to vomit. Izaya thinks it's a fair reaction, but he's never been one to let well-enough be. “Oh come on, can't you believe I just want to spoil my boyfriend?” He purrs, and Shizuo chokes on the milk he just sipped. Izaya waits patiently while Shizuo hacks up the liquid in his lungs. “Your what?” he demands, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Izaya just tilts his head ever so slightly, feigning confusion. “What? Are you not my boyfriend? We are currently on a date, you know. Or did you think I was just being friendly last night when I-” Izaya's inappropriate rambling was sharply cut off by a hand over his mouth, the bleach blondes cheeks reddening obviously even in the low light.

“God, what is wrong with you?” He asks indignantly, barely keeping the question below a shout. “I know we’re on a date, okay?” Shizuo retracts his hand once he's certain Izaya won't continue with his thought, and has to fight the urge to fiddle with his tie. “I just. You’ve never.” He pauses. Made it official, he wants to say. Called me that before, would be the next best thing, but he settles on: “I mean you don't do relationships, right? That's what you said, before.” Izaya almost cackles at the bashful way Shizuo's eyes won't meet his own, he doesn't, but it's a near thing. “Well not usually, no. But our relationship is rather unusual, wouldn’t you agree?” Izaya leans forward. Shizuo is reminded of a cat, or more closely a snake, by the smirk flashing Izaya’s almost too sharp teeth.

“But I do think of you that way, and I want to help.” Izaya says. “I don't need help.” Is Shizuo's reply, his tone is softened by the thought of Izaya really calling him his boyfriend, maybe even when he talks to his friends. Then Shizuo frowns, because he sure as hell hopes Izaya doesn't talk to any of his 'friends’ about him, where the fuck did that come from? Besides, he knows very well that Izaya doesn't have any friends save for Shinra. “And you’ve left me again. You know I really would love to get a peak at that brain of yours, Shizu-chan.” Izaya says, leaning back and draping a thin arm over the back of the booth. He takes a drink of the black coffee in front of him. Shizuo's frown deepens, wondering how he drinks the sludge, and why at 7pm.

“I know how loans work, I work for a collections agency, remember? I’m not doing it.” Izaya’s mood seems to dip just slightly with that comment, growing impatient, the smirk he had losing a bit of its sincerity and his shoulders almost imperceptibly tensing. “Please, I know you couldn't pay me back, look at where you live.” Shizuo bristles, grip tightening around the glass in his hand. “I just want to be generous, is all. Besides, the less you work the more time I’ll have with you.” “What’s wrong with where I live?” Shizuo snaps. Izaya laughs and Shizuo gets the sense he's said exactly what Izaya wanted him to, and that thought just makes him more irritated. “Oh nothing.” Izaya starts smugly. “I actually think it's endearing that you're comfortable living somewhere so shabby. It makes you seem humble.” The look on Izaya’s face is the last straw, his smile mean and eyes glimmering with that all too familiar superiority.

There's a ‘pop’ and Shizuo can feel the little pieces of glass in his palm from the crushed cup in between his fingers before he actually looks at it. The milk he can feel dripping onto his leg off the side of the table makes him even angrier and he fights the urge to yell. Shizuo has just enough restraint to avoid punching the table in half, and instead stalks out of the bar past some very concerned patrons who scramble out of his way. He’s breathing hard through his nose when he pushes through the door. He walks to the left, unbothered by the rain or the fact he doesn't know this area of Shibuya. He doesn't get far before he hears Izaya call after him, but he tries his darndest to ignore it.

“Shizu-chan! Don't go throwing a tantrum without me, you know I get lonely!” Izaya taunts, following the taller man further into the rainy night.

(end of chase scene, outside of izayas apartment. “ahh i missed that! things were getting a little boring, dont you think shizuchan?” shizuo was tired, but this sorta reignites his anger. “is that what that was about? you insulted me because you were fucking bored?” “of course not! dont be silly. im just too good at getting under your skin sometimes.” “unbelievable.” he begins to stalk off, exasperated. Izaya whines to him not to leave.)

The Van Gang sit on a park table, munching on gas station hot dogs and chatting. their breaths create little clouds around their faces, the cold air and subtle rain making them shiver. Erika wears her signature hat and a much thicker jacket. She perks up suddenly, having remembered a particularly exciting piece of city gossip. “Hey, I heard someone saw Shizu-chan going into Izaya-kun’s apartment last night~” she says, remorselessly interrupting Kyouhei’s talk about his day. The latter huffs and rolls his eyes. “That guys apartment is probably trashed then, good.” Saburo replies. Erika smiles dreamily “What do you guys think they were doing?” she rests her chin in her hands, swinging her feet under the table.

[apricusnights]

Chapter Twenty-two: Family.

Location: Somewhere in Apricus.

Hades: "Strange, usually he doesn't ask us to look up anything that isn't Morely related."

Russ: "Something spooked him. He says he thinks he knows that girl from somewhere. Or at the very least, she smelled like somewhere he's been but can't remember."

Hades: "Esmeray." Turning one of the monitors to Russ.

Russ: "Ciar Industries employee but without an official job title. There is literally nothing here except basic trivia."

Hades: "Do you remember back during the Ciar gala when Kash got sick? You two were close to the labs, weren't you? If I was a betting man, I'd say we need to get into those labs. The girl probably smells like them, at least to Kash."

Russ: "Awful lot of trouble breaking into one of the most secure buildings in the city."

Hades: "If we were anyone else but us, yes."

Russ: "I'll get her ready, she knows how to navigate the Ciar systems."

Hades: "I'll get Kash and meet you near the tower. There are a few points of entry we can pick from. I do wonder though, what is this really all about."

Russ: "Kash wants to find out where he came from. We owe it to him to try and figure it out."

Hades: "Maybe so but I do worry he won't like the answers he finds.."

Location: Solis Heights.

The war museum was always a mixed bag for Oct. Some of the exhibits were things before his time, others were items he recognized. A large exhibit was dedicated to the might of the empire. The same project that paved the way for people like him. He stood there for a good while just taking everything in. He'd seen it all before, many times. Yet it never failed to stir up emotions. So much so that he was glad no one else was around. He'd have to thank Commander Fisher for the 24/7 access.

When he finally finished, he made his way outside. The cool autumn air was a welcome change, it'd been entirely too hot up until now. It was at that moment he rolled out of the way as a blade swung for his head. The improved agility of his upgraded armor certainly did come in handy. He quickly turned and fired off a few shots in the direction of his attacker.

To say he wasn't surprised to see the so-called "Betrayer" was an understatement. The two had clashed several times leading up to this. This time though, this time he was going to get his answers one way or another. Pulling out his chainsword and meeting his opponent head-on. His weapon creating sparks as it struck the Betrayer's blade.

Each of them tried pushing the other back but neither was able to gain real ground. Until of course Oct let go of his sword and spun to the side. The Betrayer's own momentum made him stumble forward just enough for Oct to land some strong hits, knocking the Betrayer's sword away and forcing him to focus on defenses. No point in pulling out any other weapons, it would just waste time. Just keep hitting him. The strategies were running through his mind. The best option seemed to be just keep attacking, don't let his opponent manage to go back on offense.

The relentless assault continued. Oct even managed to spin behind his bulkier opponent before landing more strikes to the helmet. The Betrayer finally managed to get an opening and slide forward, grabbing his chainsword again. Oct however had anticipated this and had grabbed his own as well. Oct's slight advantage in speed allow him to strike first, bring his blade down on the Betrayer's helmet. Sparks flew once more and the helmet started to split apart, forcing the Betrayer to fall back.

The Betrayer seemed amused. Putting his weapon away before reaching up and discarding his helmet. Oct finally was able to get a look at the face hidden behind the helmet that had haunted him. It was a face he'd seen before, one that made him drop his weapon. One that made his very blood run cold.

Betrayer: "I was hoping for a more spectacular reveal, but I suppose this one has to do. Been a while, hasn't it?" Though his face was heavily scarred it was still recognizable as a member of Oct's old team.

Betrayer: "You know, if you'd have just stayed out of our business this wouldn't have had to happen. You could have gone the rest of your life thinking I was dead."

Oct: "Adreas...how..."

Betrayer: "Did you really think the syndicate was working on its own? As good as they are, they had no way of knowing where we were going to be. What we were going to be doing that day. I made a deal, my own survival and something I very much was willing to sell you all out for. In return, well you can guess the rest." Smirking as he watched the shock in Oct's face be replaced with rage.

Just as Oct was about to unleash everything, he had against his former teammate he felt a searing pain surge through his entire body. He fell to the ground, unable to move. A masked member of the white rabbit group walked into view carrying a strange weapon. Obviously, what had rendered Oct helpless.

White Rabbit: "The Queen requests your assistance. Do you wish to dispose of this one?"

Betrayer: "Not yet. I want him to have all the answers first. If he's smart enough to find them." He picked up his damaged helmet before leaning down to look at Oct.

Betrayer: "If it matters, I did feel a little bad about what I had to do. You all were family after all." Shrugging as he stood up and took his leave.

Oct managed to pull himself along the ground and leaned against a nearby tree. Tapping an emergency button on his armor. It wouldn't be long before help arrived. A thousand new questions occupied his mind as he was loaded into a medical vehicle.

Location: Upper Docks.

Lye finished up cleaning off the tables, her shift at the restaurant having ended a few moments ago. Well, the operating hours themselves had just ended when her mother flipped the sign on the door to closed.

Lye: "I don't think Dad is ever going to give me a straight answer. Says I shouldn't worry about it and to focus on more important things but..."

Lacie: "But you can't stop thinking about it can you?" She sighed and pulled a chair out, taking a seat and motioning for Lye to do the same."

Lacie: "I wasn't the only one who had eyes for your father. There was a woman my age.."

Lye: "Wait, are you going to tell me all this is about a crush or something really cliche like that?"

Lacie: "Not entirely. She was my best friend growing up. Wasn't a member of our clan but her own clan and ours had a blood bond. We were as close to family as you could get without being official. If things were different, she likely would be like an aunt to you now."

Lye: "What happened?"

Lacie: "Your father was undergoing his trials. You know the story he told you as children about having to face one of the emperors. Well, your father embellishes a lot. Some of what he said was true, some of it was well..."

Lye: "I know, but where does your friend fit in."

Lacie: "She was growing jealous of me. She wanted your father for her own. The truth was he never had eyes for her, I think it started to eat away at her over time..until she did something terrible."

Lye: "What...did she do?" Leaning forward as she listened to her mother.

Lacie: "Your father was gone away on another attempt to become chieftain. She took advantage of this and convinced members of her clan that your father would be a terrible leader, that he would bring us all to ruin. She has this gift, people just..listen to her and become enraptured."

"There was a coup. The current chieftain, your grandmother was getting older and had taken ill. The other clan struck; we were unprepared. I tried to reason with her but.." She rolled up her sleeve and showed scars on her arm. Scars Lye had seen before but never truly questioned.

"Her power comes from another god. A darker one, I don't know what she did or what she offered to attain it, and I don't want to think too much about that. In any case they struck down many of us, she had no regard for anyone's life."

Lye: "What was the point, what did she want to accomplish?"

Lacie: "She proclaimed herself chieftain. Her goal was to force your father into pledging himself to her. They would rule together, in exchange there would be no more bloodshed. Your father was successful and was sent back to us. We were instructed to keep quiet about the situation or those she had decided to capture would be executed."

"After the initial celebration had ended, she made her grand entrance. Your father had professed his love for me, but I turned him down. I had to."

Lye: "They fought, didn't they?"

Lacie: "Yes, but not without great cost. Your father was in a situation where there was no way out and no way to win. The so-called greatest failure she told you about..." She'd sigh and stand up. "Come on, we need to take a walk."

Lye nodded and stood up, following her mother to an unknown destination.

Location: Apricus Sewers.

Beatrix had no idea what she was doing or why she was even down here. This had to be some sort of mistake. She wasn't able to sleep and had taken a walk only to notice Chiyo of all people leaving Cherry Hills. She quietly followed and kept out of sight, curious what the other woman was up to.

When she saw Chiyo stop and converse with some hooded figure, more questions started to arise. She ducked behind a building as the two spoke. Moments later Chiyo was on her way back to Cherry Hills. Beatrix though was more interested in the other figure, decided to tail them.

The trip had taken her down into the sewers where she struggled to keep up and retain a low profile. Eventually though the hooded figure entered what seemed to be a secret room behind a false wall. Beatrix followed but stopped outside of the room, listening to the multitude of voices chanting inside.

One voice however seemed far too familiar. It sounded like Leiko but..different. Couldn't be, Leiko was gone. She waited for the right time and looked around the corner into the room. The hooded figure had taken center stage behind a podium and began to speak to the others. Beatrix's eyes went wide as the figure removed her hood to reveal what once may have been Leiko.

Beatrix pulled back, her heart beating out of her chest. What did they do to her, was that really her? Nothing made any sense, what could she do? She didn't dare reveal herself for fear of what could happen. Who could she even tell? Chiyo was talking to this being, so that took her out of the equation. Was Chiyo in on it..whatever it was? She had no time to think as she heard footsteps approaching.

Deciding that there would be time for questions later. She crept away, slipping back into the shadows so she could find an alternate exit from the sewers. Maybe those conspiracy theories she'd been hearing weren't just theories after all...

Location: Hidden Sea

Night: "Well..we're alive.."

Sable: "Barely, and I think the ship might be wrecked."

Hugo: "Yeah but look where we fuckin are! This has got to be it! The hidden sea!"

What remained of their ship was currently resting on the pristine white sand that surrounded the strange island. The island itself was one in a chain encircling one island in the middle. Behind them was nothing, no trace of the waterfall they had tumbled over.

Cerise: "Ok, done throwing up now I think.." shaking herself off as she looked around.

Sunil: "If this really is where we think it is...why is the island in the middle still here?"

Night: "What do you mean?"

Cerise: "He means that in the stories, the ancient civilization that lived there sunk the entire island to destroy some race of space bugs or something."

Sunil: "And yet there it is..."

Hugo: "Forget that! One of these islands has that hunk of space metal! If we find that fucking thing, I can make the best weapons and armor anyone has ever seen!"

Sable: "You already do."

Hugo: "Just means I can charge more for em babe."

Sunil: "Uh, nother question."

Cerise: "Has anyone seen Puck?"

During the rather violent descent, Puck had found himself thrown from the ship and separated from the group. He came to in a small section of tropical jungle, looking around and being impressed by the sheer size of the trees.

Little did he know, someone was watching through his very eyes. Talos sat in his lab in Apricus, amazed by what these fools had managed to discover. Puck was proving to be an extremely useful tool. Soon Crepusculum would lay claim to these islands and any materials or ancient technology hidden there.

Puck wandered a bit before hearing the other's talking. Though before he could exit the jungle, a strange portal of sorts opened up behind him and a figure stumbled out. The woman was barely able to stand and tried to focus on Puck. He turned and for a moment was stunned at who it was. The two simply looked at each other in silence. Talos zoomed his camera in to get a better look, smirking at who Puck had found himself with..

To be continued.

[likeafairytale]

“ I missed you so much! I have so many things to tell you. ” - Anastasia hugging Miakoda and not wanting to let go after her and Achilles saved her

Miakoda was still in a daze when Anastasia hugged her. She barely could move, still weak from the drugs and the lack of blood, but somehow she succeeded to put her arms around the girl. Even if she wasn't hugging her as tight as she wanted, the gist was there. The vampire closed her eyes and put her face into the demigoddess' neck. At this moment, she knew she was finally safe, and she couldn't help but silently cry into the arms of her friend. Anastasia wasn't truly surprised by her reaction, and didn't even want to think about what she had been through since the last time they meet each others. The lycan hummed to the vampire to appeased her while stroking her hair, making her understand that she was in good hands now, that nothing will ever happen to her anymore.

“Thank you.” Miakoda succeeded to say through her tears.

“It's fine, I'm here.” Anastasia reassured, still stroking her hair. “I won't let you again. I promise.”

“I missed you too. Very much.”

This made Anastasia smile brightly, before she kissed the vampire's cheek. After a moment, Achilles arrived. He succeeded to implant a fake memory into the seller's mind, making him believe he paid the 15 000 dollars he owed him for the woman, and the seller didn't doubt his own memory. The demigod was proud of him. He had a smile on his face, but the smile faded the moment Miakoda saw him and left Anastasia's arms with difficulty, stepping back from them both. It was clear that the girl did not trust men, and seeing what happened sooner, Achilles could understand why. He automatically raised his both hands to show her he did not want her any harms, he even stepped back to let her more space. Anastasia, as for her, looked at both of them before coming between them, looking at Miakoda.

“No, it's fine! He is a friend.” She reassured, but she could see that Miakoda was still wary.

“He is the one who bought me... No friends do that."

“I'm the one who asked him. I needed you with us, and that was the only way.” Anastasia explained, and it seemed to appeased Miakoda. “I needed you to be free.”

“But he paid for me. I'm not free, I belong to him.”

“We didn't really pay, we lied about that. So technically, you are free. You belong to no one. Believe me. Achilles will never hurt you.”

“Hmm...” Achilles said, clearing his throat. “Can both of you speak in a language I know, please?”

Anastasia frowned, visibly a little confused by his words, before realizing that Miakoda and her were speaking in Miakoda's native tongue. The demigoddess couldn't help but laugh at that and shook her head a little. But Miakoda was still wary of Achilles. She came closer to Anastasia, took her hand, but stay away from the man, who stepped back once more. He felt a bit of hurt, for he always thought he was someone worth being trusted but seeing how suspicious the girl was, he started to doubted that.

“Miakoda, this is Achilles. My best friend. I told you about him once or twice.”

“Only once or twice?” Achilles asked, offended.

“Oh... He is the one who angered your Gods...”

“That's what you said about me? Not how nice I was, or how good of an illusionist I was. But how I angered the Gods?”

“Shut up.” Anastasia laughed and winked at him. “Achilles, this is Miakoda. We were... roommates, if we can say that like that, in a temple. We escaped together and stayed together for a while. But somehow we were separated.”

Miakoda relaxed a little now that she kind of knew who was the man in front of her. But she stayed near Anastasia anyway. The demigoddess started to walk, she wanted to be as far away as this stupid place as possible, still holding Miakoda's hand in one side, while she took Achilles arm on the other side. The woman seemed in a particularly good mood now, and was leading the two others in a park, for she wanted to be in a quiet place with them, far away from people gaze. She sat on the ground, not caring about her pretty dress, Achilles and Miakoda did the same. For a while, they stayed silence. Achilles was looking at people passing by, looking at them with puzzled look for being on the ground, which quite amused him. Miakoda was playing with the grass, pulling it off in order to occupy her mind. She was still in a daze, which is why her head was resting on Anastasia shoulder, while she closed her eyes. Anastasia, as for her, was looking at the clear sky, and a thought went through her mind. She turned around to face Miakoda, bringing hers and Achilles' attention on the lycan.

“Wait, how can you walk in the daylight?!” She suddenly asked, confusing her two friends.

“Oh, thanks to this.” Miakoda answered, showing her one of her ring, a pretty one with a half moon and a star in it. “I met a witch, in Salem. She was nice, and she knew a spell to make me walk in the daytime.”

“That's fantastic! We will be able to do so many things together!” Anastasia couldn't help her enthusiasm, and that made Achilles laughed a little. Then, her smile turned into a frowned. “You must be hungry, aren't you? What did they use to make you so weak? When was the last time you truly ate?”

For a moment, Miakoda said nothing. She toyed with her bracelet, a bit nervous. Her eyes went from Anastasia to Achilles, –who was still at a good distance of her, and was barely listening, letting the two women catching up– before she looked at the ground, going back to pull the grass off. The girl could barely remember the last few weeks to be honest. She knew she was drugged daily, in order to keep her as weak as possible, because the seller knew what she was. They didn't think it was important to tell the buyer, though, after all they just wanted the money, who cares what happened to the women and the buyers after that? The vampire sighed a little, before she laid down on the ground, looking at the sky.

“They used something called vervain. It makes me very weak, and it hurts a lot...” She finally answered, while Anastasia laid down next to her, her head pressed against Miakoda's shoulder. “I think the last time I really eat was three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks?!” Anastasia repeated while raising. “Oh, no, no, no. come here, drink from me.”

“No, I...”

“Shut up and do it. No one will notice. Ash, keep an eye on people, please.”

The young man did not understand what she meant by that, but he obliged. He looked around, but no one was in the park or at least not the part they were in. from the corner of his eyes, he saw Anastasia rolling her sleeve and handed her arm to Miakoda. Achilles was puzzled, until he saw a hesitant Miakoda sticking her teeth into Anastasia's wrist. The lycan sighed a little with displeasure for it probably hurt a little, but did not move for all that. The two demigods looked at Miakoda drinking thirstily from Anastasia, who slowly started to lose her balanced. Achilles came closer and hold his best friend, so she won't fall on the ground, and Miakoda seemed to be aware of that for she immediately stopped drinking.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't want t-”

“It's all fine. As long as you feel better, it's fine. I have plenty of blood.” Anastasia said with amusement.

“You could have told me she was a vampire!” Achilles intervened, which made Anastasia frowned.

“Does that change anything?”

“No, of course not, but I would have loved to know this piece of information sooner. Before seeing her in action, for example.”

“You're being too dramatic.”

“You both are funny.”

Miakoda's words bring Achilles' and Anastasia's attention to her. She laughed, and they couldn't help but smile at that. Anastasia, although a little weak due to the loss of blood, came closer to Miakoda and hugged her tight. This time, the vampire was able to hugged her back properly. Yes she felt still a bit in the daze, but thanks to Anastasia's blood, she felt better, she regained some colours and was less weak than before. Who knew that demigods' blood were more powerful than human blood. Once again, Anastasia kissed Miakoda's cheek, making her smile and giggle a little.

“I thought about you all the time, you know. We shouldn't have been separated.”

“I thought of you too. Every full moon, especially.”

“All of this is quite touching, really, but it's getting late, ladies. Let's find a place to spend the night.” The women agreed to Achilles words, and they all got up in order to find aninn to rest for the night.

[peppermintquartz]

Sometimes I like to think about the life I set out for Playroom!verse Joe and I feel kinda bad about all the shit he had to endure

(Talking about an OC at this point tbh, he just has Samoa Joe's appearance and the easygoing/murderous flip)

Like, his dad was in the Business and was killed, and Joe would have been killed if he had been there on the boat. Instead Joe lost his father and both his younger sisters, and his quest for answers and later vengeance means he must estrange himself from his mom.

As he learns to be a killer (started out as an accomplice, helping work out the details, trail people, and meanwhile learning the skills, and finally killing for the first time - he had to steel himself for that, and after that he cried himself sick for the first and last time in private, and then he shut that part of himself away forever) he picks up clues on who did his father in, who didn't adhere to the rules of the Business and killed children not even out of grade school.

Joe learns that he likes sleeping with women, and then later he finds that sleeping with men isn't too bad either, except for that one dude who insisted on topping him and it was so unpleasant an experience that Joe never wants to feel that again (he won't give in on this account again, not until Mustafa, but at this point Mustafa hasn't even been born)

And then he meets Finn, a young Finn who's still hungry for wealth and power and influence, who senses the soft heart buried deep inside Joe and is kind enough not to poke at it, but hardened enough not to want what Joe was willing to give, and Joe isn't willing to give up revenge. He goes around the world, refusing roots of any sort because he has to hunt some men down, and in the process has several flings with men and women who disappoint him or walk out on him, which he's not surprised by since he can't give them anything more than physical pleasure, he's not willing to do that. A few remain friends, like CD and a cafe owner in Cincinnati. A handful become rivals, like AJ. Most become memories of a pleasant time; he can't remember their faces or names.

The only one who stays is Finn, and even he is only an occasional partner (except he is also more, because Joe has never lied to Finn, not even about his past, and it's dangerous giving away his secrets to someone who makes a living using secrets for leverage and connecting people to kill other people; Finn has repaid the trust by giving his true name to Joe, knowing that Joe will look up his family and other secrets)

And along the way Joe kills the people who killed his father and sisters, and with some difficulty, also ended the man who ordered the kill, and that is a wrap on that part of his life. But his skills have been honed and he can't do much legit work, so he has to remain in the Business. He earned the right to give tokens of his favor, too, so he makes five of them. One he gives to Wick, another to Finn, a third to CD, and one he sends to Regal. They all owe him. Wick needed papers to get married; Joe knew a guy who knew a guy. Finn and Joe each have the other's favors, as close to a pledge as they'll ever get. CD wouldn't have been promoted to where he is if not for Joe's tips about certain people and places. Regal asked for one, and later helped Joe get set up in a city of his choosing.

The last one he makes it differently, and he sends half of it to his mother in Chiangmai, along with an address in a separate letter. It's where she's to flee to if she must escape. (The other half is with Kobashi, who has promised to shelter anyone whose half matches his.)

Joe chooses Los Angeles as he thinks he can disappear in there, even if he sets up shop, and so he sets up a shop to disappear in, with Regal's help.

And somehow he ends up with a cynical English goth chick as his barkeep when she stumbled in, shattered by the betrayal of her fiancé who not only broke her heart, hit her, and also stole all her money; she never asks Joe to help her retaliate against the mistreatment, however, just for a job, so he gives her one. Then Finn calls in a favor to shelter a wisecracking redhead who used to work for a very dangerous crime lord in Japan, and Joe ends up with a waitress with a potty mouth, a violent streak, and a tendency to poke about Joe's business.

And then Hunter seeks him out on the recommendation of someone else in the Business and that's how the story begins

[winchestergirl2]

Bit later getting to read this than I wanted to be, but I'm so excited I can read it now!!

Frank and Loco... YES!! They're both ok!!

“Was wearing Kevlar,” he said. “And I was on V24.”

Ahh, thank goodness for kevlar (and V24)

Frank huffed. “I think the kids are calling it Frenemies with Benefits.” 

OMG... I love Frank. Just say it like it is never mind who you are saying it to 🤣 He really just threw her under the bus there (so to speak). I'm so glad he's back.

“Don’t help me, Frank.”

Love this!!

“I’m playing bumper cars with Black Noir in the Lower West Side. How’s that for fucking good?” you said, raising your voice. “He’s trying to kill me and my entire family. I need your help, right now!”

I adore her sass... even with Noir after her, she can come out with something as brilliant as the bumper car line.

“We knew if Soldier Boy was going to break out, it would be because of you,” he said. “We happened to be watching you when we saw Black Noir casing your building.”

Uh-huh, are you sure that's the only reason, Frank? She's so lucky that they were watching her, though I'm not convinced it's entirely to do with her being the reason Soldier Boy would be able to break out or that he owes them that much. 🤔 Can't help but think they care a little more than they are willing to admit.

His eyes opened when he heard you coming. His mouth opened, poised to be snarky, until he actually caught sight of you. Whatever acidic words he’d been about to say died on his tongue as he took in your injuries, from stitched and bandaged head to your arm in a sling. 

Aww, so there is a heart beating in there after all, and she has made her way in there. Who knew that the way to get through to him would be to get injured?

His hand laid on the glass in line with your smaller hand. You could almost pretend the window didn’t exist between you, and the cold glass under your palm was really his.

Oh my goodness, this is so sweet and romantic, and I feel like it really fits where they both are in their relationship.

Also, what must poor M.M. be feeling watching this exchange on the cameras.

Ooh, that interaction between Soldier Boy and Grace Mallory...

“You’ve gotten old as fuck,” he remarked. 

“As I hear it, a few wrinkles don’t bother you in the slightest,” she countered. 

Hahaha, Grace... brilliant. I love how his reputation precedes him.

“Should you fuck up your end of this generous deal, I will also personally make sure that you never see her again,” she said. 

Oh, Grace... low blow, but absolutely in character of her to know where to hit and go for it! Seems she got her confirmation on that, too...

“Actually, it seems you do. And a great deal of one,” she said. “That you’re considering this agreement at all is because of her.”

She's no fool. She can see how much they mean to each other even if they can't (or won't admit it yet) and Ben's reaction will have confirmed it, because you know Grace didn't miss it.

“Ello, gov. Back in business again,” said the Brit. Ben rolled his eyes. 

I can actually hear Butcher here and visualise Ben's reaction.

He then turned his head and released a wet cough that didn’t sound pleasant. The man also looked pale, and if you thought about it, he hadn’t been looking well in the meeting earlier either. You gave him a concerned frown.

Oh dear, this is the effects from all that temp v, isn't it. He's not doing too well, is he?

Their reunion in the bathroom 😍

The smirk on Ben’s face faded. But then his brose rose in surprise as you surged forward and caught him in a hug. Your arms slipped around his middle, and his arms fell around your frame, mostly on instinct. 

When he felt your tears dampening his shirt, heard you crying softly, felt the tremble in your body, he collected you tighter against him, his hands splaying across your back. Something in his chest clenched up…but then it eased. He dropped his lips to your hair. 

This whole exchange, the way she is able to be vulnerable with him and his reaction to it is just perfect, and really shows how their relationship is developing.

Frenchie had slipped you some of the “good stuff” this morning,

Hahaha... that sounds like Frenchie, gotta love him.

Finally, they are going to get some alone time together 😉. Oh my goodness...

Ben braced himself against the door hard enough to shake it on its hinges. It was all you could do to hold onto his arms as his knee pressed between your legs, finding friction against your jeans.

He didn't waste any time there, did he 🥵🔥

Break Me Down - Part 13

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

Word Count: 6,500 Tags/Warnings: Peril, hurt/comfort, angst, and a deal… 

Part 13: A Generous Deal

Frank, Ben’s former henchman, gave you a quirking smile.

Beside him was Loco, who tossed you a wink. He carried a semi-automatic weapon in his hands. 

“You look good, corazón,” Loco said, reaching for your sister. “Let’s get you guys out of here, no?”

“Who the hell is trying to kill us?” Louisa said, accepting his hand after you guided her up from the ground. Frank covered you all while firing back at the shooters. 

Loco snorted in amusement. “Vought. Who else?” 

“Jesus, fuck,” you muttered. “What do they want with me? It’s Ben they were after.”

“Who’s Ben?” Louisa asked. Meanwhile, Loco guided you both out of the apartment and down the stairs. Frank covered you guys from the back as he followed. 

“El capitán, Soldier Boy,” Loco supplied as he pointed to himself and Frank with his gun, “Our boss.”

“Soldier Boy?!” Louisa shot you an incredulous look. You gave her a wan smile before you glared at Loco, pointing his gun away. 

“Watch where you aim that thing,” you reminded him. Loco just scoffed. He covered you when you stepped out of the apartment building, leading you to a black SUV parked illegally on the side of the road. 

Right now, you were grateful for that as bullets seemed to rain down from everywhere. But with Frank and Loco’s expertise, the four of you made it into the car. Frank was your chauffer, and he sped off down the street.

“How the hell are you alive?” you asked Frank. “You were shot point blank in the chest.” 

“Was wearing Kevlar,” he said. “And I was on V24.”

“So he fucked those mall cops in the ass with hot lead and broke me out of prison,” Loco supplied, shooting you a grin. 

You smiled back at him, but when you looked over at your sister, gripping the inside of the car door for dear life with petrified eyes, you grabbed her hand to steady her. 

You turned back to Frank. “We need to pick up my mom. If they’re after me too, then she’s not safe.”

“Where?” he asked. You gave him the address of the hospital where your mother worked. Frank turned a corner sharply in order to change course, making you grip the car handle yourself. 

“Jesus, Frank. Go a little smoother on the wheels, yeah?” Loco quipped. 

“You want a nice kiddy ride, or you want to get there alive?” Frank retorted. “We’ve got a narrow window, even less now that we’ve got a second stop.” 

“It’s not that far. Lower West Side,” you said. And you continued to instruct him through the New York traffic. He was an adept driver, but he wasn’t a New Yorker. You pointed out the best roads to take to get there within half an hour. 

Loco stayed with Louisa in the car (albeit, first with a lot of reassuring that she would be safe with this perfect stranger that she could only suspect was a criminal).

Frank escorted you inside, where you found your mom at the reception desk (thankfully) on the first floor. Her eyes lit up when she saw you. 

“Oh my God, you’re back! How are you, sweetheart? Oh, come here,” your mother said, getting up from her desk to pull you into a hug. You accepted it with a smile, but you grabbed her shoulders firmly and made her see the sense of urgency in your eyes. 

“Mom, I need you to come with me,” you said in hushed tones. She looked around, from you to her confused coworker at the desk beside her.

“What? Honey, I can’t. I’m at work—”

“Now, Mom. I’ll explain later.”

“Marie, you going on lunch break?” asked her coworker. 

“Yep, I’m taking her out,” you supplied, looping your mother’s arm with yours. “Come on! I found this cute little French bistro a few blocks away.”

“Honey,” your mom tried to whisper. She didn’t like the look of Frank hovering beside you. He was a tall man, broad and wearing a long black trench coat—and a gun concealed within. 

“Just trust me,” you told her, gripping her hand tight.  

Somehow you made it to the car without incident. But once the five of you were on the road, with all three women squished in the backseat, Louisa turned to you. 

“So you’re actually helping Soldier Boy now?” she asked, and with a sly raise of her bow, “Or should I say Ben?”

Your face began to heat up, but you clung to your stoicism. 

“Soldier Boy,” Marie gasped. “Didn’t he kill Homelander?”

“May that prick get fucked in the ass for all eternity in hell,” you muttered. Once again, your mother gasped. 

“Young lady. I don’t like that,” she said, with all due side eye. 

“You don’t like anything, Mother,” you quipped.

“Wait, wait. You’re not getting out of this.” Louisa leaned over and grabbed your hand. “What’s the deal with you and Soldier Boy? I thought the whole point of your mission was to capture him.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. 

“I was on the job, things went sideways, I got captured, and things got…complicated.” 

Frank huffed. “I think the kids are calling it Frenemies with Benefits.” 

Louisa uttered an incredulous laugh.

“Excuse me?” said Marie. You gave the man a withering look.

“Don’t help me, Frank.”

An amused smile tugged at his lips. But then it was wiped away. 

“Incoming. Three tails,” he said. Loco looked in the side mirror, and his muttered curse was a confirmation: they were being followed. 

“Where are we headed?” you asked. 

“Supe Affairs,” Frank said. He took evasive measures, banking on corners and doing his best to beat the cars tailing them through traffic. 

Until the mid-size SUV was side swiped by an even larger black one. It slammed into your side of the car, making it spin out. You all screamed as the car flipped over once and managed to land. 

You had to blink drops of blood out of your double vision, but when it cleared, you saw Black Noir had landed on the hood of the car. Your eyes widened. 

Noir raised his gun and shot through the windshield, but while Loco shot right back at him, Frank put the car into reverse—into the path of a coming bus. 

He actually sped towards it. And at the last moment, he sharply turned the car to try and fling the supe off the hood. 

It worked, somewhat. Noir was forced to stop the bus from hitting him directly, causing the front of the bus to fold up like an accordion against his hands. And while he was distracted, Loco threw a projectile at the supe’s face. 

Noir caught it with ease, but he didn’t expect the way it erupted with nerve gas in his face. Before it could affect the normal humans in the car, Frank reversed again and finally managed to dislodge the supe. 

He turned the car around and was able to get the car back into Drive, but the entire windshield was gone, and breathing felt like agony once again. If you had to guess, it was your broken ribs flaring up after the initial impact. 

Your shoulder also ached like a bitch. You didn’t think it was dislocated, but at the very least, severely bruised.

Not broken, at least, you thought bitterly. 

“Oh my God. You okay?” Louisa asked, gasping once she looked over and saw you clutching your arm.

You could also feel blood dripping over your brow and down the side of your face. Your mom also had a knock to the side of her head, but she and Louisa looked more or less fine, if scared out of their minds. 

“I’m okay,” you said, giving them a reassuring smile. You directed it at Frank next, when he glanced back at you with concern.

You fished into your pocket and found your cell phone unscathed. Letting out a relieved breath, you found Grace Mallory’s personal cell in your contacts and started the call.

She picked up on the third ring. 

“Who is this?”

“Grace, it’s me. I—”

“How did you get this number?” she asked.

“Stole it from M.M.’s phone,” you replied impatiently. “Listen, I have a situation—”

“You’re already on thin ice,” she said. “This better be fucking good.”

At that, the narrow thread of your temper snapped.

“I’m playing bumper cars with Black Noir in the Lower West Side. How’s that for fucking good?” you said, raising your voice. “He’s trying to kill me and my entire family. I need your help, right now!”

A beat of silence, and Grace replied. 

“Understood. What are the cross streets?”

“We’re in a black SUV,” you replied, and you gave her the closest streets as they passed by. “We’re heading toward the S.A.”

“Backup will arrive shortly,” she said. Then she hung up on you. 

It was a good thing too, because you lost your grip on your cell when another car bumped into the SUV, this time from the driver’s side. Your eyes widened as you saw Black Noir again, this time with a grenade launcher. 

“Heads down!” you screamed, reaching for your sister.

Just as he would’ve shot at the car, a helicopter flew overhead and shot directly at the supe. CIA units swarmed in in various cars, and it allowed Frank the distraction he needed to slip away from the supe.

Frank and Loco escorted your family to the double doors of the Supe Affairs building. You hung back real quick once they were inside, knowing the men couldn’t go in. They would likely be apprehended. 

“Thank you,” you told them. Emotion made your eyes glassy. Loco gave you a smile and rubbed your non-injured shoulder.

“Just get yourself checked out,” Frank said. He gave you a scrap of paper with two cell phone numbers on it. 

“Reach us here if anything changes,” he said. With Soldier Boy, his tone implied. You nodded and took the numbers from him. Loco left to start up the car, but you grabbed Frank’s arm, holding him back a minute.

“Why’d you come find me?” you asked. “You guys…didn’t owe me anything. You don’t even owe Ben.”

“He does technically owe us,” Frank said. 

You nodded at that. “Well, you could just cut your losses…is it that good a payout?”

His dry smile told you yes, it would be that good.  

“But that doesn’t explain me,” you pointed out.

Frank considered you, as if contemplating the reason himself. 

“We knew if Soldier Boy was going to break out, it would be because of you,” he said. “We happened to be watching you when we saw Black Noir casing your building.”

“Doesn’t totally explain why you’d risk your lives for me,” you said. 

Frank seemed uncomfortable with the question. So you let him off the hook with a smile. 

“Thank you. Again,” you said. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

His lips curved at that. “Me too, kid.”

You ushered your mom and sister through the S.A. building, ignoring the odd and concerned looks from people going about their workday.

You knew the three of you made quite a sight, especially when your face was literally dripping blood, and your arm was pinned to your side. 

You noticed Butcher striding down the hall with M.M., and you called out to him loudly.

“Still think Black Noir isn’t a fucking priority?” you shouted.

Both men noticed you in surprise, but while Butcher was mostly curious, M.M. was concerned. You then ignored them and started guiding your family up to Grace’s office. 

As it turned out, you didn’t have to. She stepped off the elevator and led the three of you into a private office. She had already requested an on-call doctor for you, and he was there waiting with his supplies. 

Marie helped you into a chair, where you let out a shaky breath. The doctor came over to check your shoulder, during which Marie stroked your good arm and Luisa brushed your sweaty hair from your face.

“Not broken or dislocated,” he confirmed. “Just bruised. You’ll need to ice it for a few days.”

“What happened?” Grace asked at last. You met her blue-eyed gaze.

“I told you. Black Noir tried to kill us. I assume I was the target, because he found me at my apartment,” you said with a wince, rubbing at your aching ribs while the doctor wrapped your arm in a temporary sling. He next worked on blotting and stitching up your head wound, which he remarked was shallower than it seemed.

What you needed were some painkillers. 

“I want my mom and my sister placed in protective custody,” you told Grace. 

Both women protested at first. 

“What are you going to do?” Luisa asked incredulously. “You can’t do this by yourself.”

“We’ll take care of this,” you tried to reassure her. 

“And what about school? I can’t just drop out for God-knows how long.”

“I’ll talk to NYU, get them to let you complete your classes online.”

“What about me? My job isn’t so flexible,” Marie pointed out. You frowned, at a loss for what to say. Your guilt was growing by the moment; not only had your family been put in danger because of you, but their lives were about to be completely uprooted. 

“We’ll work it out with your employer as well,” Grace said. 

You gave her an appreciative look. Grace could be a bitch, but it seemed she wasn’t a complete asshole.

When you turned back to your family, hot tears welled up in your eyes and slid down your cheeks unbidden. 

“I’m so sorry,” you choked on a sob. “This is on me.”

Luisa tearfully shook her head, holding your hand. Your mom was in a similar state as she wiped your tears away. 

“I just want you to be safe,” Marie said. “Promise me you’ll be safe.” 

You nodded, but you couldn’t force yourself to lie to her this time. 

In a few hours, you saw your mother and sister off as Grace directed them into protective custody. They would be taken to a safe house tonight, and would remain there until the matter of Black Noir was settled. 

You were exhausted, in pain, and emotionally spent, and you were going to need a safe house of your own. But you agreed to spend the night here at the S.A. building, where there were cots available upstairs for when supes where occasionally held overnight. 

You debated the idea growing your mind, whether it would be good for you in this moment…

But you couldn’t help yourself. 

You had to see him. 

Your steps were slow, but you eventually made it to the “cellar.” 

The guards raised their brows at the state of you, still with dried blood, bruises, and your arm in a temporary sling. Your hard gaze warned them to mind their fucking business. 

“Open it up,” you said, raising an expectant brow. After glancing at one another, one of the guards shrugged. He pressed the button to disengage the outer walls, which parted for your entry. 

You stepped inside, this time grateful for the way those walls closed behind you. You knew the guards would be watching regardless, but the semblance of privacy was enough for you.

Ben was sitting up in his cot, back against the wall with his arms crossed. The stance was familiar to you; he was probably awake, but trying not to fall asleep due to the nerve gas making him drowsy. 

His eyes opened when he heard you coming. His mouth opened, poised to be snarky, until he actually caught sight of you. Whatever acidic words he’d been about to say died on his tongue as he took in your injuries, from stitched and bandaged head to your arm in a sling. 

He got up and approached you, until only the glass separated you two by a few feet. 

“What the fuck happened?” he asked. His voice was gruff, but you thought you detected concern behind his green eyes. 

“Black Noir,” you rasped.

You explained to him what happened from the very beginning. Your sister showing up at your apartment, followed by Noir shooting at you, then Frank and Loco showing up to extract you from the building.

“Those fuckers are still alive?” Ben noted with surprise. You could see that he was pleased by the news, and you smiled. 

“Yeah, they saved me,” you admitted. But then, your lips trembled. “Black Noir tried to take me out. Me and my whole family.”

Ben watched you tear up, his jaw tightening. The fury lighting in his blood gave him new energy as he contemplated just how slowly and painfully he’d take Stan Edgar apart for this. He had no right to sick that damn bootlicker on you. 

And probably just to get to him.

Ben began to pace. He had no other way to vent his frustration, other than hurling up his cot against the wall with a guttural sound of rage. (Which he did, not seeing how it made you flinch.)

He was in this cage, and meanwhile, you were out there. Unprotected. Taking bullets that should be his…and his alone. 

He wiped a hand over his mouth and looked back at you. You were wide-eyed, vulnerable, not sure what to make of his reaction. 

Ben wanted to continue blaming you for his imprisonment…but deep down, he knew you weren’t the one who put him here. He also knew why you wouldn’t break him out either. 

You were stubborn about your convictions—something that frustrated him to no end. But ultimately, he admired you for how you always held your ground, even against him. 

Especially against him.

But right now, you looked exhausted, in pain. He just couldn’t do anything about it. And that irritated him, he discovered.

“Did your dad order the hit?” he asked. “Stan said he was still alive.”

You tilted your head, like you hadn’t thought of that before. Despite your lingering tears, your expression briefly became cold as stone.  

“If my father knew about this, he’s a dead man,” you said.  

Ben inclined his head in agreement. It looked like even you had a limit on what was forgivable.

You sighed and stepped closer to the cell. You implored him, first with your eyes, and then with the truth. 

“Ben, I need your help,” you said. “As long as Stan Edgar and Vought still stand, it’s a target on your back. Now it’s on mine too. My mom, and my sister. Please.” 

Ben seemed to consider it, as his gaze left your face. 

Then, he came up closer to the glass window. 

“Call your boss. Tell her it’s time for a talk,” he said. 

You sighed in relief, covering your eyes with a hand as your tears fell anew. You looked up at Ben, trying and failing to get ahold of yourself. 

“Thank you,” you said.

Ben’s anger crumbled that much more. He sighed and pressed a fist up to the glass on his side to lean against it. You laid a hand against the glass, opposite his. 

His eyes met yours. As resentment drained out of him, slowly, his fingers uncurled. 

His hand laid on the glass in line with your smaller hand. You could almost pretend the window didn’t exist between you, and the cold glass under your palm was really his. A moment later, Ben let his hand fall and returned to his cot. 

Soon, you wanted to tell him. 

You would make sure of it. 

Grace’s heels clacked on the metal ground as the fortified barriers disengaged, allowing her entrance into the observing area of Soldier Boy’s cell. 

The man himself looked up at her from where he sat on his cot, his hair falling over his brows. He straightened and stood, and he met her at the forefront of the cell.

She stopped a foot behind the glass and crossed her arms. Ben’s gaze seized her up lazily—the gray pantsuit and white blouse, the coif of blonde hair piled on her head, the light layer of lipstick across her thin lips. She looked even less fun now than she had in the 80s. 

“You’ve gotten old as fuck,” he remarked. 

“As I hear it, a few wrinkles don’t bother you in the slightest,” she countered. 

His lips curved. He’d never fuck this broad on mere principle, but she was still easy on those baby blues. 

“So,” she began, “Two options. One: you can sleep in here forever, until you look as old as I am. Or two: you’ll work with my team to bring down Vought, on our terms. Which means executing approved targets only. Collateral damage kept to a narrow minimum.”

Her gaze was unyielding, clinical at best. 

“Operate within the confines of the law. And if by some miracle you pull all of that off…you can publicly retire to South America, never to step foot in the U.S. again,” she said.

“We will leave you alone, provided you don’t actively create havoc. And if you deviate from the plan in any way, we will hunt you down and bring you right back here. You will never know peace.”

Ben stared at her, almost amused at her audacity. “That’s your idea of a goddamn deal?”

She ignored him, her expression turning thoughtful. 

“Oh, yes,” Grace said, a finger tapping on her arm, as if she just remembered something. She mentioned your name, making Ben’s brows furrow.

“Should you fuck up your end of this generous deal, I will also personally make sure that you never see her again,” she said. 

Ben’s jaw tensed, his green eyes narrowing a fraction. 

But he figured his best play here was to bluff.

“What makes you think I give a flying fuck about that?” he said snidely. 

For the first time, a bit of humor lightened Grace as her mouth tugged at a smile.

“Actually, it seems you do. And a great deal of one,” she said. “That you’re considering this agreement at all is because of her.”

Ben’s lips pressed together.

“The fact of the matter is, Benjamin, I can make her disappear,” she stated, “even more thoroughly than I’ll bury you if you cross me.”

That threat nearly unhinged him. A vein pulsed in his neck as he ground his teeth.

But he managed to keep his cool, smooth as he crossed his arms and stared back at this platinum-haired bitch. 

“See, you can talk big behind that glass. But the truth is, you need me,” he said. “All you bitches do. And you’re all afraid of me. So if you want to threaten me, by all means…just don’t forget who the fuck I am.” 

M.M. carefully watched the archive footage from yesterday between you and Ben from his laptop. He saw the shift in the supe when you walked in, battered with your arm in a temporary sling. M.M. watched the man’s anger build, but for you instead of at you. 

By the time he made it to the end, watching Ben’s hand meet yours on his side of the glass, M.M. sat back in his seat and frowned, resting his chin in his hand. What the hell…

Maybe Soldier Boy did give a fuck about someone other than himself. 

M.M.’s phone buzzed, breaking him out of his reverie. It was Grace. 

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Team meeting,” she said, instructing him to head up to a conference room on the third floor in ten minutes. Sighing, M.M. closed his laptop and made his way up.

Annie and Hughie were already there, followed by Frenchie and Kimiko, and finally Butcher, strolling in to make his entrance as always. 

You were the only one not in attendance, having gone back to full-time in the Surveillance department. Though considering what happened yesterday with Black Noir, he was surprised you weren’t here…

But once Grace started the meeting, explaining what had become of her meeting with Soldier Boy, M.M.’s already precarious mood darkened even further. 

“It’s an insane fucking deal,” Butcher agreed, breaking the steely silence of the room following Grace’s little report. “But it’s one we’ve made before.”

“You’ve made before,” Annie retorted. “This is crazy. We can’t trust Soldier Boy.”

“But we all know who does,” M.M. said. His gaze shifted to the door, where you had just stepped in. It seemed you were invited to the meeting after all.

You were late, quite literally holding Starbucks. It looked like a caramel macchiato, iced, light froth. You sipped it through a green straw and took a seat beside Frenchie, who offered you a smile as he smoked a cigarette. You returned it before you addressed the group.

“Take my personal stake out of the equation,” you said. 

“So you admit it’s personal,” M.M. remarked. You shot him a glance, but you didn’t let him deter you from your point. 

“Ben is our best play against Black Noir. That’s just a fact,” you said. “He was cloned in part with Homelander’s DNA.” 

“Okay, sure,” Hughie said. “Despite all the…potential logistics problems there, what about Stan Edgar? He’s been one step ahead of us this entire time.”

That was a fair point, one you acknowledged with a nod. 

“I think we should look into Victoria Neuman. She turned on Stan once to protect herself, who’s to say she won’t again?” you said. 

“Or, she’ll pop our heads like water balloons,” Frenchie pointed out, letting out a puff of his cigarette. Hughie frowned and waved his hand across the plume.

“Do you have to do that right in my face?” he asked. Frenchie blew a kiss (and a small ring of smoke) at Hughie with a playful smirk. 

Again, you smiled. “Ben can help with that too.” 

Most of them didn’t like the idea. Annie and Kimiko frowned, while Hughie looked unsure. Frenchie might’ve been persuaded…

Butcher actually seemed to agree with you, shockingly. He looked over at M.M., whose stance in all this was obvious.

“You wanna make things safe for your daughter, taking out Vought is fucking it,” Butcher said. It wasn’t what you expected him to say…but maybe the men had had this argument before. 

M.M. was tense, his hand clenching into a fist on the conference table. 

“You don’t have to tell me that shit,” M.M. said tersely. He looked up at Mallory. “I’m assuming as a part of this fuck-ass deal, Soldier Boy walks free after all this is said and done?”

Grace confirmed this with a short nod, though you could see she wasn’t happy about it either. 

“After the work is done, he won’t be allowed to step foot in the U.S. again,” she said. 

You frowned, upset at that little footnote, but you held in your reaction as you watched M.M. rise out of his seat, his chair roughly sliding against the ground. He dented the table with a heavy fist as he strode out of the conference room.  

Ben rolled his eyes as he took the contract. It had been laid on the tray compartment where his meals were usually slotted through.

You, Grace, and Butcher stood on the other side of his cell. You also thought the contract was stupid; you all knew if Ben didn’t comply with this arrangement, a measly piece of paper wasn’t going to do shit. But Mallory was nothing if not thorough. 

He signed it with the pen and shoved both back through the slot. Mallory collected it and turned at Butcher, and then you with her sharp eyes. 

“On your head be it,” she said. Then she departed the cell, where the additional fortifying walls were left open. With a raised brow, Butcher signaled to the guards to cut the nerve gas. 

Once the mist cleared from the inner cell, Ben took his first real breath in a week. He blinked as the heavy fog he’d been resisting for days cleared, and he stood straighter. His green eyes were on you as the cell finally disengaged, sliding open with a hiss. 

You bit your lower lip as he stepped through barefooted. He still wore the clinically white clothing the S.A. provided, like he was the inmate of a psych ward or something. He eyed Butcher warily.

“Ello, gov. Back in business again,” said the Brit. Ben rolled his eyes. 

“Just stay out of my fucking way,” he replied. 

You wanted to pull him into your arms already. But professionalism be damned, you didn’t want to show your vulnerability around Butcher.

Instead, you held up a plastic bag of clothes and shoes for him to change into, meeting him with a smile. The tightness in his face eased a bit when he glanced over at you, then took the bag with a nod.

“Hungry?” you asked. 

Ben’s lips curved into a smirk. “I could eat.” 

You felt heat flare in your face as your mouth dropped open slightly.

Butcher rose a brow as he glanced between you two. He chose to ignore the supe’s blatant eye-fucking. He just wanted to get this over with.

“First off, let’s get something squared away,” Butcher said. 

He then turned his head and released a wet cough that didn’t sound pleasant. The man also looked pale, and if you thought about it, he hadn’t been looking well in the meeting earlier either. You gave him a concerned frown.

“You okay?” you asked. Butcher gave you a side glance.

“Fucking phenomenal. Here.”

He provided Ben with an S.A.-issued cell phone, and you with the address of a safe house.

“His and hers,” Butcher said, handing you the keys. You understood his meaning; since Black Noir was after you as well, it made enough sense to put you and Ben in the same safe house.

“Now, lest you think of pulling another Houdini act, it won’t hurt to remind you that you will be watched,” he said to both of you (but mainly Ben). “I myself, along with other agents, will be checking in from time to time, making sure everything’s on the up and up.”

“Whatever, are we fucking done?” Ben snapped with impatience. He started walking out of the cellar, towards the open door that showed the brighter lit hallway. Once he stepped out though, he wasn’t sure where to go. 

You gave Butcher a parting look before you caught up with Ben in the hall. You laid a hand on his arm and led him to the nearest bathroom so he could change while you waited outside. You texted with the agent that would be your driving detail, making sure the car would be ready. 

After a few minutes of waiting though, you began to get antsy and impatient yourself. You went to the bathroom door and knocked, opening it a crack. 

“Ben, you okay?”

“Yeah. Come in,” he said. 

You paused, not sure if that was a good idea. But you also didn’t know why that was your instinctive thought.

Taking a breath to steady yourself, you hesitantly opened the door to the men’s bathroom and stepped inside. Ben was already dressed, just fixing his belt.

He wore a pair of dark wash jeans, a plain black shirt, and some boots. It wasn’t his normal look, but even this suited him well. He stretched out the shirt in all the right places, particularly the arms. 

But you blushed as you noticed the smirk on his face; he’d totally caught you checking him out. 

“Well, that answers my question,” he remarked.

Your lips flickered at a smile as you drew closer. 

Looks good, you were about to tell him, but nothing came out. Your voice got stuck in your throat as you looked up at him. It seemed this moment was finally hitting you. 

There was still so much unknown shit on the horizon, between Black Noir, Victoria Neuman, Stan Edgar, your family in protective custody, and all the rest. But at least you had helped accomplish one thing today. 

Your eyes stung as they welled up with tears, and you bit your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling. 

The smirk on Ben’s face faded. But then his brose rose in surprise as you surged forward and caught him in a hug. Your arms slipped around his middle, and his arms fell around your frame, mostly on instinct. 

When he felt your tears dampening his shirt, heard you crying softly, felt the tremble in your body, he collected you tighter against him, his hands splaying across your back. Something in his chest clenched up…but then it eased. He dropped his lips to your hair. 

“What’s this now?” he asked, somewhat teasing. You shook your head against his chest, not willing to answer. His hand fell to your waist and gave you a squeeze. 

“Come on, baby doll,” he said. He grinned a little, though you couldn’t see it. “Where’s that steely bitch who didn’t cut me any fucking slack this week?”    

You choked on a laugh, despite the tears still slipping down your cheeks. 

“She’s a good actor,” you replied. Ben chuckled and soothed a hand over your hair. It gave you hope that he didn’t resent you too much. You were just so damn relieved. 

“I’m sorry this couldn’t happen sooner,” you whispered. You weren’t sorry for not breaking ranks to get him out, but he had to know you’d never wanted him to go from one cage to another.

Ben’s grin faded. He stayed quiet, unsure of what to say to you. 

After a moment, your cell phone chimed and buzzed in your pocket. Sniffling, you pulled away from him enough to reach into your pocket and read the text. 

“The driver’s ready to take us to the safe house,” you said, pocketing your phone. But you still clung to his shirt with your other hand. You were also avoiding his gaze. Embarrassed, maybe.

It made him smile. He tugged a strand of hair behind your ear, prompting you to finally look up at him. He then bucked a gentle fist under your chin. 

It got a small smile on your face, because you knew then that he didn’t hate you. The rage and contempt he’d levied at you this week, it hadn’t been the real him. This was the man you’d held out for…the man you’d caught glimmers of over the past two months. 

Ben cleared his throat.

“Well. You ready, sweetheart?” he asked, raising a brow. You nodded and let go of him, wiping your face to make sure it was dry before you stepped outside. 

Once the two of you left the bathroom, you led him out of the S.A. building. The car was waiting, another mid-sized SUV, and the driver transported you both to the safe house, which looked like it was going to be outside the city. 

Makes sense, you thought. You turned to Ben, who sat with you in the back. 

“How do you feel?” you asked. Still drowsy? 

He didn’t look it. The moment the Novichok cleared the cell, he seemed to regain his faculties. Now, you were more concerned about the potential psychological effects. You were worried about how the past week might’ve set him back.

But Ben only gave you a wry curve of his lips.

“Like a million bucks,” he replied. His gaze roamed over you, noting your healing cuts and bruises from the car chase yesterday. 

“You’re not wearing the sling,” he commented. You rubbed your bruised shoulder. 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you said, downplaying a little. 

Pain meds were doing wonders for you though. Frenchie had slipped you some of the “good stuff” this morning, which had the added benefit of chilling you out for hours. You had come off it a while ago, but you had some normal painkillers in your suitcase. 

You’d been escorted home to collect some of your things, and the suitcase now laid in the trunk. You felt bad that Ben didn’t have anything but the clothes on his back…but you were sure the CIA would provide other things for him once you two got to the safe house. 

Ben surprised you, however, by thumbing an outline around the butterflied cut on your head as he examined it. “Doesn’t look deep.”

“It’s not,” you agreed, blushing a little. “I’m fine, Ben.”

His gaze found yours then, sharp as always. His mouth twitched. 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said. His voice was a rumble, deep and filled with promise. Your cheeks warmed further as you tilted your head at him. 

“What does that mean?” you asked. A smile started to tug at your lips. 

Ben just smirked and crossed his arms, facing the road ahead. You eyed him, but a trill of anticipation ran down your spine. 

It seemed like a small eternity until you reached the safe house, several miles out into Upstate New York. It was a modest, one-story house in the middle of a gated community. 

The outside walls were painted beige with a brown trim. The driveway paved with cobblestone, with a little walkway flanked by small bushes with little red flowers. It was the perfect unassuming place to house the most famous supe alive.  

The driver left you with your bags, which Ben grabbed before you could barely reach out your good arm. He flashed you a grin and waited for you to unlock the front door. 

“Home sweet home,” you breathed as you stepped past the threshold. Your hands fell to your hips while you surveyed your surroundings. 

Behind you, the suitcase and the small duffel bag dropped to the floor. You started to turn towards him, but apparently you weren’t fast enough on the uptake—as Ben hooked an arm around your waist and spun you around.

Before you could even blink, your back was pressed against the door. You’d clung to him on instinct as a gasp fell from your lips. But you looked up into Ben’s smirk, his heated eyes filled with desire, and maybe a flash of relief. 

You felt it too. The sweet craving fulfilled of finally being alone, as he claimed you with a kiss. You made a sound of pleasure, of acceptance as your hand rose to his cheek. 

Your fingers soon slid into his hair as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss. 

Ben braced himself against the door hard enough to shake it on its hinges. It was all you could do to hold onto his arms as his knee pressed between your legs, finding friction against your jeans.

Being with him was a relief, you discovered. And having him inside you was starting to feel like home.

AN: 😏 I know, I'm terrible for ending it there, huh? What did you think of their little reunion here?

Don't worry though, next chapter is the real reunion.

Next Time:

“You need a trim,” you said, letting out a breathy laugh. You kissed his cheek again. Slow, and with purpose. 

Ben let out a sigh through his nose. His eyes closed again at your gentler kisses, your touch. Maybe he reveled in this—being able to hold you back. It felt right. 

If he was honest with himself (and this time, he was), you were somehow able to ease the frayed edges of his mind. Edges that had been starting to unravel in that cell. 

Keep Reading: PART 14

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[gallifriendly]

ok but what actually gets me about the power of the doctor is that ryan and 13 didn’t get to see each other one last time