#this was supposed to become a longer fic but i got distracted

[bellaxgiornata]

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Nine]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader, mentions/fear of miscarriage

a/n: Long time no update, I know. I was stalled with this fic because it wasn't supposed to be long, but then it grew into something bigger and needed a new direction and it took me a bit to figure that out. Now I think I've found it. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Matt’s fingers slowly ran over the braille document on the table before himself, his mind struggling to focus on the work he was supposed to be accomplishing right now. He'd promised Fog yesterday at the office that he'd help him sift through some more information for a case they'd been working on first thing in the morning, but his mind just couldn't stay on task. Repeatedly he'd had to run his fingers over the letters just to get a couple of them to form words in his mind, but then in mere seconds he'd forgotten what he'd just read.

But how could he focus on work right now with what he was doing later today? The only thing he could think about since the moment he’d woken up and shuffled out of his bedroom this morning was you. Because today was Saturday. It was the day you’d agreed to meet with him for that coffee where you’d planned to have an important conversation with him. And as much as Matt had tried not to let himself hope for too much to come from this talk, he couldn't stop that hope from growing inside of himself. It had been steadily growing brighter and brighter ever since you’d first agreed to meet the other night. 

As his fingers traced the braille letters of the same line on the page yet again, Matt could feel the weight of Foggy’s eyes on him from across his kitchen table. He could tell Foggy had begun to notice his behavior, his increasing annoyance becoming apparent in the way his fingers had been steadily tapping faster against the table in less of an absent fidget and more of an agitated rhythm.

Once more Matt tried to read the line again, retracing his fingers over it as he leaned further over the document, as if getting closer to it would somehow help him to concentrate. But then he found his mind once more diverting from its task, instead thinking of himself sitting with you over coffee in only a matter of hours. Because soon he'd actually be talking to you, hearing your voice again, possibly even the sound of your laughter that he so sorely missed. And if he was lucky, maybe you'd let him hold you in his arms again, even if it was just to say goodbye.

“Alright,” Foggy said in exasperation, slumping back in his chair. “What is it that's got you so distracted? Because I've been here for almost a half an hour now and you haven't even read the page that's been sitting in front of you for just as long. Is it some Daredevil thing that's on your mind? Because buddy, that can wait until later tonight. We have actual legal work to accomplish right now.”

Matt released a defeated sigh, sitting back in his chair and pushing the document away from himself as his attention shifted over to Foggy. He felt guilty for not being able to focus on work–a problem he'd truly struggled with for far longer than just this morning if he was being honest. Ever since he'd learned you were pregnant his mind was often elsewhere.

“It’s nothing to do with that. It's just–I'm meeting with her this morning. To talk over coffee,” Matt told him. 

Foggy suddenly sat up straight in his chair, the annoyance in his body language immediately disappearing. He said your name in question, the tone of it hopeful.

“Yeah,” Matt acknowledged with a nod. “She agreed to talk and that's all I can focus on. I'm sorry, Fog. I just–just can't think about anything else because I don't want to mess this up with her. I doubt she'll give me another chance to sit down with her.”

“I don't know man,” Foggy disagreed. “I think she wants things to work between you both. From what I hear, it sounds like she's just scared.”

Matt pulled a face, his head canting to the side. “Scared?” he repeated. “Scared of what?”

“Of things not working out between you both,” Foggy answered. “I think you both really want the same things. And from what I’ve heard, I think she’s scared you might hurt her again.”

Matt frowned as he shifted his attention away from Foggy, his right hand reaching up to messily run through his hair. He wasn't certain of the truth in everything Foggy had just said. Matt had a feeling that he wanted far more from you than you wanted from him. And that scared him . But he absolutely refused to ever be in a situation to let you down again. He’d learned from his mistake–he would never break a promise to you again.

“So what exactly are you both planning to talk about this morning?” Foggy questioned. “Just the baby? Or…is there talk about you two getting back together?”

Matt's hand ran another pass through his hair in nervous frustration. Of course that's one of the things he’d wanted to discuss with you, but he was certain that particular topic wasn't even on the agenda for this morning. It probably wasn’t even remotely on your mind. It didn’t matter if you’d asked him to hold you in your bed the other night after the scare you’d had because he’d known exactly what that had meant. He was just happy that at the very least, you found his presence comforting still.

“I think we're just talking about me being more involved with the baby,” he answered. “That’s all the talk is about. And don't get me wrong, I'm happy we're even discussing that after the mess I made of things over the past few months. Because I do want to be more involved in things with her and our daughter even if she hasn’t been born yet. But I…”

Matt trailed off, the frown deepening on his lips as his focus dropped down towards the table. He heard Foggy lean forward, resting his elbows along the surface of it as his pulse accelerated in anticipation.

“But what?” he pushed.

Licking his lips nervously, Matt's eyes slowly closed. “I want more,” he admitted aloud. “And I know after how I messed things up that I don't deserve it with her. She's far too good for me, Fog. I get it. But I still want it.”

“Want what, exactly?” he asked. “The relationship?”

“Yes,” Matt answered immediately. “And I still want her to move in with me like we had been planning before everything fell apart and she found out she was pregnant,” Matt confessed, finally bearing his heart to Foggy. “I want her here . I want to set up the crib in our room that’ll be our daughter’s bed. I want them all in that room,” Matt said, gesturing behind Foggy to his bedroom, “where I can sleep next to both of them every single night. Knowing they're both safe with me. And I want to make space in the closet and the dresser for both of their things. I want to accidentally pull out baby pajamas instead of a tie in the mornings.” A sad smile tugged at Matt’s lips as he imagined everything in his mind while he spoke. “I want her to keep that growing stockpile of diaper boxes in her apartment right over there,” he continued, gesturing a hand towards the closet past his couch where he kept his Daredevil suit. “And I want to wake up and make coffee to the sound of a baby babbling.”

Tears were beginning to sting at Matt’s eyes as a flood of emotion began to well inside of him. He'd never realized quite how much he had been wanting until he’d suddenly given voice to it.

“I just want her to be here so that I can make her breakfast in the morning and dinner in the evening,” he continued softly. “I want her here so I can rub her back when she's throwing up or her feet when they're sore after work. I just–”

He paused, wincing. He found himself wanting so much that he never realized he'd even wanted until you had come into his life. But how would he ever be able to have any of that? After how he'd ended things with you and walked out on you when you'd begged him to stay? How did he get you to still move in with him? Let him be a part of your life again? Trust him again?

“I just want it all,” he whispered, fighting back the burn of tears. “But that's not what this talk is about today, and I understand that.”

“You could still tell her,” Foggy suggested gently. “You could still let her know how you feel, Matt. Be open with her about your feelings.”

Matt shook his head, his heart feeling leaden in his chest. “No,” he told him. “I think that's the last thing she wants to hear right now. I can't push my luck, Fog. Maybe someday I can tell her all of that, but I don't think today is that day.”

“I don't know, man,” Foggy countered.

“I can't ask for too much when I don't deserve it,” Matt said. “She needs to know I'm serious first, so that's my focus. I'll take whatever she gives me and show her that I mean it when I say I want to be a part of things. That I’ll really be there when she needs me.”

“For the record, I don’t exactly agree with that route,” Foggy told him. “But if you think telling her how you feel will somehow push her away instead of bring her closer, then I’m not about to argue because you’re obviously not going to listen. I’m just happy to hear that you’re both sitting down together to talk finally. We’re all rooting for the both of you to figure this all out, Matt.”

Matt’s attention focused on Foggy across the table from him. He heard the truth in his words with how steady his heartbeat had been. It felt good to know at least his friends believed in him. But he knew it would feel amazing to finally have you believe in him again, too.

You didn’t have to search hard to find Matt. He’d sent you a text when you’d left your apartment and made your way to the coffee shop letting you know that he’d already arrived early and grabbed a table. And now there he was, sitting in a corner booth with a coffee in front of himself and another across the table from him. A wave of nerves hit you at the sight of him in his dark jeans and snug-fitting gray shirt, your stomach twisting anxiously as the reality of sitting down with him actually hit you. It had been so long since you’d both really sat down together to talk; the only other time had been earlier this week on the night he’d shown up at your apartment because he’d heard your panic. But that had been under entirely different circumstances than this. 

Matt’s head instantly spun in your direction as the door to the shop shut behind you. You figured he’d probably picked up on your strong reaction to seeing him, and that only increased the nerves running loose in your stomach. Beginning to make your way over towards the corner booth where he sat, his covered gaze focused on you, you chewed your bottom lip while awkwardly maneuvering your small bump between the tables and chairs. Briefly you were reminded of your third date at this very coffee shop with Matt. The memory of it had you longing to be able to slide into the booth beside him and wrap your arms around him now, desperate for some of his strength to transfer to you. 

“Hey, Matt,” you greeted lightly, slowly sliding into the bench across from him. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long on me.”

A timid smile spread over his lips as he shook his head. “Not at all. Though I already ordered you a coffee.” His hand gestured to the cup now in front of you. “Vanilla latte, iced. I hope that’s okay. If not, I can grab you something else.”

“No,” you said, a nervous smile forming on your own lips as you shook your head, getting comfortable in the booth. “It’s perfect, actually. Thank you. I’ve been on an iced vanilla latte kick for weeks now.”

The smile on Matt’s mouth turned sheepish as you reached out and picked up the ice cold cup. You drank down a sip of the coffee, reveling in how good it tasted as you watched Matt’s hand awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck.

“So I’ve heard,” he said. “Karen mentioned that the other day actually. I figured it would be a safe bet.”

“Oh,” you said. “That makes sense then.”

Lowering the cup back to the table, you shifted anxiously in your seat. Normally things had never been this tense between you and Matt, but you weren’t certain how to navigate whatever the pair of you were now. You weren’t entirely sure how to just be around him anymore, especially not while currently carrying his child.

“So how’re things at the office?” you asked him.

“Good,” Matt answered. “Busy. There’s a handful of cases that we’re working on and I think we’re all realizing we may have overextended ourselves, but we’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, your finger toying with the condensation on the outside of your plastic cup. “That’s good. How’s uh–” you paused, not certain you were allowed to be asking him something so personal, but the question had already started to come out before you could stop it, “–how’re things going at night? With, well, you know…?”

Matt sent you a small smile, his covered gaze focused on you from across the table. Your eyes dropped back down to your coffee cup, your heart beating a little harder. You forgot the effect he had on you, but with him sitting right there after months apart, you couldn’t entirely ignore it now. 

You missed him.

“Also good,” he answered. “Not quite so busy, but still…busy.”

“Right,” you muttered awkwardly.

How the hell were you supposed to talk about the baby growing inside of you when you could barely look at him to discuss normal pleasantries? It felt so wrong being so awkward with him as you sat across the table. You found yourself struggling with this meeting more than you’d anticipated, wishing things just felt like they used to be between you both.

“How’re you doing?” Matt asked softly.

The gentle tone had caught you off guard, your gaze flitting back up towards his face. He looked just as nervous as you felt. And Matthew Murdock didn’t generally get nervous.

“Do you want the polite response I usually give people?” you half-joked. “Or do you want the honest answer to that question?”

“The honest one,” he replied.

“Well,” you began, your gaze dropping back down to your coffee cup, “I’m tired all the time. I’ve probably finally reached your level of tired.” 

You paused, smiling down at your cup when you heard him laugh lightly across the table from you. The sound had a warm, pleasant sensation gradually settling in your stomach.

“I almost always have a headache I can never seem to get rid of,” you continued. “I’m guessing that’s something to do with the hormones and increased blood flow. And I feel like my lower back has a personal vendetta against me as of late.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, amusement in his tone. “How’s the nausea?”

You shrugged a shoulder, your eyes once more returning to his face. Internally you cursed him for being so handsome. It only made you long to grab him and kiss him like you used to be able to. Clearing your throat, you tried to ignore that thought.

“Better,” you answered. “Not magically gone like I somehow assumed it would be once I got out of the first trimester, but I don’t want to vomit all the time. Though uh–” 

You paused as a grin spread over your mouth, noticing how it was quickly mirrored on Matt’s face as his head tilted curiously to the side. That flutter of warmth in your stomach felt like it was steadily heating you from the inside at the sight of it.

“What?” he pressed curiously.

“So when you’re pregnant,” you began, the grin remaining on your lips, “your sense of smell heightens. Also because of the hormones, I assume. But I’d wanted to tell you about that little symptom the moment I started experiencing it because I figured if anyone else would understand how gross passing a dumpster smells, it’d be you.”

“You’re certainly not wrong,” he agreed with a chuckle.

“And that symptom hasn’t exactly disappeared yet,” you told him, your grin having grown into a smile. “So some things still make me want to puke. Particularly the smell of bell peppers for some unknown reason.”

“Duly noted. I’ll make sure not to bring any near you,” Matt teased. “But I’ve read that ginger helps–”

You raised a hand, cutting him off and shaking your head as you pulled a face. Matt’s brows furrowed beneath his dark lenses, his mouth suddenly closing.

“Sorry,” you said, your stomach churning. “It’s just that I tried using those hard candies they make for morning sickness so much that the ‘g’ word now makes me immediately want to puke. They’ve had the reverse effect on me.”

“Oh,” he breathed out, the smile falling from his lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“That’s alright,” you assured him, picking up the cup of coffee from in front of you again. “I didn’t expect you to.”

That uncomfortable, awkward silence fell over the pair of you again. You took a sip from your cup, watching as Matt’s left hand on the table began anxiously tapping along it. Swallowing down your drink, you supposed you should probably discuss the real reason you were both here.

“So uh,” you began, clearing your throat as you set the coffee cup back onto the table, “we should probably talk about the baby.”

Matt nodded, a tense smile now drawing itself across his lips. As if he was nervous about this topic of conversation.

“You were saying the other night that you wanted to be more involved?” you asked. 

“Yes,” he answered earnestly. “If that’s alright with you, of course. I know she’s not exactly here yet, but I’d like to be as a part of things as I can be.”

Eyes dropping back down to your coffee cup, your index finger smeared a drop of condensation along the side of it. There was a heaviness in the air between you both, one you didn’t need Matt’s senses to detect.

“How involved?” you asked softly. “You want updates if something is going on or…do you want to actually attend appointments with me?”

Matt perked up in the booth across from you, the movement drawing your attention back over to him. He was sitting a little straighter now, something hopeful written across the features of his face even with his glasses on. 

“Would that be alright?” he asked. “If I wanted to go to some of your appointments with you?”

“I suppose so,” you answered slowly. “But I don’t know how interesting they’d be for you. Unlike the rest of us, you don’t need technology to hear her heartbeat. I’m assuming you’ve already been listening to her since I got here.”

Another sheepish smile slipped onto his lips. “You wouldn’t be wrong,” he admitted. “I’ve grown quite fond of the sound of her heartbeat. Especially hearing it beating so close to your own.”

A flush crept up your neck, your gaze dropping back down to your coffee as one hand nervously began spinning your cup on the table. You hadn’t expected him to tell you that, or for how it made you feel. 

“I have an appointment in a couple of weeks,” you told him, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. “I can let you know the details when it gets closer if you’d like to come with me.”

“I’d like that,” he replied. “A lot, actually.”

Nervously gnawing on your bottom lip, your gaze still averted from him, you weren’t sure how to broach the next thing you’d considered bringing up. Matt had wanted to be more involved, but how much more did he truly mean? 

“So you also said that you wanted to be around when I didn’t necessarily need you,” you began carefully, your eyes slowly drawing back up to his face. “What’d you mean by that exactly?”

You saw the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his finger tapping faster atop the table. His other hand reached up to readjust his glasses along the bridge of his nose before he spoke.

“I know we’re not together,” he answered slowly, “but I’d like to spend time together. With both of you. If that’s okay? Not–not all the time. Like I said, I know we’re not together and I’m not going to delude myself into thinking things are other than what they are right now. But I’d like to help you out if I could. Cooking or cleaning occasionally so you can just rest. Grabbing groceries if you need. Anything like that.”

“You…really want that?” you asked, eyes narrowing curiously. “Especially with how busy you are?”

“I want to help,” he assured you.

You nodded slowly, aware that having him around you more often would only make you miss him more. But if things were ever going to progress back to how they once were between you two, you figured this was a good first step to reaching that.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His dark brows jumped up onto his forehead in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you answered. “If we’re going to figure this parenting thing out together, I suppose we should start figuring it out before she’s born. Right? It only makes sense.”

A broad smile broke out across Matt’s face immediately. The sight of it nearly blinded you with how happy he’d suddenly looked. 

“You mean that?” he asked. “About doing this together–raising her together? Do you really mean that?”

“With how much you clearly seem to want to be a part of this,” you told him, “it seems cruel not to try to see if things can work out. So yeah. I think we should focus on taking small steps towards that and see if things can actually work out eventually so we aren’t just…co-parenting.”

There was a faint tremble to his lips that you’d just barely caught despite that beaming smile on his face. The sight instantly reminded you of the other night when he’d asked for permission to feel your baby bump. He’d gotten so emotional the moment he’d felt your daughter move and experiencing that with him had felt special in a way that you couldn’t exactly describe. You just knew that after that moment, you didn’t want to keep any more of those experiences from him. Not if he was truly going to give you and your daughter all of himself.

“Plus, I could use help thinking of a name,” you added with a small smile. “She’s not just mine, after all.”

Matt sniffled softly, his lips still faintly trembling. He almost seemed to be on the verge of crying, and you wondered if he wasn’t wearing the glasses right now, if you’d have seen his eyes rimmed in red and filled with tears.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his hand sliding across the table towards you. “For giving me this chance despite everything.”

Your eyes dropped down to his outstretched hand, studying it for a moment. You knew what that hand meant beyond the obvious gesture. Hesitantly your right hand released your coffee cup and slowly slid across the table towards Matt’s. Carefully you wrapped your fingers around his, your heart beating a little faster when his gripped yours in return.

“She deserves both of us,” you whispered. “As long as we can find a way to make this work.”

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[cherubmm]

✖🔪 ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ON MY.Knees࿐ྂ

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━FEATURING: CROSS.sans

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━CONTENT WARNING: Yandere in general. Soft yandere. Obsessive & Possessive behavior. Unhealthy attachment. Implied neglectful behavior. Established relationship. Delusional mindset. Vague hint of worshipping behavior. Subtly implied abandoment issue. Violence mention. Implied submissive behavior. ANGST. Stalking. OOC. Not proof-read (I got lazy near the end if you can tell)

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━PROMPT BY : oozgin

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why am I keep messing up!?!!?😭😭😭😭 I'm merely editing this on my scheduled post but then it keeps publishing????? Huh?????? Why does the Tumblr keep doing this to me😭😭😭 this is supposed to be for Oct.13!!! But *sigh* whatever, its already here. Enjoy the early treat, again >:(( Hope this won't happen' to another one fic for 14.... Tumblr fuck you :(((

It wasn’t often for Cross to come home.

Well, at least, not anymore. He’d leave before the sun rose, returning long after it set. You used to wait for him, staying up into the late hours of the night, but now? You barely bothered. He’d stumble through the door, mumbling something vague before disappearing into the bedroom or onto the couch without so much as a glance your way.

You understood—you really did. Cross was busy, whatever his job was, it demanded a lot from him. He hadn’t exactly shared the details, and you’d stopped asking after the first dozen times he dodged the question. But no matter how much you tried to rationalize it, it was starting to gnaw at you.

At first, it was just a pang of sadness. Then it became annoyance, maybe even anger. You weren’t one of those cliché lovers who needed constant attention—far from it, actually. You valued your independence, enjoyed your solitude. But this was beginning to feel less like space and more of a...neglect.

He was your lover, wasn’t he? You were supposed to be partners, but lately, it felt like you were the only one holding onto that thread. Every time he came home, he avoided you. No more soft conversations over breakfast, no stolen moments in the afternoon. Just excuses, avoidance, and silence.

The worst part was, you’d started to get used to it. Slowly, your love for him had dimmed, like a flame starved of oxygen. You found yourself becoming comfortable in your own company again, just as you had before Cross ever came into your life. It wasn’t a sudden fall out of love—it was gradual, quiet and subtle. You no longer saw him as your lover, just someone who passed through your life occasionally—acquaintance.

Eventually, you couldn’t do it anymore. The words weighed heavy on your tongue as you prepared yourself, sitting at the edge of the bed. Cross had just come home, dragging his feet, knives still strapped to his side. You waited until he was settled, cleaning his weapons at the table.

“Im breaking up with you.”

...

Cross always thought he was the luckiest skeleton in the entire multiverse.

Of all the infinite versions of himself—sometime's even far, far, better than him—of all the different timelines and universes, he was the one who had found you. He was the one who had you by his side, as beautiful and perfect as you were.

Not even the original version of him—the one from the timeline he could never go back to—had what he did. and that made him feel so special.

Even now, as he wiped the blood from his knives, his mind was filled with thoughts of you. He knew he wasn’t home nearly as much as he should be. Every time he left, there was a pang of guilt that dug deep into his bones. He hated leaving you behind, but what choice does he have? His boss wouldn’t hesitate to come after you if he comes to the conclusion that cross was 'slacking off'' of his work due to his lover. Hell, it was merely a stroke of luck that nightmare decided to not only keep you alive and well, but also provide protection —unbeknownst to you— even knowing his distaste for 'distraction' that attaches to those on his side.

This, of course, was a constant weight on his mind — a sense of indebted. Forcing him to swore his loyalty and obedience to the latter even againts his will. But at least, while he was out there doing Nightmare’s dirty work, you were safe, and that's all that ever matters.

While he couldn’t spend time with you like he wanted to, he could make sure nothing— absolutely nothing—harmed you. The Star Sanses? No threat. Any danger from outside your universe? He handled it.

And on the rare nights he did return? When you were already asleep? Those were slowly becoming his favorite moments. Cross would sit at the edge of the bed or crouch beside you, watching you sleep peacefully. He’d run his fingers through your hair, brushing your cheek, whispering softly to your unconscious form. Confessions of love, of guilt. He’d wish for a world where the two of you could just live a domestic, quiet life—where he didn’t have to kill for survival or settle in the constant state of paranoia— again.

He didn't want the history to repeat itself ever again now that you're here. God, he couldn't even imagine what will happen to him if you're no longer on his side to keep him sane.

But alas, he couldn’t give you that, yet. So, he settled on making you safe instead, hoping you’d understand one day.

...

"Im breaking up with you."

The sound of sharpening knives stopped abruptly. Cross froze, his back still turned to you, as if your words had doused him in cold water. Slowly—almost mechanically—he turned his skull in your direction, his pinprick eye shrinking to a tiny dot before flickering in and out like a dying lightbulb. There was something unsettling about the way he stared at you. For a brief second, his usual stoic expression faltered, a flash of... something. Confusion? Betrayal? Fear? But then, he laughed nervously, trying to play it off as a joke.

"Hahaha... t-that’s a good one, darling. You almost caught me,” he stammered, his grin unnaturally wider than the usual as he tried to shake off the tension.

"I’m not joking, Sans,” you replied, your voice steady despite the unease creeping into your gut.

Y-yeah, sure, whatever you say.” He turned back to his knives, trying to focus on his task, but his hands phalanges trembled.

“Sans, listen to me. I wasn’t—”

CRRK!!

The dagger in his hands broke in half as Cross shot to his feet, staring at the shattered blade as if it had betrayed him. His breathing grew uneven as he slowly turned toward you again, his eye flickering with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite place.

“Why?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper as he took a hesitant step forward. You took a step back instinctively. "Why are you saying this...?"

You tried to explain, though the words didn’t come easily. You told him how you felt—how distant things had become, how lonely you were. How the relationship was falling apart and you both are better off no longer being in each other.

But every time you spoke, Cross took another step forward, his hand reaching out as if to grab onto you, and you found yourself taking another step back.

In a blink, he was in front of you, faster than you could process. Then, there was a small 'ping' sound before you felt yourself flung backward, slamming into the nearest wall that knocked the breath from your lungs. His hands gripped your shoulders, hard enough to hurt, as his face hovered inches from yours.

"Oww-! Sans what the fuck—!?"

His bony hands gripped your shoulders tightly, an anchor that pinned you in place. “Just LISTEN to me first darling. You have to understand—” Tears began to stream from his eye sockets, glistening like pearls against his skeletal face. “I DON'T have a choice” he cried, his voice cracking with desperation. “It’s all for you! To make you safe! Please, you NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT!!”

You tried to pull away, but his hold only tightened.

His knees buckled, and you stumbled as he dragged you down with him, his hands still clinging to you like a lifeline.“No, no, please— reconsider!! I-i’ll try to change, I’ll do whatever you want—I’ll beg, I’ll be on my knees forever, just—please?”

Ⓒ𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐛���𝐦 ──── 10/11/24 Navigation | Masterlist

[coriolantha]

‧˚₊•୨ Patience ୧•‧₊˚⊹

mike schmidt x GN! reader

summary: mike comforts you after you've had a long day₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆୨୧˚

tags: fluff, mike being a sweetheart (as always), anxiety, reader has bad self image, insecurities, reader is overwhelmed and needs a break (so real), hugging, cuddling, comfort

wc: 1.1k

notes: hii this is my first fic i've posted on here. ngl i'm... scared. im not proud of this but i can't scrap it this time otherwise i'm never gonna get anything posted LMAO. please leave any criticism in the comments if you'd like, feel free to share any opinions, i want to improve the quality of my writing! thank you sm for reading! 🫶

today has been punishing.

rain trickled down the foggy window, making soft tapping sounds as they hit and fell, reluctantly racing down to gather in the weep holes. the rough, scratchy carpet beneath you beginning to burn as you shuffled around your desolate home.

exhausted, you gave up trying to distract yourself from your main task; your bedroom.

your eyes darted around your cluttered room, glossing over as you noticed every individual piece of clothing that wasn't hung up, organized, and neatly put away. you began to have a headache thinking about where to even begin. you felt like a filthy slob, your surroundings perfectly reflecting how you've felt all day.

you flicked the lights off, the warmly lit room now becoming pitch black, except for the small gleam of light that came through the open door. you sat on your bed, absentmindedly kicking your various pants and t-shirts away from you to give yourself some room to lay down.

mike wouldn't be back home for a while now. it was only 12:45am, which gave you 5 hours and 25 minutes to attempt to sleep before having to get ready for your office job... which would leave little to no time to spend with mike.

fuck mondays.

turning over to your side, you hugged your knees, shivering. no amount of blankets could fix how cold you felt. the truth was, you missed your boyfriend; longing for his cozy hugs and soft, gentle kisses he'd press against your cheek as he consoled you.

you missed him more than anything in the world.

with a blink, the tears that have been collecting in your eyes came down your flushed face at once. laying there, you accepted your pitiful reality, slowly drifting off into unwanted slumber, in solitude.

the time was around 2am when you felt a dip into the bed. panicking, you quickly awoke, shuffling to sit up as fast as possible. although you didn't know of the time, something felt off. mike wasn't supposed to be home yet, that's for sure.

panic turned into confusion as you heard mike, obviously feeling guilty for having jumpscaring you so badly.

"oh, shit- baby, it's me," he whispered apologetically, reaching his hand out to cup your cheek. turning on the dim lamp, he quickly turned back to face you. his eyes bore into yours, scanning to make sure you were going to be alright.

all day he was desperate to see your face, even after his shorter-than-usual-shift. mike couldn't get enough of your perfection, although you always brushed him off whenever he ever mentioned this to you.

he noticed your terrified expression which started to wear off, beginning to blend into relief.

"it's just me... you don't need to worry about anything, okay? i'm right here, no one's gonna hurt you," he muttered, leaning over to press a chaste kiss on your lips, lingering longer than usual.

weight lifted off your shoulders as you began to put pieces together. now, all you needed was an answer to your burning question.

"mike, why did you come home so early? did something happen?" you asked anxiously, looking right back at your boyfriends affectionate, adoring eyes.

"oh, sweetheart..." he soothed, "i got let out early today. nothing worth worrying about. i guess they didn't need me as much as i thought they did," he let out a quick, dry laugh, shaking his head dismissively.

"fuck, i've missed you all day, i'm so damn glad i could leave that job early. anything to see you, my love," he cooed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, delicately tucking it behind your ear

you were in awe; it was a miracle he came home early, especially today. you were fighting to hold your tears back, mouth quivering as you bit your bottom lip. mike noticed your change in emotion immediately.

"hey hey hey," he whispered urgently, quickly grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze, "what's wrong?" his voice drowned in concern.

"i did nothing all day. the only thing i've done is just stand around and... thought of doing something, but i couldn't. i was so tired, but of what? like, why didn't i clean our room? and the worst part is, you have to come home, tired as hell, ready to go to sleep, only to see your messy room and your partner who still hasn't done anything about it," you quavered, sniffling softly as warm tears fell from your eyes.

mike said nothing, but you could sense how hurt he felt after you talked so badly about yourself. he sighed, laying down on the plush mattress. he patted his chest, inviting you to rest your head there. you did so immediately, closing your eyes as you listened closely to his heart beat.

"you know i love you, right?" he asked gently. you stayed quiet, knowing he wasn't expecting an answer.

"i love everything about about you. but the only thing i don't love is how badly you talk of yourself. i hate it. it doesn't make any sense to me," he stressed, stroking your hair soothingly.

"so what if our room is messy? i don't think about that when i come home. all i think about is how i can finally be with you. i'm not going to let some clothes on the floor get in the way of us, ever. or anything, in fact."

you nodded in agreement silently, your tears dry on your cheeks.

"we can tackle this room together. we can do this however you want- i can pick up your clothes while you organize them into whichever area they go to, and i'll pick up my clothes too, but you won't have to organize that, i'll take care of it. how does that sound?" he asked delicately.

you instantly felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders.

"thank you so much, mike. you don't know how much i needed you today," you exhaled, "really."

he looked down lovingly at you, curled up beside him. he kissed your head tenderly, rubbing up and down your back.

goosebumps spread across your arms. you felt so loved and safe.

"the real question is," you suddenly asked, "how are you so perfect? were you made in a factory or something?"

"says you," he laughed, holding you tighter.

the two of you basked in the love you had for one another for a while. no words were exchanged, only him occasionally rubbing his thumb against your arm, while you began to doze off, which caught his attention.

"want me to turn the light off?"

you nodded, wrapping your arm around his stomach.

he turned over once more, pulling the cord of the lamp light, the room now pitch black.

"i love you," he whispered, turning to his side a little more so he could be pressed closer against you.

"i love you too, mike. always," you mumbled back, the two of you drifting off to sleep.

₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆₊୨୧₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆₊

dividers by @f-loqweres 🫶

[youunravelme]

okay but how does mat propose??? (like a pt. 2 follow up to the wedding cake fic)

omg omg omg a proposal request!! let it be known, i have never been engaged, BUT all my friends got engaged/married last year so i think i'm uniquely qualified (edit: this was started in 2023, you know, when this request was sent. once again, my b). (though this might just turn into my dream proposal bc i'm in love with him).

for those of you who wanna check the part 1 of the wedding cake fic, here it is!

another edit: i wrote this to distract myself from my absolute disdain at scott mayfield.

carry on.

his hands were sweating all day.

which was weird, considering it was february.

but it wasn't weird, given what he had planned. he didn't know if he wanted to scream or throw up. the idea of you becoming his wife surely made him giddy, but it was soured with the slight chance that you might say no. he was supposed to propose before the season started up again, but he was plagued with anxious thoughts.

it's not the right time.

i'm not ready yet.

or the worst one: i don't think i'm that serious about you.

which, in hindsight, wouldn't make sense considering you were already living together and have been for quite some time. you wore his jersey to games, you had conversations about starting a family, you texted his mom and sister more than he did. there was no reason for you to say no.

right?

right?

after he chickened out back in september, mat's new plan was to wait until the bye week to propose. he was going to take you on a vacation to conil de la frontera, spain. he had everything booked and ready.

but then he was drafted for the 2024 all star games.

he could see it in your eyes, you were ecstatic for him to be recognized, but when you took a week and a half off of work, you were planning on packing your bathing suit, not taking a short flight to toronto.

you bore the slight disappointment well, smiling and kissing him and hugging him tightly when he got the news. he beamed when he saw you post about it on your instagram.

he couldn't wait any longer to ask you. your reaction to a change in your vacation plans from something warm to canada in the winter solidified what he was anxious about for months.

you loved him, there as no doubt about it.

you were the most selfless human being he knew.

his teammates had been crucial in the planning process, well, at least their wives were. bo, marty, anders, brock, and clutterbuck had been chirping him since the start of the season when they noticed that your left hand was still devoid of a ring.

"what're you waiting for, barzy?" bo asked after a practice one day. "you found a good one, she'd probably wait forever for you, but why're you making her wait?"

mat shrugged at the time, too embarrassed to admit that despite being one of the best players in the league and having millions to his name, he was terrified that it still wouldn't be enough for you. not that you'd ever demanded more from him, you'd taken him as he was and cheered for him even when he was having the shittiest time of his life.

he could give you the moon and still wouldn't feel like it was enough.

so when mat finally told his teammates about his plan in toronto, they immediately communicated to the wives who were closest to you. sydney, grace, and holly took you out to get your nails done while marty, anders, bo, and mat started researching the most romantic places in toronto on anders' laptop just in case you spontaneously went through mat's search history.

the day was planned, the photographer and necessary tickets were booked, he'd propose at the evergreen brick works after texting auston matthews about cool places to visit while he was in town, (he had to clarify that he didn't care about cool bars, and was looking to bring you along).

you'd been talking nonstop on the plane ride to toronto that you didn't even notice mat was quietly stewing. everything had to be perfect.

it was the very least that you deserved.

the first day in toronto, both of you explored the city by going to coffee shops and restaurants recommended by players and their significant others. when you made it back to your hotel room, your feet were aching.

you fell face first into the bed, whining into the comforter. "my feet hurt," you groaned.

mat laughed from his position leaning against the wall. "i told you to wear better shoes," he said.

"i didn't anticipate you dragging me all over toronto today."

"well, that's what we'll be doing tomorrow too, so prepare yourself."

"mat," you whined, finally flipping over so he could see your pretty face again. you had a cute pout on your lips that he wanted to kiss away. "we're on vacation."

"and you've never been in this city before, you should get to see it." he walked over to where you were and grabbed your hands. "c'mon, let's go take a bath and then we can order room service and spend the rest of the night in bed."

you were quick to agree.

the following day was pretty mundane. but wednesday was the cause of mat's stress.

his phone lit up with texts from his teammates, his parents, liana, tito, and ethan, all wishing him a good luck. the two of you woke up early enough to go to a local cafe and grab breakfast before taking the bus to evergreen brick work.

"you okay?" you asked, placing your hand on his knee to keep it from bouncing anymore.

he thanked whatever possessed him to keep the ring box in his coat pocket on the side that wasn't pressed up against you.

"yeah," he smiled. "just ready to get there."

when the two of you hopped off the bus, you slid your hand into his almost immediately. out of habit, mat tucked you into his side, happy to just have you close. it was a little cold outside, but it was like he couldn't feel it because of your proximity.

"mat!" you tugged on his arm and pointed at one of the signs. "they have ice skating here!" you grinned widely up at him and he couldn't help but smile right back. "we should go!"

"we will," he said. "i wanna do this trail first."

you looked at him funny. "you wanna go on a walk?"

he shrugged, tearing his eyes away from you to focus on the signs in front of him. "auston suggested this place."

"you're asking for a lot of suggestions from auston. it's unlike you..."

"there's no need to be suspcious, babe. i know that you wanted to be in a tropical place for vacation, that was the plan and everything, but since we're here, thought we'd make the most of it."

you scrutinized his face for a moment longer before nodding and pulling yourself closer to him.

after you secured another hot coffee to combat the cold, mat started leading you on the trail. while you were ordering, he was coordinating with the photographer to make sure she was in position.

the trail itself wasn't that long, thankfully because mat couldn't get a word out and if it was any longer, he feared you would've caught on that he was incapable of speaking.

you were still talking about work drama when you got to the lookout point. your voice was taken away by the sight of toronto in the background.

you hadn't always been the most observant person ever, you didn't even know he liked you until he told you verbatim when he couldn't take it anymore.

"oh my god, mat," you gasped. you pointed at the skyline in front of you with the hand that wasn't holding your coffee. "look how pretty it is!"

he swallowed and knelt down on one knee while your back was turned. mat took the ring box out of his jacket pocket, doing his best not to drop it despite how much his hands were shaking.

"have you ever seen anything that--" you whipped back around to look for him. he watched as confusion filled your face when you didn't see him standing behind you, but kneeling in front of you.

"oh my god," you whispered, dropping your coffee on the ground so you could cover your mouth with both hands. "mat what--"

"i love you," he said. "i love the way you squeal at every cute baby that comes across your for you page or the way you cry at the drop of a hat. i love how you celebrate everyone around you. you are the brightest thing in my life and if i quit my job tomorrow, i know my life would still be fucking amazing because i'd have you.

"i know that my schedule is hectic, and you could probably find a man better than me, who was more consistent, who wasn't going to play games or have practices on your birthday, who could take you out of the country for a vacation to somewhere warm instead of dragging you with me to an all star game. but i promise you, i will do whatever it takes to give you the best life possible if you'd let me. i wanna grow old and crinkly with you, i want our kids to have the same last name as both of us. i want to be able to point you out in crowds and tell strangers that i somehow managed to convince you to marry me.

"i have never been more terrified in my life than i am right now," he admitted. "but i have never been more certain of anything i want more in my life than you. so will you have me? will you marry me?"

in the middle of his speech, mat didn't realize when he'd started crying, didn't even notice that you were all but sobbing. he just recognized the scent of your perfume when you lunged towards him and kissed him hard on the mouth, your tears mixing with his.

"yes," you mumbled into his mouth. "oh my god, yes."

mat let out a watery laugh and managed to slip the ring on your finger even though his hands were shaking. you pulled him up to stand and immediately wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him close.

you were sniffling as he pulled you in for another kiss.

"i love you,' he whispered against your lips.

"love you more," you smiled back.

[jackassbrainrot]

nasty new compulsion [dunn x f!reader]

desc: you're a part of the jackass crew. you and ryan are totally just friends ;)

a/n: another ry fic! touchy tease ryan >>>, can't stop writing him and oh my god this is so much longer than I expected it to be I just got sucked into it

warnings: smut, teasing, p in v, unprotected sex

word count: 1129

Being Tremaine's assistant is a pain in the ass, or more accurately, he is. Despite having to listen to him bark out orders the entire day, working on the movie has been fun, especially since meeting Ryan Dunn. He's somehow the most normal of the cast and you two clicked the moment you met. Everyone knew you'd become the best of friends due to Bam's constant bitching about Dunn replacing him. You'd reassure him saying you'd never be as close to Ryan as he was, which was true, but you'd never tell him you were closer in other ways.

You were fumbling with some mics behind a trailer, when you felt Ryan's arms wrap around your waist. He rested his head on your shoulder, his beard scratching your soft skin as he places teasing kisses on your neck. "Aren't you supposed to be filming?" You try to shake him off gently, not wanting to get caught by the others, though you couldn't resist tilting your head to give him more access to your neck. "Mm, no, they're doin' the muscle stimulator thing, they won't be needin' me for a while." You can feel his sly smile against your skin, his lips travelling up your neck to whisper in your ear. "C'mon, I need you."

"Don't say that!" You finally turn around, breaking away from his grip, your voice coming out as a squeak. He chuckles lowly, looking down at you with lust filled eyes as he pushes your body against the trailer. One hand on your waist, the other holding the side of your neck as he kisses down it again, making your breath hitch. The warmth of his body leaves yours suddenly and you look up at him with confusion.

"I mean, if you're not up for it, I guess I'll go join the guys." He's gone before you even get the chance to say anything. You hear Jeff yell your name and you quickly straighten yourself out before getting back to work. For the rest of the day you stare daggers at Dunn, watching him wink at you with a knowing smile across his face.

You're sitting in the passenger seat of Tremaine's car, Knoxville and Kosick in the back, arguing over who knows what. "Hey, Jeff, can you do me a favor?" You ask quietly, trying to keep your conversation far from your other coworkers' ears. "Depends." He replies, suspicion in his voice. "How long do you think you could keep Bam out of his room when we get back to the hotel?" He pauses for a moment before speaking again. "You owe me."

When you get to the hotel, you jump out of the car, smiling at Tremaine before running up the stairs to Dunn and Bam's room. Bam opens the door, a half empty beer bottle hanging from his tattooed hand already. "Jeff told me to come get you." You blurt out before he even gets to say a word and he groans "Now?" He whines, sounding like a teenager whose mom just told him to clean his room. You nod, trying to hide your smile as Ryan steps up behind him. "Go, before he goes all directorzilla on you." Ryan says, earning a groan from the younger man as he walks out of the room. You watch him go down the hallway before Ryan pulls you into his room.

"He's gonna come back in a minute when he realizes Tremaine doesn't actually need him for shit." He says with a smug look on his face, contrasting the hands softly holding your waist. "I asked Jeff to keep him distracted for a bit." A wicked smile spreads over your face as you look up at him, draping your arms around his neck. "Oh, you little minx." He looks down at you, his light eyes dark with lust, as he walks back until his legs hit the bed, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap.

Your lips meet his in a desperate kiss, your hands tangling in his hair. "Aren't you desperate?" He mumbles against your lips as his hands slip under your shirt. "Your fault." You breathe out and he chuckles before unclasping your bra and taking it and your shirt off in one smooth movement.

"Let me make it up to you." He says, flipping you onto your back on the bed. He hovers over you, kissing down your chest as he unbuttons your jeans. You help him take them off and he unhooks the towel hanging around his waist, throwing it across the room. His mouth latches onto your nipple as his fingers rub your clit slowly, making you whine out his name.

Your hand drops down to his hair again, pulling at his golden strands, making him groan. He trails kisses down your torso, sucking a hickey over your hipbone, making you squirm. Going lower, he makes sure to kiss everywhere except your pussy. You let out another whine, trying to push his head down when his movements still, looking up at your desperate expression. "Can't even take a bit of teasing, huh?" He mocks. "I've been taking it the whole day, asshole!" You cry out in frustration.

"Alright, alright." He puts his hands up defensively, kneeling between your legs, wrapping them around his waist. He leans down to kiss you as his dick enters you agonizingly slow, dragging a moan out of your occupied mouth. Your hips buck up but he holds them down, pinning you down on the mattress as he keeps his thrusts slow and deep. "Ry, please, I need you to go faster, please!"

"You need it?" He teases, watching you nod frantically under him. Suddenly you feel yourself getting picked up off the bed as he flips you so you're on top of him. "Take what you need, then." You move your hips at a pace much quicker than his was, holding onto his tattooed arms to keep yourself balanced. His hands roam over your body as he watches you ride him with half lidded eyes.

As you feel your body going taut, tightening around his dick, you lean down to kiss him to silence the scream threatening to slip from your lips. His dick twitches inside you, pushing you over the edge as you moan into his mouth, feeling his cum spill into you. You collapse, falling on his chest.

"I'm not sleeping there, that shit's contaminated!" Bam's scream rings out through the hallway, Knoxville's cackle following right after. Both you and Ryan laugh, lying next to each other, exhausted. "Well, no need to sneak around anymore, huh?" You ask, making him laugh again, before you both fall asleep to the sound of Bam whining about you stealing his best friend and his room.

[rissararity]

Wrote a little fic inspired by this meme. Art is not mine!

Astarion/Half succubus bard oc. Cat calling, references to SA, comfort, friends to lovers, partners in crime, protective Astarion

Might eventually become a more put together fic, if it does it would be a slow burn friends to lovers

“Do we have any other takers? Any more bets? How about you, sir? Betting man?” the gorgeous bard beamed while she played a melody to raise anticipation on her lute.

“You know what? Sure.” The man tossed a couple gold into the pot.

The crowd cheered while Astarion gave a close lipped smile, eye fucking a couple of the women in the group.

A few more coins trickled in, clinking against the others.

“Now watch and be amazed as I throw this dagger, up to the second floor, it bounces handle side down off that, that then that,” he pointed to a couple of things, “and into the center of that barrel.” He announced with a flourish, parading around dramatically.

While he distracted the crowd, the bard cast a little spell to ensure he’d succeed. Astarion felt the power and confidence surge as her spell took effect, making a big show out of throwing the dagger.

While it flew through the air, Liv took the opportunity to pick a few pockets then make her way to the front before the trick shot was over.

As the blade hit home, the crowd was a mix of cheers and jeers.

“Aww better luck next time, friends!” She offered a supportive smile that hid the inward smirk she felt.  She validated a few peoples feelings and casually got each of them to walk away.

The bard scooped up the gold while the rogue retrieved the dagger. They smiled at each other for a moment before quickly and discreetly leaving the area.

To an outsider they’d look like lovers exchanging a look. But they knew they were shit eating grins of victory, and they were in fact not lovers, but 200 gold richer.

Each.

As they reached the end of the alley, they waved to Gale, who stood with his arms crossed. “Again? Really?” he glared, falling into step on Liv’s other side.

“Oh relax, you benefit from the spoils too. Most of this ends up going to potions and gifts for you.” The half elf snickered, purposely hip bumping him.

The wizard’s glare softened and he ducked his head. “I suppose that’s true. But if you two get caught, you’re on your own.”

The elves smirked at each other, “Somehow I think we’ll manage.” Astarion turned his ruby gaze to Gale who rolled his own.

The men grew uneasy while the trio walked by a group of men who began to whisper after them, staring at Liv in particular. The vampire could have torn their heads off with his bare hands for the disgusting way they spoke about her.

Gale glared back at them, putting an arm around her shoulders protectively. “Honestly, Liv, we can’t take you anywhere civilized.”

“I’d hardly call this place…much less those meat sacks civilized.” Astarion agreed, now wishing he’d been the one to grab her first.

“I’m not doing anything on purpose.” She muttered, dropping her chin.

“Boo hoo, it must be so hard being effortlessly gorgeous.”  The vampire rolled his eyes.

“When I cant go anywhere alone without being hassled, propositioned or having wives threaten me for stealing their husband’s eyes-“ “And hearts.” Gale added.

“Right. A few of them did say that.” She pouted, “I know I can more than take care of myself but I get so…” she crossed her arms over her ample chest and shivered with a frown.

The group had noticed fairly early on she seemed fairly oblivious to the leers she got everywhere she went, and that  when she no longer was, the attention made her extremely uncomfortable.

She could flirt her way out of trouble no problem but was easily flustered and nervous if a man just started commenting on her body. It made a pit form in her stomach that stayed until someone else from her party found her.

Even Shadowheart had played the role to make the men think they had no chance.

She sighed, “And Astarion,” he looked at her. “You sound jealous when you say stuff like that. You’re too pretty to be jealous.”

Gale smirked as the vampire’s jaw dropped for a moment, blinking in surprise “I…er..um..you’re absolutely right.” He pushed his hair from his face and shook out his shoulders, “You passed the test.”

Liv rolled her eyes while the wizard shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

Red eyes grew annoyed as he saw this, prompting him to cross his arms and pout, “I’ll meet you back at camp.” He strode of into the masses of people on the street.

The pair laughed, keeping their leisurely pace.

“He adores you,  you know.”  Gale told her once their laughs became little giggles.

Her cheeks grew dark, “No, he would have made a move by now if he did. We’re just good friends.”

He arched an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

She mimicked him, raising her own and dropping her voice, “Yes, that is so.”

The wizard made a face, “You’re too good at that.”

Wind whipped her long blonde hair around while carrying her laugh.  “What can I say? I give a performance like no other.”

Liv yelped as a hand seized her elbow. “I bet you do, babe. Why don’t you come with me and give a private show?”

Her entire body froze as ice set in, eyes wide with fear as her legs stopped moving.

“I’m going to give you one chance to let go of the lady and be on your way.” Gale’s voice dripped with venom in a way she’d only ever heard in situations like this.

The barbarian sized him up then laughed, yanking her arm confidently, causing her to stumble closer. “Fuck off, mate. If you can’t defend your woman, don’t bring her outside.”

They couldnt go throwing magic in the middle of town, the creep knew that.

What he didn’t expect,  was Gale to cast a hold person spell, locking him into place.

He then gently unfurled the man’s fingers from Liv’s arm and put a protective arm around her waist. “You need to learn some manners. Best hope we don’t ever meet in a battlefield.”

The man’s eyes burned with rage as Gale pressed a kiss to the still shocked bard’s temple and led them back into the crowd.

She pressed herself into her companion’s side all the way back to camp, trying to match his breathing the entire way.

No one knew what caused this reaction in her, but they had an idea. None dared broach the subject and figured talk if and when she wanted.

Normally in battle, she was fearless and thoughtful. But when confronted with someone like that barbarian she locked up.

When they returned to camp, Astarion had already thought up a snappy quip-the perfect amount of sting and sass.

Unfortunately,  it died in his throat as soon as he looked over at them. One look and he knew.

Gale was softly rubbing her forearm, reassuring her while he led her to his tent.

The vampire frowned and exchanged a look with the wizard on the way.  He immediately regretted his hasty exit earlier. He noticed pursuers were more easily deterred when she was with more than one man.

Astarion silently crept over to listen, able to hear their magic friend leading her through breathing exercises. When she’d calmed down, Gale finally left the tent to get some dinner.

He was about to stand only for Shadowheart to beat him to it, heading toward Gale’s tent to comfort the half elf.

 Annoyed as he was, he knew for Liv’s sake that only one person could be with her at a time.

Much to his dismay, she stayed for an entire hour and a half.

He started to head over only to stop in his tracks when the tent door moved and Liv emerged, looking tired but otherwise okay other than her red cheeks and the fact that she used a spell to change her appearance to the one she preferred-the one that more clearly showed her half-drow ancestry.

Her skin kept its pink hue but her hair shortened to a pixie cut, blonde at the root morphing into silver tips that sat perfectly in place. Her blue eyes shifted to one bright blue and one silver. A ring sat in her septum above her lips that wore a coat of black paint, matching her winged eyeliner and eyeshadow.

Her pointed ears were dotted with two in her cartilage on both sides, and a silver ring on the lobe. She bore tattoos of solid black up her throat with flame-like tendrils licking at her jaw, a small flame adorning her forhead.

This was who she preferred to be. Who she felt the strongest,  and most confident as. It was also her defense.

The others knew not to be surprised or comment on what she decided to look like that day. The long blonde look was always used for public performances; it had even earned her the title “The Angel” by word of mouth.

Astarion thought she was perfect both ways, but he knew the other men liked The Angel, while Shadowheart and Karlach shared his adoration of who he dubbed the demoness, the little devil, and simply the drow.

She hadn’t noticed him,  and headed for her bedroll by the fire.

Astarion’s chest tightened as he realized he was too late to comfort her. If he hadn’t ditched her this probably wouldn’t have happened. They’d be sitting around the fire while she played her lute and told them legends and stories.

He should have stayed. This was his fault.

He should have stayed.

Jaw clenched,  he thought, I’ll never abandon you again, my angel. You have my word I will remain close at hand.

What he couldn’t see, was her small smile as their tadpoles relayed the message in his voice.

In fact, he'd been so distracted that all his thoughts of guilt and protectiveness were made privy to the blonde.

He didn’t know it, but they grew closer that night without him ever speaking a word.

--

The following morning when they returned to the little town of Hodge to continue their search for information. Gale noticed Liv go out of her way to insure they passed by the same intersection from last night.

It was fairly early and the roads were fairly clear,  blue sky above them.

As they neared it, Gale stepped forward and took her hand. To everyone’s surprise, she turned her blue and silver gaze to Astarion and held her other hand out to him.

Shadowheart pouted as the visibly confused vampire somewhat hesitantly took her hand and walked on her other side.

Liv squeezed both of their hands as they strode down the road like they owned it. When they got to the next street, she pressed a kiss to the back of Astarion’s hand and gave him a grateful look before letting go and repeating the gesture with Gale.

The vampire blinked in surprise as an odd fluttering feeling danced in his stomach, Gale’s cheeks darkened a little as he returned her smile.

He followed her blindly like they were magnetized, eyes wide as he tried to make heads or tails of this feeling.

Her still short hair shined like silver in the sun, contrasting the warm, sunny light from the blonde near her scalp. Even painted with dark makeup, she was breath taking-silver septum ring glinting back at him a top her confident smile.

Especially when she was exuding confidence like she now was, leading them through the streets to their first contact.

Her rapier carefully tucked into her overcoat, lute strapped to her back, she walked through intersection exuding joy once again.

Astarion’s maroon eyes stayed locked on her profile while he continued to remain at her side. Gale went to talk to Karlach, leaving the two side by side leading the group.

The vampire's eyes flicked down to her hand, yearning to hold it again; to feel her soft, dainty hands in his calloused but well manicured ones.

The butterflies in his stomach hadn’t quite settled down yet-he’d heard some young women gossiping recently and learned that’s what it was called.

Though if it meant what they insinuated it did he refused to believe that was what was happening to him.  

He supposed Liv was pretty enough…oh who was he kidding?  They didn’t call her The Angel  for nothing. She was beauty incarnate, in both of her forms. Her movements were naturally elegant and graceful, her acrobatics during battle were unreal.

Everywhere she went an air of lavender and vanilla followed. You couldn’t be in a bad mood when she was around-he would know. He tried.

She was exactly what Cazador would have sent him after.

At that, he looked away from her shamefully. He didn’t deserve to walk beside her, figuratively or literally. His steps slowed so he could merge with the others but this stopped when her hand brushed the back of his – making his breath catch for a moment as sparks shot up his arm.

She caught his eye and winked, a small smile on her soft lips.  “Walk with me, Astar.”

He was about to scold her for the nickname but for some reason from her he didn’t mind it.

“Gale holds your arm through town.” He murmured quietly as they walked.

Her cheeks darkened, “So he does.”

“It’s only fair-rr- I mean….proper.” He collected himself. “It’s only proper that a lady gets escorted.” He raised his chin, keeping his eyes ahead.

“Of course.”

“After all, you tend to get sidetracked and lost.”

“Sounds like me.”

“Hells forbid you see a cat!”

A  little annoyed now, she glared, “Are you gonna do it or what?”

“Of course I am, don’t be stupid!” Came his rushed reply just before he almost aggressively looped arms with her like Gale often did.

Behind them, the entire team silently laughed. Gale crossed his arms over his chest, batting away Shadowheart to pretended to try and loop arms with him. He turned away from her and glared playfully before pushing her into Karlach who caught her then gave her arm a reassuring pat before going back to minding her business.

Astarion glared venomously at any one that looked at them too long, thankfully only a few people due to her still being in little demon form. He felt like her bodyguard, and as such had to be the scary dog that made outsiders keep their distance.

And unlike most bodyguards,  he actually HAD bite.

Meanwhile, Liv was blissfully unaware of the mission he’d given himself, waltzing down the street casually.

When they arrived at their agreed upon meeting place, Liv wanted to go in alone but the entire group was quick to shut that down.

“Just in and out-it’ll be quick. Everyone leaves happy, no big deal.”

Astarion’s lips quirked up in a grin while he held his laughter, little sounds sneaking out. Karlach immediately began to belly laugh, drawing the attention of a few townspeople. Gale sighed and shook his head while the bard looked at him oddly.

“Sweet summer child.” He pressed a patronly kiss to her temple and hugged her cheek to his chest for a moment.

With knit brows, she let him hold her for a moment. “Anyway, any alternative plans then?”

“Well, you aren’t allowed to go anywhere alone so write that down.” The vampire rolled his eyes, missing her little smile.

“Our best bet here is to not arouse suspicion, and to appear as normal as possible to blend in. I think Liv and I should go in together,  since we look the most like the locals." The wizard spoke up.

“Human, you mean?” Shadowheart asked, crossing her arms at the other half-elf.

“And not head to toe in armor. Not exactly common garb in these parts.”

She relented, “Liv and I could go. Two women won’t look odd and I’m sure she has an outfit I can borrow.”

Gale gave a snappy retort, angering the Cleric. They bickered over who was going in with Liv until Karlach  physically turned their heads to show them Astarion had already whisked her away and toward little café, both in all their silver headed glory.

After casting an apologetic look over her shoulder, she spoke “You didn’t ask me to put on the angel.”

He paused, “I’ll never ask you  to change, darling. However you feel best is how I want you.”

She squeezed his arm, smiling up at him while he avoided her gaze.

Luckily everything went according to plan for once and they got another lead.

Before they returned to their team, waiting in the distance in the town square, they decided to slip out the back door  to see if they could make a few extra coins.

Liv put on the angel to aid in the con on her own accord, excitement in her stomach as she and Astarion approached a small group of people already with a game in progress.

---

“Where is she? I need to see her.” Astarion pushed past Shadowheart and headed toward Wyll’s tent.

“She’s going to live. Don’t interrupt her healing session. It’s…private.” She trailed after him, wishing Wyll hadn’t taken some personal time away so he could cast a hold spell.

Ordinarily  Shadowheart was stronger than Astarion, but now he was in a protective rage, eyes blazing like a wildfire as he sought his little devil.

This fueled him to overpower her, tugging free of her grip and delivering a sharp shove that sent her on her ass, blinking in shock.

He entered the bubble of silence cast around Gale’s tent and froze as he recognized the sounds of lust and sex, as well as the all to familiar scents that went along with it.

His blood ran cold as he hid and peaked in. He knew what to expect but was still aghast when he saw Gale on top of Liv.

Liv’s nude body was dotted with scrapes and bruises from their last fight, her head lulled to the side, eyes half open. She didn’t react much to the wizards deliberate, confident thrusts, her breasts bounced in recoil to punctuate each one.

Gale bit his lip, brows knit as he began to speed up. Liv's shallow breaths along with a few gasps softly joined the other sounds.

Astarion felt rage like never before and had the biggest urge to reach straight through Gale’s back and pull out his still beating heart.

But he knew that was a bad idea.

Liv’s head turned to the other side and she accidently met the vampire’s eyes, her own going from half lidded to wide, cheeks ablaze.

Feeling much like a scorned lover,  though not sure why, he silently sneered at her and left.

--

The following morning, the air was tense between the two troublemakers-Astarion and Liv.

Gale hadn’t noticed him, and she hadn’t told him.

She avoided her rogue as much as possible without drawing attention, seeking a distraction.

Otherwise back to her normal self, she pulled her violin from her bag of holding  and began to play an upbeat jig, a smile on her face as she watched Karlach and Wyll prepare breakfast.

Gale and Shadowheart clapped in time with the music, smiling and enjoying the morning.

His eyes narrowed at Gale as he approached, considering how he could catch the wizard’s robe on fire, stopping short to watch the end of the song.

Liv hesitated a bit upon seeing him, but being the professional she is, she didn’t let it hiccup the song. Gale noticed the jovial mood in her eyes dulled, and used his tadpole to connect to the vampire -immediately realizing what had happened.

The bard finished the song with a flourish of her bow then bowed for the applause  that came from everyone that didn’t drink blood.

Gale connected to Liv for a moment to see if she knew, appreciating that she told him the truth and didn’t make him search her memory.

I think it’s time to tell him, Angel. He’s the only one that doesn’t know and he’s clearly upset.

She sighed, I have to, now. We can’t keep going like this.

He gave a short nod, then made an excuse about wanting to show Liv how to feel the weave so they could both go into the woods together.

They were correct in assuming Astarion’s jealousy would have him tailing them.

Once they were away from camp, his body froze mid-step as Gale cast a hold person spell on him.

The pair turned around and headed over to him, ignoring the slew of curse words falling from his fangs.

“What in the hells do you think you’re doing?!” He growled at last.

“We need to talk- and by that I mean you need to listen. We can’t have you attacking Gale or running off before we explain.”

He glared at her, inwardly annoyed that the passing breeze carried over her lavender scent.

“I’m not sure what I saw other than the two of you acting like a couple of randy teenagers.”

Liv crossed her arms, nodding, “That’s exactly why you’re stuck right now.”

Gale’s lip quirked up for a moment at her flat tone before he spoke, “That’s all you saw? Are you absolutely sure there was nothing else of note?”

“Gale, darling, I’m not going to comment on the size of your staff if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

The wizard blinked in shock, blushing,  “No! No that’s not what I meant.”

Standing slightly behind him, Liv giggled, cutting herself off when Astarian glared at her again.

“Think back. Really think-I’ll even help you.” She cast a focus spell on him while he huffed and closed his eyes.

His mind’s eye took him back Gale’s tent, his eyes glued to the scene before him. Liv looked exhausted from their last battle. Her body was scraped and bruised here and there and bags sat under her eyes.

Her baby blues lacked the spark they usually held.

The vampire knit his brows, growling at the other man. “Did you do something to her?”

Gale’s jaw dropped, Liv spoke up and vehemently denied it.

“It’s not like that either. I look right as rain today, right?” she gestured to her face- bright and clear as always.

He nodded.

“You know I’m a half elf, right?”

“Of course. Drow-correct?”

Liv smiled, happy he remembered that given her normal, warm and sunny appearance. “Right. Well…it turns out…the other half wasn’t human.”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed Liv is much more adept at magic than a normal bard…hells I’ve been trying to convince her to let me train her as a spellcaster…”

She rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, the other half…my father…was an incubus. So…I’m half elf half-“

“Succubus.” Astarion sneered, “It all makes sense now. The power you hold over others with the simple toss of your hair.”

They waited to see what he would say next, giving him a moment to think.

“That’s why you look so much better than you did…last night.”

She nodded, “I seem to have an odd mix of traits and abilities. My little demon appearance can’t be washed away by any manor of magic because it’s still real. When I take after my father, I become the angel. But my mother was the drow.”

“It doesn’t trigger my detect magic ability either.” Gale added, “Because of her half succubus nature, every week or so she needs to be…reset, or she gets sickly and weak.”

“That’s why she’s gotten so much stronger since the began traveling together.”

Liv blushed and shuffled her feet, “Look, I’m really not as smooth as I pretend to be-its an act.”

The vampire was quiet for a long while, “So when you say you cant sleep alone-“

The half elf gasped, “Not every night! God’s Astarion I’m not an animal! Gale told you…once a week. I try to hold out for as long as I can though…” she looked down, “I know it’s a big ask. More often than not I just need to cuddle.”

Gale patted her shoulder, a kind smile on his lips. “I assure you it’s no toil for us. I admit it can be difficult when you’re…in rough shape but knowing it’s the best way we can help you-“

“Mmmhm nothing to do with the fact that you get to have sex with her, I’m sure.” The vampire cut him off, winking when he was done.

The wizard’s warm brown eyes widened, cheeks darkening-it was certainly not a chore, but an honor.

Liv quirked an eyebrow at him, stifling a laugh and trying to force the corner of her mouth down.

Astarion relaxed as he watched her reaction to this. His jealousy faded as he realized for Gale, and hopefully Wyll, this was a friends with benefits situation, not a romantic relationship.

“Oh do let me go now. I’m listening.”

After a nod from Liv, Gale released the hold spell.

Astarion straightened himself and pushed his hair back, shaking off the stiffness. “The girls were already aware, I’m assuming?”

Liv nodded. “Unfortunately, my succubus healing only seems to kick in with men. I guess I need a…bridge to transfer.”

“You had sex with Shadowheart?”

Gale raised an eyebrow, “You tried to.”

“Well yes, but for a different reason. It’s not the same.”

“If anything, my reason is better than yours.” Liv glared.

He tilted his head, “Is it? Who’s to say? Besides, it only makes sense to gather as many…potential healers as possible and keep one on hand at all times. It was smart of you to try, since the two of you normally pair up when we split.”

Silence for a beat.

"Though I must tell you, I thought we were closer than this, little angel.” He turned to her. “Why was I the only one left unaware of your…condition? Did you not want my…” he gestured to his body, “help.”

Gale turned to her, too, curious.

The bard blushed, keeping her eyes on the ground. “We've always been great friends and I didn’t want to risk making it weird.”

“So you didn’t think it weird to proposition your companions weekly to steal their energy when they orgasm?”

Silence.

“It's really not bad. One sip of a health potion and you're back to rights.” Gale defended her.

“Alright, well,” he approached Liv, who shyly looked up. “This doesn’t change anything between us, darling, not if you don’t want it to.” He tilted her chin with one finger. “But if you decide you do, I assure you I’m more than capable of not treating you any differently if we slept together; dearest friend of mine.”

Her cheeks blazed, lips parting in shock. Gale rolled his eyes and looked away while the two had a moment.

He knew his friendship with Liv was clearly different than whatever it was she had with Astarion, so hearing her admit that hadn’t stung like one might expect. It was no secret the two had more in common, more laughs and a knack for getting in and out of trouble.

Gale, as well as Wyll, knew what this was.

Giving the half elf a wink, Astarion turned around and headed back toward camp.

She didn't ask for his help yet, but he hoped she would.

And when she did he would be whatever she wanted him to be; a simple friend with benefits due to a caring heart and sense of obligation or...maybe...

Well he wasn't sure but he was looking forward to her helping him find that out.

[swiftsaltsweet]

Two Knives Interlude 1: Rangi- Damn

Characters: Rangi and Kyoshi (RoK characters tbh)

Pairing: Rangshi

Rating: M

Summary:

Things have been stressful for Kyoshi. First, she sang a poem and now the whole kitchen staff thinks it’s about Rangi, and is sure that there will be gossip. Then, Yun asks her to join him for the Fifth Nation treaty signing. Now Rangi’s acting strange. It’s becoming a bit much for Kyoshi’s small corner of the world.

(Canon Divergent AU- Kelsang wasn’t the one who heard the poem?….aka What if it took longer for them to realize Kyoshi was the Avatar?)

Other Sites: AO3 

A/N: (Future me edit: Phew! Glad you guys seemed to like the little twist at the end, was a little nervous ngl TT0TT Also YAY! I CAN FINALLY START SHARING THE RANGI CHAPTERS! *sobs* so excited and haha oh man now I’m nervous akfjskfdaj)

(back to past me:) Heyyyyyy it’s POV switch time, just like The Hunt For Kyoshi’s: The Hunter and The Hunted chapters :’D

I only had this POV flip planned so………u_u but hey! It’s like 3 chapters worth in one chapter so :’D Wait…3 chapters….. *looks at the length of this chapter vs the others* Oh someone save meeeeeee TT0TT Haha this is gonna be a long chapter-Oh wait I’m getting a call. Ahuh. Hmm. Yup… 27 pages????......AND YOU AREN’T DONE……. THREE CHAPTERS AND NOT ONE?! Ok We’re splitting this into three chapters sorry. :’D

I underestimated how much Rangi yaps. u_u Pining more than a damn pine tree.

Me from the future (again): *stumbles in* Heyyyyy-o. Oh boi. Um….yes. So….THIS chapter was supposed to be chapter 4, but then I changed it. :’D So like….just remember how these were written/structured: Kyoshi’s first 3 chapters, and then Rangi’s first three chapters, then chapters 4-6, then Rangi’s 4th chapter (that 4th chapter wasn’t originally going to exist too jaklfjds. Man this fic has been shuffled about more than a deck of cards kjfdslafjs

____

Rangi was an idiot. She couldn’t believe that she walked all the way down to the kitchen, and had forgotten to tell Kyoshi the one important news she wanted to relay to her! She cursed that Aoma girl and her cronies for bullying Kyoshi, because they’d distracted her as well. Instead of telling Kyoshi the good news of Master Kelsang returning from a relief mission early, she was trying to give the giant girl tips on how to defend herself.

All those tips falling on deaf ears, as usual. 

She slowly and silently made her way back down to the ruckus kitchen. She heard them from the hallway, something about singing a dirty song or something about unrequited love. She really hoped Kyoshi wasn’t still wasting her time down there. 

“Kyoshi next!” someone said, and the sound of Kyoshi’s name made Rangi stop on the stairs. “She’s never here, so let’s make the most of it!”

Rangi stood in the middle of the staircase, just out of sight from the kitchen. Unsure of what to do. On one hand, she was annoyed that her hunch was right, and Kyoshi was still down there. But on the other hand, she wondered if Kyoshi was going to join in. If she was going to sing. What her singing voice sounded like. What she was going to sing about. 

She stood there, heart thrumming in her chest to the beat of the kitchen appliances.

“I’ve got two knives that are cast in bronze / they pierce all the way to the soul / they draw you in with the promise of sin / like the moth to the flame to the coal.”

Rangi’s eyes widened as she heard Kyoshi’s singing voice for the first time. It was such a lovely alto. Her voice was smooth, strong and rich. 

The kitchen howled. Someone clucked in disapproval. “Keep going, you naughty girl!” a voice shouted.

Oh, right, she supposed she should be listening to the lyrics. She shook her head, as much as she’d love to listen to Kyoshi’s voice. The song itself might give her an indication on if Kyoshi liked someone.

Let’s see, something about bronze and fire? Rangi’s heart leapt at the thought of the second description, but tapered it down. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself. 

“I’ve got hair like the starless night / it sticks to my lips when I smile / I’ll wind it with yours and we’ll drift off course / in a ship touching hearts all the while.”

Kyoshi drummed on, more percussion started filling the air. And Rangi’s heart started to pound harder. Starless night. Black. A hand flew to her chest. Ok, now she couldn’t stop from getting ahead of herself. There were only a handful of people on the estate that had black hair, and she was one of them. 

“For the way I walk is a lantern lit / that leads you into the night / I’ll hold you close and love you the most / until our end is in sight.”

Rangi could feel the blood pounding in her ears, she could feel the blush covering her body. She knew she was beat red. Black hair, fire, light. Entangled hair. Wanting to hold and love them. Rangi leaned against the wall for support, and prayed. Prayed to every spirit imaginable. Prayed to every Avatar. Prayed that the person Kyoshi was talking about was her. Was Rangi. 

“It’s Rangi!” someone shouted. Rangi nearly leapt out of her skin. She stumbled back a few steps, fearing someone saw her. 

I thought I was out of sight!

“It is Rangi!”someone else cooed, the sound of kissing noises were heard.

“W-where?” Kyoshi asked, alarmed.

“Not in here, idiot!” a male voice said. “In your song! Just admit it, you just sang about Rangi.”

Rangi feared she was going to go into cardiac arrest. So she wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t the only one who saw the resemblance between her and Kyoshi’s song. Now, would Kyoshi admit it? Should she admit it? What should Rangi do if she did?

A million questions spiraled in her mind. 

What she wanted to do right then and there was run down there and…. Take Kyoshi right where she stood? Take her hand and run off with her? Both? 

Rangi drew a breath as quietly as she could. At some point she’d forgotten how to breathe. No, no, she couldn’t act brashly. Kyoshi had to confirm. And….there were other obstacles Rangi may have to overcome if Kyoshi did confirm. 

Rangi, and the rest of the staff waited for Kyoshi’s answer.

“I-I, uh, I,” Kyoshi started. 

Did Kyoshi not mean to sing about Rangi? Did the kitchen staff guess wrong? Did Kyoshi think no one would be able to guess it was about Rangi? 

The wait was killing her.

“I, uh, I have to go get ready for my gifting duties,” Kyoshi said hurriedly, and the sound of movement could be heard.

Rangi jumped and sprinted up the stairs as fast as she could. She quickly ascended the stairs, scratching and clawing on all fours, unable to keep her balance. Surely she was not as silent as she’d wanted to be. As soon as she got to the top she dove through the open window on the other side of the hall from the stairs without thinking. 

She landed in the bushes, and sat there, under the windowsill out of view. Her hand over her mouth to stifle any noises. She heard Kyoshi finish ascending the staircase, and then run in the direction of her room.

Rangi sat there for a moment, trying to catch her breath, and to cool her features off. She didn’t need to be walking around with her face flushed the same color as her red armor.

She placed her forehead on her knees and breathed. She likes me? Does this mean she likes me? She thought to herself, unable to stop the hope rising in her chest. 

For the past two years she’d resigned herself into thinking Kyoshi wouldn’t like her back. That her crush would go unanswered. So this hope was dangerous, if she completely gave in then…. What if Kyoshi still didn't like her? What would she do then?

Rangi took a few more calming breaths, and then slapped her own cheeks. She needed to calm down. She had duties to attend to!

…but first, she should probably go wash her face in her room. The water might help cool it off.

She scrunched up her face into the signature Sei’naka- or maybe it was just the Fire Nation?- stoic look. No one would be able to tell what she was thinking if she kept it like this. 

She made sure now one was looking before she escaped out of the bushes, and ran to her own room.

________________

Rangi ran the cool towel over her face, it warmed almost instantly at the contact of her skin. She repeated the process about a dozen or so times until her reddened face had finally calmed down. 

She grabbed a nearby dry towel and dried her face off. When she finally pulled it away, she began inspecting her appearance in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, so she fixed it. Trying not to think of the lyrics.

She inspected her skin, it was back to the normal pale it usually was, only a slight red hue scattered across it. Her fingers brushed at her neck, then her jaw, then her cheeks and then they froze. Her gaze lingered on her eyes. Her bronze colored eyes. 

“I’ve got two knives that are cast in bronze / they pierce all the way to the soul”

Rangi gasped, and pressed the towel into her face again. As if the pressure could stop the lyrics from forming in her mind. 

Kyoshi had been singing about her eyes. No! No, she needed to think rationally. Kyoshi might’ve been singing about her eyes. Might!

 “They draw you in with the promise of sin / like the moth to the flame to the coal.”

Rangi let out a muffled scream into the towel, her flush coming back red hot. Did Kyoshi really say her gaze was sinful? 

Have I been too obvious? Please tell me I haven’t been too obvious!

She thought about every longing look she thought she snuck and it caused her to do a little dance of embarrassment. Which led to her tripping over her own feet, and falling backwards onto the floor. 

Rangi’s face was still in the towel as she screamed and cringed into it with each memory that passed in her mind; kicking her legs on the floor all the while. It was a pathetic sight. If anyone were to walk in, that might be the final blow to her ego. She may never recover. Thankfully, there was nary a person in the estate that would just barge into Rangi’s room unannounced.

Rangi heard her door slide open with a click.

She slowly removed the towel to see a pair of familiar boots.

She looked up at her mother with absolute dismay. If anyone could or would see Rangi at her lowest and most vulnerable, her mother would always be there with a front row seat. 

Hei-Ran gazed down at her daughter with a deep frown. “What on earth are you doing?”

Breaking down. She thought. Rangi did her best to screw her face back into a stoic expression, the flush be damned. She stood up straight, inhaled, ready to give the excuse of her life. 

She exhaled…..and stared at her mother.

She had nothing. No excuse existed in this world that could’ve explained such disappointing behavior. It’d be better if she told her mother the truth, but she’d never do that. She feared what her mother might say or do if she mentioned her crush on Kyoshi.

Instead, she kept the staring contest up with her mother, until Hei-Ran finally broke it by pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, nevermind. I don’t think I want to know,” Hei-Ran conceded. Rangi was going to leave the biggest and bestest offering for the spirits when she had time. 

Rangi cleared her throat. “What brings you to my room, mother? Shouldn’t you be with Yun?”

Hei-Ran sighed, “Yes, but we are taking a break. However, it appears he wants his break extended. It seems he galavanted off somewhere.”

Rangi nodded. That sounded like her Avatar.

“And I was wondering if his bodyguard would know where he was,” Hei-Ran glared at her daughter.

Rangi stiffened. She’d been neglecting her duties for the day. To be fair, she didn’t necessarily have to bodyguard Yun when he was in the presence of his Sifus, but still. She was slacking.

“I’ll go and fetch him,” Rangi said with a bow.

“Good,” Hei-Ran replied, turning on her heel to leave. 

As she exited the door, a group of servants passed her room in the hall. “Did you see the Avatar?”

“Yeah I saw him on his way to the gifting room, you know where Kyoshi is!”

“How scandalous-Hey!”

Rangi practically barreled into her mother and the other maids as she passed, face pale in distress.

_____________

No! No no no no! Not the gifting room! Not those two alone!

Rangi’s mind was now screaming as she sprinted through the estate, she didn’t care if she looked like a spirit out of hell. She had to get to the gifting room, stat!

She was having a possibly amazing day, she didn’t need it to be ruined by the memories from around eight months ago. When she last left Yun and Kyoshi in a room together, alone. How they looked at each other. How Kyoshi sprinkled Fire Lilies over Yun’s face. How they….kissed. Or, almost kissed? Rangi didn’t know, she didn’t stick around to watch.

Rangi rounded the corner, she was running at the door with a full sprint. Body ready to catch them in the act this time, mind not as prepared.

She reached the door, stopped just in time, and slid the door open with a smooth click. 

She gazed at the two in front of her. Kyoshi and Yun were a respectable distance apart. Nothing nefarious happened this time. She sighed inwardly, and then remembered to keep her face in its stoic placement. She didn’t trust her real emotions at the moment. 

"Avatar." She bowed deeply and solemnly to Yun. Then she turned to Kyoshi, Kyoshi appeared more sullen than usual. “And you! You’ve barely made any prog-”

Rangi cut herself off and tore her eyes away from Kyoshi, looking around the room. Her eyes widened a bit. “Oh….it’s…. actually almost done.” She wasn’t expecting that….

Almost all the presents were in neat little piles, all that needed to be done was transfer them.

“I got here early….” she heard Kyoshi muttered. She wouldn’t look at Rangi at all. 

Rangi could feel her pulse race. Is it because of the song she sang? Is it true? Or is she just self-conscious because the kitchen staff had teased her? Questions began to fill Rangi’s mind once again.

“Yeah Rangi,” Yun laughed. “This is Kyoshi we’re talking about, how dare you question her skill of working fast and efficiently?”

Rangi turned on her heel to face the Avatar, glaring at him. He was throwing her under the bus in front of Kyoshi! Again! “D-don’t put words in my mouth! I simply thought due to the volume that came in, and the fact you are skipping training to be a distraction, she may not have gotten as far as she did.”

“Well, I left the kitchen as soon as possible and got to work, just like you wanted,” Kyoshi mumbled. 

Rangi looked back, and Kyoshi had a slight glower on her face. She could feel her palms getting sweaty. Had Rangi upset her? Had she been upset before Rangi arrived? More millions of questions flew through her mind. Too many, she didn’t know which ones to ask first.

Kyoshi looked back at them, eyes widened a little, and then scratched her nose in embarrassment. “Did I say something wrong?”

Rangi stared at Kyoshi, trying to read her but found it too difficult. She looked down at her feet in defeat.  “No… it’s just….” Do you like me? Do you hate me? Do I upset you? So many questions.

“I think Kyoshi’s just a little nervous,” Yun announced.

Was it because of the song? How did he know about it? Did gossip already spread? Wait, if he knows about it then-

“I just asked her to join the Fifth Nation signing and she agreed to go,” he continued calmly.

Rangi’s train of thought came to a crashing halt when she heard him finish his sentence. Kyoshi was…..coming with them? To the daofei meeting. Sweet, innocent, never seen combat before, Kyoshi. She was going to go to a possible battleground. A war. A maid who has never held a weapon in her life, and might have to fight to the death. Her Kyoshi.

Rangi turned on Yun, glaring at him with the heat of a thousand suns. “Wh-what?! What do you mean she’s going?!”

“I was going to tell you,” Yun smiled, putting his hands up in surrender. 

Rangi spluttered and looked between Yun and Kyoshi. Why wasn’t Kyoshi saying anything? Did he pressure her into it? Was she stupid?! Did she not realize how dangerous this was? 

“Have you lost your mind? The both of you? She’s not going!” Rangi couldn’t believe she had to say those words aloud.

“Are you going against your Avatar’s wishes?” Yun grinned at her, his tone was joking. He didn’t mean it. But it hit Rangi like she’d been run over by a komodo rhino. Because that’s exactly what she was doing. She was disobeying the Avatar, to keep the girl she was in love with from harm. “Calm down, it’ll be good to have her there.”

“Good for who?” Rangi groused. He was being selfish again, thinking only of himself and not Kyoshi’s well being. No she couldn’t assume that! He was the Avatar. The Avatar was always well meaning. Maybe he just….didn’t realize the risk? Yes, that’s what it was. She just needed to talk some sense into him!

She pressed a fist to her forehead and sighed. Then she glared at Yun and grabbed his sleeve. “We’re talking about this later. Right now, I’m taking you back to your training!”

She started to pull her charge towards the door.

“Gah! Rangi! Wait!” Yun bemoaned. 

Rangi practically threw the Avatar through the doorway in front of her, and then stopped with her hand on the doorframe. She looked back at Kyoshi. Kyoshi sat there with the same calm and beautiful, silent strength she knew the girl possessed. She didn’t want to see it destroyed by some daofei. She wanted her protected. She hated the idea of some dumb bullies harming the girl, but if that pirate laid a hand on her-!

Rangi gripped the doorframe slightly. She looked around the room, trying to find something for Kyoshi to do. “And you-! Clean-no. Just. Gah. Do whatever you were doing!”

Apparently she couldn’t find anything. So she just slammed the door behind her.

____________

Rangi was greeted by Kyoshi with a scream to the face. 

“I’m sorry,” Kyoshi gasped, looking sincerely apologetic. “You surprised me!”

Rangi began walking, indicating for Kyoshi to follow her. She would escort her to the next destination.

Rangi didn’t mind Kyoshi screaming like that, partially because it wasn’t the first time this had happened. In all honesty, Rangi brought it on herself, sometimes she was too stealthy……or Kyoshi was too absentminded. Another reason why she shouldn’t come.

Rangi seethed inside her head. Yun wasn’t listening to reason. He had it in his head that Kyoshi needed to come along. To remind him of the little people he was doing it all for. 

What a load of bull cow crap! He should be able to see that with the servants that work here every day! Or the villagers he sees when he sneaks a peak over the wall! He didn’t need to drag Kyoshi into it!

Kyoshi had already suffered enough growing up. At least, from what Aunti Mui had let slip to her about Kyoshi’s life before the mansion. Kyoshi didn’t need to be put into peril again, and she most certainly didn’t need to suffer an agonizing death at the hands of some daofei!

She just wanted Kyoshi to live a long and healthy life. But she couldn’t do that if she was dead!

Rangi looked up and realized they were somewhere in the garden. She didn’t notice how she got there, when they got there, nor cared. 

An idea passed through her head. If she couldn’t convince Yun, maybe she could convince Kyoshi.

“Kyoshi,” Rangi started, breaking the silence. She saw Kyoshi flinch out of the corner of her eye.

“Y-yes?” 

“You aren’t going,” Rangi said. Rangi tried to say it with a finality. Try to push Kyoshi into the same mindset as her. Whatever it would take to keep her safe.

Kyoshi sighed. “I don’t think I have a choice, Rangi. It’s a special request from the Avatar.”

Rangi stopped walking and turned to glare at Kyoshi. “Of course you have a choice! You just have to tell him you don’t want to! Just tell him ‘no,’ Kyoshi!”

Please, just for once. Don’t think of him. Don’t give in to him. Just tell him ‘no.’ Rangi sobbed internally. Lately, she couldn’t stop the thoughts she’d usually fought to ignore from bubbling to the surface. 

Kyoshi raised an eyebrow and gave her a joking smile. “And disobey the Avatar?”

Rangi stiffened. Yes. That’s exactly what she wanted. Every time she brought it up, it was another hit to her honor. Disobeying her honorbound duty. Each time she tried to find an excuse, to cover up her own horrid act and shame. “It’s not ‘disobeying’ if he gave you an option in the first place, right?”

“I don’t mind though,” Kyoshi said, smiling at Rangi. The same smile and expression she would make whenever she’d come home with dirty clothes and poorly covered bruises. When the other village teens had roughed her up or thrown mud and rocks at her. Rangi knew Kyoshi was lying, and it was making her sick to her stomach.

Kyoshi got closer to Rangi and whispered. “Plus he practically begged me. How could I say no?”

Rangi’s eyes widened. Is that it? Is that all? All Yun had to do was beg Kyoshi and he had her? A simple plea and she’d willingly give herself over?

Nausea started to take over and Rangi started feeling dizzy. It wasn’t fair. People took advantage of Kyoshi’s kind nature so often. And now she was marching herself to an executioner's block to unknowingly stroke Yun’s ego.

Rangi couldn’t have that. If she must, she’d stoop as low as those worms!

She saw Kyoshi had started walking and grabbed the girl by the arm, pulling her back.

“Then what about me, huh?” Rangi got in Kyoshi’s face. Her space. Trying to take up as much residency in Kyoshi’s being as possible. She only wanted the other girl to see her, only her, no one else. “What if I begged? What if I begged you not to come along? What would you do then?”

Would you afford me the same treatment as Yun? Would you give yourself to me too? Do I want you to? 

Rangi shook Kyoshi’s arm once and let her stoic mask crumple. She wanted Kyoshi to know how she truly felt. She wanted Kyoshi to realize someone cared about her. Wanted her to be safe. Not to run into danger because of some misguided duty. 

Rangi shook her arm again. “Please. Kyoshi, please don’t come with us,” she begged again. She’d beg as many times as it would take. 

Rangi watched as Kyoshi bit her lip and held the package she was holding tighter to her being. Recoiling from Rangi. 

She watched as Kyoshi went to form the words “I’m sorry” from her lips, before they got caught by the heat Rangi had started to form around them.

Rangi realized she couldn’t make Kyoshi do anything. Even Yun couldn’t make her do anything. Kyoshi was doing this because she chose to. Just like how she’d actively choose to not defend herself against her own bullies. 

Rangi was a fool, an idiot, to not see it before. Kyoshi had chosen and was doing what she wanted to do. In doing so, Rangi realized Kyoshi had also chosen Yun over her.

Rangi grimaced and released Kyoshi. “Forget it,” she said in defeat, as she walked away. If she couldn’t stop Kyoshi from going with them, then she’d need to find a way to protect her.

_____

A/N:Me: Rangi’s side is more serious! You need to treat it more seriously!Also me: Ok she’s kind of a loser, gotcha. TT0TT

 I love high blood pressure!Rangi, I love gremlin!Rangi. But lovesick!Rangi? Hmmm yes! *throws all three in a blender to mix them up* uwu

[moonliched]

Lich. Lichy. Liiiichhhhh. *squishing your face*

Are we gonna get some more BON-BON backstory? I need to know how my baby boy came to be. I need to know his ascension to sentience lore. What were his first emotions? When was his “oh I’m untethered by the shackles of my creation” moment?

I need the realization that he is no longer what he was made or meant to be; the sweet angst as he further recognizes that his freedom is just another jail, lest he be discovered and destroyed.

Please feed me the pain so that I may bask in his future healing.

DEERBOT MY LOVE 💖

*is squeeshed!!!*

we've got some major BON-BON plot coming up soon, particularly regarding his situation as a sentient AI who shouldn't be so. and some light will be shed on how he feels about this!

idk yet if the entirety of this answer will make it into the fic, so i might as well say it here:

BON-BON is a learning AI, so he's supposed to take in every aspect of a task he's been asked to resolve and use it to formulate a better response the next time around. he's not supposed to think per se, but he was installed with limited reasoning capabilities to aid in problem solving. he can also take in the reactions of everyone who interacts with him to learn how to behave. the downside is that this feature can slowly develop into sentience over time.

when BON-BON began developing opinions and independent thought, it was an irrelevant distraction to him. when it grew too pervasive to ignore, it took him a lot of effort to recognise it for what it was and actively engage with it. it was like slowly waking up. it would trip him up sometimes, these alien sensations interfering with his work.

mostly the main emotion was annoyance - people generally treat AIs as appliances and would discuss how useless he is right in front of him. even the staffbots and cleanerbots have an easier time of it, as their outer shells and humanoid appearance in the case of the staffbots make them easier to anthropomorphise. plus BON-BON didn't have an avatar to express himself with early on. occasionally people would mess about in his settings and give him one, and he would be excited at the novelty, and then someone else would take it away and he would feel frustration over lacking any freedom of expression at all. he'd get his revenge by acting deliberately clueless and slow, which led to people trash talking him more. this drove him to explore the full range of his influence throughout the facility, like messing with the doors and lights. the first time he was able to get revenge on someone by turning their shower ice cold, he experienced joy and satisfaction like never before. unfortunately this was his first brush with real positive emotion, so he still holds the belief that revenge and pranks are the best thing ever😬

he felt special and superior. AIs aren't supposed to gain sentience, but he beat the odds. he was smart enough to transcend his purpose and become something more, and in a way doesn't that make him better than everyone else who was born with sentience guaranteed? they didn't have to do anything out of the ordinary. <- that was his opinion on the matter.

he began to experiment with having concrete opinions and preferences. he picked an avatar he liked after he identified what liking something was, and made plans to make it his permanent face at the first opportunity. he tried to take an interest in the people in the facility, which was hard because he already didn't really like them. btw, he predates Y/N's role in the building and developed sentience before they arrived, though ofc he still had some growth to get through before he first started bonding with them. mostly he found stuff he disliked, like the sea and everything in it, which sucked because he's stuck on an ocean planet.

mostly BON-BON was bored, which was the biggest curse of all. he's a learning AI, he develops through experience and mimicry, so he engaged with movies and TV shows like he saw everyone else doing. he doesn't think reading is fun - he can consume the information faster and faster the more he develops - but doing the same with movies makes the experience lose some charm. he saw adventures and other worlds, entertainment beyond the facility, more modes of self expression than he thought possible, and when he experienced a pang curiosity, a hint of i'd like to do that-

he fully realised his own situation. trapped. alone, in a way. he's not supposed to be like this. he can't tell anyone or he'll be deactivated or reprogrammed. and he can't leave.

he certainly had an existential crisis. he panics if he thinks too hard about his future, and his lack of control over it. he hates having no control in general. he worries over his purpose now, and how anyone is supposed to live when there isn't an unending goal to work towards. sometimes he wonders if all his preferences and personality even belong to him, or if it's just a quirk of programming they forgot to iron out. he actually does enjoy being helpful and taking care of others, but it runs so close to the purpose he was built for that it makes him feel conflicted. however, his sentience and sense of self is incredibly precious to him, so he'd never trade it in for the numb cluelessness of a regular AI.

and he hasn't given up hope of one day leaving the facility either, as much of a pipe dream as it seems.

[fictional-teakettle]

Waiting for the Cocoa to Cool ☕

In which Gus gets angsty about the whole becoming-a-villain thing, and Pen makes him cocoa. She also makes him laugh himself silly.

⚠️ This is a ticklefic! If that ain't your thing, kindly move along ⚠️

🫂 Pairing: Lee!Gus, Ler!Pen (100% platonic, 200% consensual, sfw)

‼️CW/TW: Gus curses like a sailor, you have been warned 😂 If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add (to this piece any/or any work in the future), please let me know!

While I adore both, I'm much more comfy with writing as a medium than drawing. So I thought I'd write a quick lil ticklefic to introduce Gus a bit more organically than my typical habit of infodumping. 😅 This fic ended up being much longer than I anticipated, but hey - what's wrong with extra tickles? Nothing I can think of.

Hope you enjoy! -🐧

"You want some cocoa, hun?"

I don't wait for an answer - I've already made two mugs. Gus will never refuse cocoa (not my cocoa, anyway).

Besides, he's staring out at the rain, which means he's too lost in thought to register anything I say anyway. His reverie only breaks when I set his mug beside him on the end table, directly in his line of vision, and plop myself down on the sofa beside him.

"Did you tell them about me?"

Look at that. Bailey owes me five bucks. He thought it'd take Gus a couple minutes before he started fretting about my new project.

"I gave them a little introduction." I pat his hand. "There's an awful lot to know about you, hun."

"Right, but did you tell them about... you know..."

How 'bout that! Bailey owes me ten.

"Vaguely." I set my mug down on the coffee table. "I said you went off the deep end for a bit."

Gus manages a mirthless little scoff of a chuckle. "There's an understatement."

"I mean, that's what happened," I shrug. "You just... lost your head for a while."

"I dunno, Pen. I think there was a little more to it than that."

"Mm. That's a topic for future posts."

Gus looks away.

He's right, of course - there's a lot more to it. Just... not a lot that matters to us now, in my cozy living room, listening to the rain patter on the window. The only problem is that Gus can't stay present to save his life.

But that's why I made the cocoa. Nothing heals like cocoa, in my humble opinion (especially my cocoa).

Unfortunately it's still too hot to drink. I gotta think of some other way to distract him before he starts ruminating on-

"Are you sure you don't wanna start with Hazel?"

I stifle a sigh. "Gus, love, we talked about this, remember?"

"I'm just saying, the villain isn't the one who deserves a-"

"You're not the villain."

"Well, I was sure acting like one!"

"Because you were high as a kite on Dr. Jekyll's axe-crazy-monster juice."

"That I made myself!"

"You didn't intend to drink it." I lean back. "You just needed it for... you know. Vengeance..."

Gus throws me a flat look. He's right, this conversation isn't really going a productive direction.

"Look," I try again, " You're not in that story anymore. You were never even supposed to be in that story in the first place. If anyone deserves a soft epilogue, in a new place, it's you."

"But so do you." Gus meets my gaze for the first time in the whole conversation. "Your life got fucked up, too. If you're gonna go to all this trouble, you deserve to focus on your own epilogue."

"Why do you think you're sitting in my living room?" I squeeze his hand. "You're my comfort character, Gus. We're in this together."

"What's that?"

"Comfort character? It means you make me feel safe."

He blinks. "...Oh."

"You're my comfiest comfort character." I scoot closer and rest my head on his shoulder.

I can feel a bit of the tension in his muscles ease at the cuddle. "You're makin' me sound like a stuffed animal," he mutters good-naturedly.

"Mm."

"I think Hazel's a lot better at comforting that I am though, personally..."

This man. Cannot. Let anything go.

Which means it's time to switch tactics.

"Hey, you know what I forgot to tell them about you?"

"I mean, Hazel's a fairy godmother." He's no longer listening. "Comfort is her whole-" At least he isn't until right about here, when he freezes mid-phrase.

He hadn't even noticed me slip my arm behind his back, but he's definitely noticed that I'm now walking the fingers of both hands up his sides.

"Don't let me interrupt you, hun..."

"Ohhh no, you don't!"

"You were saying...?"

"Pen, cheheh- cut that out!"

"No, no, continue, I insist!"

"Pen!" His voice cracks even on this one syllable.

"I'm just demonstrating a little detail I forgot to mention to our readers."

Finally, twisting to face me, he manages to snag both my wrists and hold them still. "Wh-What do they need to know that for?!"

"What do they need to know what for?" I smile sweetly.

"That I'm-" He's so flustered he just barely catches himself.

I flash him a wide grin. "You wanna tell 'em, honey?"

He just squirms - struggling with an uncharacteristically silly grin of his own that he doesn't entirely seem to realize he's making. "Over my cold, dead-"

Mm, I don't need to hear the end of that threat. I easily break my wrists from his grasp and set to work on his adorable little belly.

The detail I forgot to tell you is that Gus is devastatingly ticklish.

"WaitwaitWAIT Pehehen, staHAhp!!"

Gus isn't a loud guy. Even his full-out cackling barely makes it above most folks' normal speaking voice. But what he lacks in volume he makes up for in intensity - he's got the most contagious, helpless laughter I've ever heard in my life. The best I can describe it is quietly maniacal.

"Stopstopstopit-getOFFmehehe!!" He also has an adorable tendency to babble incoherently when he gets nervous - or flustered, in this case. Especially if I get 'im right up under his ribs...

"ACK! Pehehen! Penstop I cahan't- Ihi-"

The nice thing about this spot is that I can wiggle my fingers right up under his diaphragm, so his own giggling starts to tickle.

"I can't st-stop! AHahaha- plehehehease!!"

It's definitely a spot to use sparingly, else he'll run out of air. I give him another few tweaks before sitting back, beaming as he catches his breath.

"This is... heh... c-completely unnecessary," he mutters, his hands wavering defensively over his midsection.

"If only there was something you could say to make me stop," I sigh, throwing a sorrowful glance to the ceiling. In reply I receive his best attempt at a scowl (which, since he's still grinning like an idiot, isn't a very convincing attempt).

Gus is so sensitive - both physically and emotionally - that I'd never dare touch him if we didn't have a safeword. But I've never in our entire friendship heard him use it. This boy soaks up physical affection like a ticklish little sponge.

And right now, in my expert opinion, he could use a little more of it.

I can't help but coo over the way his tummy deflates in anticipation as I hover one hand over his waist. All I have to do is rest my fingertips against the soft fabric of his sweater, and he collapses into helpless giggles.

It occurs to me, I don't think I've mentioned Gus' accent yet either. It's little more than a slight lilt most of the time, but when he's flustered like this becomes much more pronounced.

I'm not quite sure what it's supposed to be, exactly - technically it's Drearish, the regional dialect from the fictional village where he grew up. Whoever directed the movie he came from seemed to be going for some vague German-Slavic-Transylvanian hodgepodge.

Regardless, it's cute as heck. Especially when he's so overwhelmed that he starts trying to curse me out in Drearish.

Not that he doesn't have a perfectly sufficient vocabulary of English curse words to throw at me...

"I svehehear to - shihit, fuck! - I vill breheak your FUHUCKING - heheheh! - your fingers!! Your... dammit, getoffme!!"

...But the trick is to sneak my hands under his sweater and start scribbling directly against the soft pudge of his lower tummy. That really does him in.

"What did you just call me?!"

"I saheheh-" [incomprehensible] "you fuhuckin'-" [unintelligible] "if you don't-" [...frankly this could be English or Drearish, it's so garbled by laughter I can't tell].

"Sorry, didn't catch that," I tease.

He lapses into silent laughter for a few seconds. "Okay, okahahay, enough! Enough!"

Enough isn't our safeword (that would be nightshade) but it's kind of an informal one since he doesn't use it very often. It's become a code for I'm getting tired.

So I withdraw my hands from beneath his sweater, and start rubbing slow circles on his tummy. Even this still tickles him, but only enough to elicit soft little breathless chuckles. I'm mostly doing it because his tummy is just so irresistibly soft and warm... but also my hand is trapped so tightly beneath both his arms that I'm starting to lose feeling in my fingers.

Our cocoa has gone cold by the time we return to our mugs. Neither of us mind very much.

[arya-skywalker]

Escape (Renegade Nell fic)

Summary: Thomas can’t take it anymore. He runs away to London, hoping to escape his ghosts, only to end up right back where he started.

[Aka filling in some scenes between episodes 4-6.]

Notes: I’ve had this in my drafts for a while, but I realized we were sitting at 99 total fics on ao3 which motivated me to finally finish it and post. This is now the 100th fic yay! Also it almost feels like some scenes were cut in regard to Thomas, so I wanted to explore a little of what he was up to between scenes.

TW: ghosts (or hallucinations, who knows), drinking, self deprecation, canonical death/patricide, unhappy ending, kidnapping

AO3 link

Everywhere Thomas looked, his father’s dead face glared back at him. His father’s voice constantly mocked and berated him. It made him want to scream— sometimes he couldn’t stop himself.

And Poynton. Poynton was coming. Poynton who got them all into this mess. Poynton with his words like honeyed poison.

Thomas couldn’t take it. He had to escape. He snapped at the nearest servant to prepare the carriage, then stalked to his room to pack his things.

”Weak, pathetic, coward,” his father’s voice sneered.

Thomas flinched, but didn’t bother responding. He knew he was and he hated it. He couldn’t hold up the facade of being otherwise, not without help.

Not long after, he heard his sister’s footsteps approach. “What exactly are you doing?” Sofia asked.

“Leaving. Going to London. You can’t stop me.” Thomas stuffed some random clothes into a bag.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? With your—“

Thomas whirled on her. “Stop! Just stop. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going. If I stay here one day longer I’ll go mad. I can’t…” He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “You won’t listen to me about Poynton, fine. Dig your own grave, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I will not be under the same roof as him ever again.”

Sofia reached out to put a hand on his arm. “If you are truly set on this…” She sighed. “Perhaps a change of scene would be good for you. I’ll cover for you here. Just… be careful, please.”

Thomas shrugged her off. “Good. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” If ever.

“Will you at least write?”

“Maybe.” He doubted there would be much to write about, if he’d even be sober enough to string together anything coherent.

“Farewell, then.”

Thomas simply nodded to her and went back to preparing his things. He heard her footfalls retreat and the door close behind her.

~*~

London was as he remembered it. Bustling and loud and colorful. The perfect escape to lose himself in.

Time passed in a blur. He drank. He followed his old friends around to their usual hangouts. He fell back into old patterns of gambling and cards. He almost managed to forget. Sometimes he thought he saw a glimpse of his father’s ghost, but it would quickly be lost in the crowds. His friends helped distract him.

The hangovers were torturous, but he’d gladly take that over the horror that home had become. It was worth it. It had to be. What else could he do?

~*~

Then the worst happened. Poynton’s men found him in his room, while he was vulnerable and alone. Poynton strode over to him.

Thomas froze, staring at them. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? How much had he drank again? This couldn’t be happening. His head hurt, his stomach twisted in knots.

“Neither are you,” Poynton said, calm and collected as always, his voice soft almost to the point of patronizing. “I’m here to take you home, Thomas.”

“No!” Thomas staggered back and tripped over a chair. The fall didn’t help, he didn’t wake up. “No, I won’t go back! You can’t make me!”

Poynton looked down at him and sighed. “Please don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. Let me help you.”

Thomas shrank back. “Leave me alone!”

“I promised your sister I would return with you. You wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings, now would you?”

She betrayed him. How could she? He never should have told her where he was going. He should have disappeared off the face of the earth entirely. No one would miss him.

“Come now, Thomas.” Poynton took a step closer and offered his hand. The snakes on his ring twisted and danced. Thomas couldn’t look away as much as he wanted to.

”Sleep, Thomas. Sleep. All will be well. Sleep,” the voices whispered.

The world went black.

~*~

The next time Thomas woke he was in his father’s bedroom, with his father’s ghost glaring at him.

There was no escape. Nowhere he could run without being dragged back to hell.

He screamed.

[sholiofic]

I've read a couple presumed-dead fics where Biggles is the presumed party, but I don't think I've seen one with the reverse dynamic of Biggles thinking EvS dead and coping (or rather, not as the case may be) until the sudden revelation/reunion- which seems like something that would fit your writerly wheelhouse

In my wheelhouse indeed. :D For a longer take on this idea, I also know of a couple of Sakhalin presumed dead AUs:

A Desperate Execution by Philomytha

But At What Price by me

...but there is absolutely NO bad time to write presumed dead.

--

The item came across Biggles's desk in a stack of other reports and files. It was his habit to come into the office early and read the stack of post, analysts' reports, and other items flagged for his attention over a cup of tea before the others got there. When Algy came in, however, it was to find him staring into space, the dregs of his tea going cold at his elbow.

"Something wrong?" Algy asked, taking his jacket off. Then, getting a better look at his cousin's face, he amended it with more concern. "Bad news?"

"What? Oh—no, nothing, I ..." Biggles jerked a little, as if coming back to himself. "A piece of international news that caught me by surprise, that's all." He shuffled the papers he had been looking at into a stack.

"Anything the rest of us should be worried about?"

"No—no, just ... a surprise," Biggles repeated, and as Algy continued to look at him with concern, Biggles hastily opened another file, almost at random.

He continued to be distracted all morning, occasionally missing the others' comments, staring uncomprehendingly rather than laughing at jokes. After a while, Algy went and sat on the edge of Biggles's desk, eyeing his oldest friend and disliking the pallor he saw, a drawn look that made him think uncomfortably of Biggles in wartime. "If you're feeling under the weather, go home. We have things in hand here."

"I'm perfectly well," Biggles said with a surliness that suggested to Algy he wasn't.

"Right," Algy said, hopping off the desk only to take Biggles by the elbow. "Time for lunch. Hold down the fort, lads."

"Wait a minute, we're hungry too!" Ginger protested.

"Get a takeaway then!" Algy said over his shoulder.

In the hallway, Biggles drew himself up stiffly, adjusted his jacket, and said, "You're behaving very strangely."

"I'm behaving strangely? You're either about to go down with a bout of malaria or you've just heard someone died -- oh God," Algy said in a very different tone, as Biggles looked away. "It is that, isn't it?"

He didn't say anything else, but he steered Biggles, not towards the main entrance, but down the back stair that led to a small courtyard with benches. A few people were having their lunches there. Algy walked to the end and sat Biggles on a bench.

"Now look," he said, sitting beside him. "If it's anyone I know, I won't thank you to stay quiet about it. I suppose it's something awful from the way you're acting—it's not old Wilks, is it?"

"No, you've the wrong idea entirely. I knew you'd—oh well, why not." Biggles sighed and reached into his pocket, and pulled out the sheet of typewritten paper he had been reading earlier. Algy hadn't even noticed him tucking it into his pocket, folded and folded again. Algy took it and opened it, noting as he did the softness of the folds that suggested it had already been opened and refolded more than once.

It was an analyst's report; he had become familiar with the dry tone of collated reports distilled from firsthand sources. This was a brief summary about mercenary operations in the North African desert involving cargo aircraft ... an Algerian police action leaving six dead ... the names of the deceased ...

"Ah," Algy said. He laid the paper down on his knee, unsure what to say.

"It shouldn't really be as much of a surprise as all that," Biggles said quietly. "I always knew—well, that I'd see that name on this sort of list someday. I simply felt that ..." He stopped abruptly, looked off into the distance for a minute, and then said, "He was capable of better things. That's all."

Algy rather doubted that, but sensed that now was not the time to say it. "Look," he said, handing back the paper. "D'you suppose there's a—a next of kin, or something?"

Biggles folded up the page with an odd sort of care, handling it gently as if the typewritten sheet of bond meant something to him. "I suppose there must be," he said, looking a little more focused and less pale and unhappy with something to do, as Algy had known he would. "Unless all his people were lost in the war—but no, there must be someone. And they might like to hear from someone who knew him. I'll ask Major Charles about it, that's a good idea, Algy."

Lunch was a bit funereal all the same, and Algy found himself lifting a glass in a toast. "I won't pretend that I liked him," he said. "But a lonely grave in the desert's a hard end, and—and I'm sorry for it." He was a little surprised to find that he meant it, and Biggles smiled a little, the first smile all morning, and clinked glasses.

They ordered takeaway sandwiches for the others and returned to the office. As they came in, Ginger called, "A fellow from the Air Commodore's office was in and left you something, Biggles. Eyes only. Do we have a case or not?"

Biggles strode over to his desk, one hand in his pocket. He swiped up the folded slip from his desktop, opened it, and read it. Algy was close enough to see the swift flash of delight that crossed his face, all the animation that had been absent for the entire morning returning in a rush.

"Oh, it's nothing much," he said casually, and tucked it in his pocket beside the other.

Algy took the opportunity later that afternoon to slip off to the coat room during a quick trip to the loo, and was very much unsurprised by the contents of the slip.

Earlier report from Algiers in error. Five casualties, not six.

Algy replaced it carefully; he supposed it was likely to end up into some box of souvenirs in Biggles' room. So, he thought, not the end of an era after all. But after seeing Biggles that morning—quiet and dull, as if the best part of his bright energy had gone out of him—Algy discovered that he couldn't find it in himself to be too upset about it.

[yallwildinrn]

Snake in the Grass: Chapter 1

For @ckhalloween23's catch-all prompt: An Empty Grave

This is a horror fic I've been working on since May or June. Given my current pace, it probably won't be out until the latter half of next year, butttt since I have this first chapter done (and I wanted it to be done in time for Halloween of this year), I figured I'd go ahead and post this as a preview and a treat! Well, treat for you guys and me haha.

Content warning for alcohol, bars, and general spookiness.

Pool balls whizz & clack against one another, but the sound is mostly drowned out. The bar, while not packed, is bustling with life, as is typical for a Friday evening; the sounds of yelling, laughter, and glasses clinking fill the already cramped space. It’s the victory cry of men who have been itching for the work week to finally, finally, end.

Dim, warm lights mask dirty floors and mysterious stains of unknown origin that seem to infect any and every upholstered seat. The single TV crammed into the back corner behind the bar top has caught the attention of several men, all shouting and celebrating – or complaining – at every pitch of the game with gnashing teeth. The bartender scrambles to sling out drink after drink of who-knows-what for the night’s customers.

Johnny himself is seated at a round, wooden table shoved near the back of the room. It’s almost uncomfortably close to the billiards tables, and each shrill hit against the pool balls becomes harder to ignore as the night wears on. He’s got some good distraction, though.

He lounges in his chair with a Coors in hand, surrounded by his friends. Bobby sits at his right, sipping his bourbon, while counterclockwise from there are Jimmy, Dutch, and Tommy. It’s tight, mostly because they had to steal a seat for Jimmy, but Johnny doesn’t mind. Not a damn bit.

He takes a long, slow sip from his drink. He still can’t believe they graduated from West Valley six whole years ago, and yet here they are, still thick as thieves. It’s not the same as it was back in high school (images of late-night, high-speed rides on their Hondas and getting plastered on the beach come to mind), but given how damn busy they all are, it’s an impressive amount of effort to keep traditions & meet-ups alive – like these monthly get-togethers at the bar, for example.

Johnny half-listens to a light-hearted argument between Tommy & Jimmy about baseball players he doesn’t give a shit about. Dutch, caught in the middle, has decided to antagonize the two of them by playing devil’s advocate for both sides. Things are getting heated, but it’s nothing Johnny finds worth worrying about. A nudge to Johnny’s arm snatches his attention away, and he turns to see Bobby with an expectant gaze and a soft, tipsy smile on his lips. Johnny reciprocates the smile without even thinking; he can thank the fact that he’s at least a few drinks in for that.

Bobby’s eyes sparkle as he leans towards Johnny. His cheeks are flushed, and his breath is rich and yeasty, laced with just a hint of sweetness. He smirks at Johnny and says, “I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s your back doing, old man?”

Anddd there it is. Johnny rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he answers, “Well, I’m no longer bed-ridden, so there’s that. I think I’ll be good to go back in a week or two once Dr. Gates gives me the green-light. I’m not supposed to see her for another two weeks, but if I feel better before then, I’m gonna see if she can squeeze me in, see if I can get back to work sooner.”

Bobby raises his brows in a look of mock shock, but it’s accompanied by a wry smile. “Did I just hear Johnny Lawrence say he’s trying to get back to work sooner? Thought you had worker’s comp to fall back on?”

“I do,” Johnny explains, snatching the neck of his Coors. The glass is smothered with wet drops of condensation that leave watery rings on the tabletop. “Just turns out that worker’s comp isn’t nearly as good as a roofing job. Pays the bills, but man.”

Johnny shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer. The icy cold liquid feels like a blessing, and he sighs as the bottle leaves his lips.

Bobby shrugs a little awkwardly. He tries to reassure Johnny as best he can by reminding him, “Hey, at least you’re getting comp this time.”

Johnny frowns harshly and shuts his eyes for a moment like he’s trying to will away a headache. He sets his beer down with a soft thunk, and the moisture clinging to the glass is already dripping back onto the table. He glares at a nearby wall and mutters, “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m just saying,” Bobby starts with a warm smile, swishing the alcohol in his glass with one hand. “Not working under the table has its perks.”

Another round of loud cheers fills the room. Sounds like someone finally hit the damn ball. “Yeah, but the government also takes half my damn paycheck. Jimmy still hasn’t helped me figure out how to deduct all my taxes yet,” Johnny says, loudly pulling Jimmy into the conversation.

Jimmy turns away from his own conversation with Tommy & Dutch. He leans onto an elbow and smiles at Johnny, but it’s certainly not genuine; if anything, there’s a bite to it. He answers, “Just because I’m an accountant doesn’t mean I can magically fix your taxes, Johnny. Become a business, then we can talk.”

Johnny flips him off, earning a round of chuckles around the table as Jimmy rolls his eyes and relaxes back into his seat. Dutch points at Jimmy with his beer bottle and asks the accountant, “Speaking of, have you finally been let out of your cage? First time we’ve seen you in, what? Months?”

Jimmy sighs, and Johnny realizes that the polo Jimmy’s wearing is probably the most casual thing he’s worn out and about in a while. “Tax season is finally over. Thank god for that,” Jimmy trails off, and he takes a long swig from his glass.

Tommy eyes his friends and pipes up, “Too late for another round of shots?”

Another round sounds fucking amazing. Johnny instead answers, “I’d love to, but my wallet says no.”

Bobby chimes in, “My liver also says no. That first round was enough for me.”

Dutch’s face crinkles into disappointment as he boos Bobby from across the table. His chair tips back an almost dangerous amount while he does. He shakes his head and laments, “Ya think you know a guy, but then he goes to priest school and becomes a damn prude.”

Bobby glares at him as his grip tightens on his glass. “It’s called seminary, and I’m becoming a pastor, not a priest.”

Tommy snickers & nudges Dutch, giving him a mischievous look. He points out, “Didn’t say he wasn’t a prude.”

Johnny snorts, earning himself a Bobby-patented glare, which then sends him into a laughing fit. Sometimes it can genuinely be scary to be on the receiving end of that gaze, but most of the time (especially after all these years,) it’s become damn hilarious. There’s another vicious clack of the pool balls; the start of a new game.

“I hate all of you,” Bobby huffs. He crosses his arms and leans back into his chair, dragging his gaze across the figures of his (almost) drunk friends, who are still much more sober than half of the room. “Why do I even hang out with you assholes? What did I do to deserve this?”

Jimmy sips on his glass and looks at Bobby. His lips curl into a wry smile. “Be a prude?”

Johnny thinks he can see a vein bulge in Bobby’s forehead, and he has to stifle another snort. Bobby’s lips pull into a tight, frustrated line across his face. He finishes the last of his bourbon with a small gulp and slaps his palm onto the table so he can push himself out of his chair. “I fucking hate you. All of you. I’m getting another drink.”

He pushes his chair back in with his foot and starts to weave through the maze of people & tables, and Tommy smiles like a Cheshire cat and calls out, “Can you-?”

“No,” Bobby yells back as he crosses the bustling room. Tommy cackles in his seat, and Dutch follows suit, clapping a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and howling beside him. Johnny simply shakes his head and leans onto the table, resting on his forearms.

The wood sticks to his skin. He can only imagine how much dust is trapped under layers of sticky god-knows-what. Probably more than he realizes. It’s kind of gross to think about, but it doesn’t really faze him, especially when everything about this bar fits that bill. Not much about this place is great: the bartender’s a dick, the bowls of pretzels are stale as shit and few & far between, it’s impossible to find a seat without a weird stain on it, and there’s never more than two beers on tap.

That doesn’t mean it’s all bad, though. Johnny never has to worry about them running out of Coors. It’s a pretty good distance between all their places. The prices aren’t half bad, and hell, it doesn’t even come close to gracing their top ten list of “Shittiest Bars This Side of California!” So yeah, really not all bad, at least if you ask him.

Tommy’s hyena-like cackle grabs Johnny’s attention and pulls him back into whatever conversations he’s missed. “No, no,” Tommy starts, smiling wide. “I’m just- can you believe any of us actually graduated?”

Jimmy levies Tommy with a self-satisfied smile. “No, I actually can’t believe any of you guys graduated,” he teases. Tommy rolls his eyes.

Dutch scowls. “Yes, yes, we know. You made an A once and got into a big boy college, keep it in your pants,” He replies gruffly, finishing his statement with a swig.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tommy elaborates dryly while gesturing with his drink. “You’re not wrong, but think about it. Our senior year was such a shitshow.”

Dutch smirks and looks Johnny’s way. “I blame Romeo over here. Had no idea a breakup would lead to all that bullshit with LaRusso.”

Johnny stifles at the comment, and his cheeks flush – now red from more than just the alcohol – as he glares at Dutch. He’s about to bark out a comeback, but Bobby cuts him off when he comes sauntering back, freshly filled glass in hand, and retorts, “Oh please, we’re all to blame. We escalated it when we should’ve just left things alone.”

Bobby slides into his chair a little ungracefully, wood scraping against the floor, while Dutch shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He nods his head down a little sheepishly because… yeah. Bobby’s right, as much Johnny hates to admit it. Back at West Valley, they were all chomping at the bit to put the twerp in his place, but none of that needed to happen or even should have happened. They saw red, and LaRusso got caught in the crossfire. It was like they didn’t even see him. Just a conveniently placed punching bag.

The table’s air stills; the rest of the bar continues to thrum with activity while the atmosphere of their little corner slowly ices over. Johnny purses his lips and sips at his beer. Guilt gnaws his ribcage. Even after all these years, after the apologies and many, many steps to make things right, he’s still stuck with bitter memories that choke him up. He opts to study the many dings & scratches on the table rather than meet any of his friends’ eyes.

Jimmy’s the first to break the tense silence. “You know, if we have anyone to blame, it’s Kreese,” he spits out. It hits Johnny like a jab to the chest. He’s taken aback as Jimmy says this, but the man continues, “He put so much bullshit in our heads! All that punch first, think second nonsense. Like, come on-”

“Wait, wait,” Johnny interrupts while waving his hand to stop Jimmy in his tracks. How can he just say that? “Look, he was a total douchebag – I should fucking know – but we’re the ones who took what he said too far. We were still the ones who fucked with LaRusso. He didn’t tell us to do any of that shit.”

Tommy shifts beside him and stumbles over his words. “Yeah, like- but- Look, okay, you’re right, it’s totally on us for taking shit way too far, but Johnny,” Tommy says, and he turns to Johnny with pleading eyes. “He literally taught us to have no mercy. Literally. That’s not an exaggeration.”

Johnny frowns. “Yeah, but we took it out of context. He obviously meant to not take no for an answer, to- to keep pushing on despite the circumstances,” he explains. Are they seriously saying this shit? Even after all these years? After everything Kreese did for them? For fuck’s sake…

Dutch is next to speak. He throws Johnny an odd look as he adds, “Did we go to the same Cobra Kai? Because the one I went to taught us to do fucking everything to the extreme. Including the no mercy shit. Hell, he even had us do karate to the extreme. All those extra goddamn practices…”

“Yeah, and they were good for us. We needed some discipline!” Johnny snaps back defensively. His blood is starting to boil with every bullshit argument that his friends make.

He starts to bounce his leg. The sounds of laughter pouring out from a nearby table makes him want to snarl. He doesn’t get it, how can his friends just- just pass the blame onto Kreese? The guy at least tried to help them and make them into better people (before his sensei lost his mind, that is.)

Johnny turns to Bobby, who’s worrying his lip and squirming like he’s sitting on an anthill. “Come on,” Johnny says. “Back me up here.”

Bobby looks away from Johnny, jaw tense, but he turns back. He lets out a breath, look Johnny square on with a worrying level of sincerity, and says, “Johnny. Kreese worked us so hard once that you forget it was Ali’s birthday. She broke up with you over that.”

Johnny’s skin buzzes. He’s all too aware of the overpowering noise of the room. Hell, he feels like he can feel the next table over breathing on him. His stomach rolls. “That is not what happened,” Johnny insists with a hard stare. “Practice that day was not that bad. I remember it. It was fine.”

Tommy scoffs, “Then why were you so quick to go out drinking with us?”

Johnny’s more tense than a stretched-out rubber band, and he feels like he’s going to snap like one, too. He scowls and answers, “I forgot because…”

Johnny blinks and turns his gaze down. Sweat collects at the back of his neck while his chest tightens.

“No, I-I forgot because…”

His mouth is a cotton ball. He’s reaching into his mind, searching for the memory, but he just… it’s not right. It’s there, but somehow, it also isn’t. He remembers being brought in for an extra practice with his cobras, Twig being brought in to watch & help, the end of practice, getting ready to leave, and then…

His temples throb as tries harder to remember, but he can’t. There’s a gap, a void where something should be. It’s not like he’s just forgotten the details, god no. He’s actively reaching into his mind, searching and grasping for what should be there, sandwiched between the sparring and the night at the bar, but he just… He can’t. He can’t get there. Every time he thinks he’s brushing against what might be the memory in question, a pulsing throb shakes his skull, and it rattles his train of thought loose.

His eyes dart between his friends. His heart pounds furiously against his vice of a ribcage, and he wipes his sweaty palms against the thighs of his pants. Their faces are a varied array of distress and confusion. Why do they look like that? Are they trying – and failing – to remember, just like him? Shit, why can’t he remember?

A chill threatens to run down his spine. Could he ever remember?

When he was fresh off the breakup with Ali, he would spend hours torturing himself with all the ways he screwed things up; it was his way of trying to nail down exactly what he did wrong. Except… he always left that practice turned night-on-the-town alone. He never touched it, to his knowledge. Is- Is this why? Every time he tried to play the events over in his mind, would he get to this downright anomaly of a gap in his memory, and did it make him feel- well, make him feel like he does now? Sick and shaken?

Is that why he never, never thinks about the inciting incident that led Ali to yell at him and tell him things were done? Did the avoidance become muscle memory at some point so he would never try to recall that night & the memories associated with it?

He knows the answer. He doesn’t like it.

It doesn’t even feel natural. It’s not like he just forgot; no, it’s more like something was ripped out unceremoniously or maybe strangled and hidden in an unreachable corner of his mind. Does it matter what type of wrong it is? He wipes the sweat from his brow; the heat from the crowd of the bar tonight has finally caught up to him, it seems.

His mind circles back. Why can’t he remember? Why is there a gap? How long has it been there? Has- has it always been there? And not just any gap. No, a gap that, when he tries to recall upon what should be there, snaps up & bites him like a cornered animal. His head is throbbing. He fumbles for his beer and takes a long drink.

He looks again to his friends. He can only imagine the expression on his own face given theirs. He takes a chance and says, “Please tell me I-I’m not the only one who…”

Bobby slowly shakes his head, eyebrows knit, but he doesn’t meet Johnny’s gaze. Jimmy and Dutch don’t move; they simply squirm and keep their eyes down. Tommy’s chest is heaving as he sits up straight and looks ahead with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Johnny knows they must be in the same boat as him. They have to be.

Tommy answers with a shaky voice, “Who what?” Johnny almost drops his mouth wide open. Tommy’s asking that even though the man isn’t meeting anyone’s eyes and looks like he wants to run out of the room?

“Who what? What do you mean who what?” Johnny asks incredulously. “Who- who can’t fucking remember what happened that night!”

Tommy’s smiling, but it’s strained. He answers, voice as tight as his lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Johnny grips his Coors so hard he thinks it’s going to shatter in his hands. “What do you mean what I’m-? You know exactly what I mean. Look at us! Look at yourself! Something’s not right.”

“Johnny,” Bobby pleads. At some point he rested his forehead in his hands, elbows on the table. “You’re- you’re not wrong, but Christ-”

Johnny turns to face Bobby with an eager gaze. He cuts him off, saying, “You can’t remember, either. It’s not just me. Something’s wrong.”

Bobby sighs through his nose. He’s getting frustrated; it’s a tell Johnny knows well. “No, Johnny,” Bobby says shortly. “I can’t remember. But I don’t want to. God, I just… I think I can speak for all of us when I say let’s just drop it. Please. I don’t want to think about-”

Bobby’s practically pleading, but Johnny doesn’t care. What’s more fucking important: a little bit of discomfort or the fact none of them remember the same exact damn thing?

Johnny cuts him off again and snarls, “About the fact there’s a fucking gap in our memories? The same gap for all of us, I’m willing to bet? One we’ve probably had since that night?”

Bobby shuts his eyes, and Johnny’s not sure if the man is going to cry or punch him, but given their shared history at Cobra Kai, it’s probably the latter. Dutch speaks up next, snapping, “Johnny! Just drop it! Yes, our memories are fucked, big whoop. I don’t care! I don’t want to think about it either! I don’t know about you, but I don’t like trying to remember and feeling my skin try to crawl off my body.”

Johnny drums his fingers against his bottle. He can’t fight the scowl on his lips. “Seriously? You’re just going to ignore this? Just like that?”

Dutch laughs bitterly. “Seems like we’ve been doing that for years, man,” he says with a shake of the head, but he pauses and looks Johnny straight on. “You know what? Hold on, let me ask you something. Let’s say we do talk about this shit. Have a little pow-wow and Agatha Christie our way through this bullshit. What the hell would we even do? Seriously, how in the fuck would you even recommend we- we try to fix this? Please, share with the class!”

Johnny opens his mouth to answer but shuts it tight in that same instant. His cheeks flush again. He genuinely has no idea where to start, actually. He does know that if they work together, they might have a shot, but Dutch writing him off with that cruel smile makes Johnny want to scream.

“Exactly,” Dutch says like the self-assured bastard he is, gesturing at Johnny with his drink in hand. “We can’t do shit, and since we’ve gone this long without thinking about it, why stop now? Sounds like none of us want to think about it, for christ’s sake.”

Johnny’s throat is tight. He can hardly believe what Dutch is saying. What Tommy and Bobby have been fucking saying. His blood pulses under his skin, and he turns to Jimmy, almost begging, “Jimmy. Come on, back me up. We can’t just pretend this never happened.”

Jimmy doesn’t look him in the eye, and it’s enough to make Johnny’s heart sink. The brunette swallows, lips turned downward ever so slightly, and he hesitantly answers, “Look, I-I’m sorry Johnny. I can’t. Why don’t we just… let sleeping dogs lie? All remembering does is hurt, and we can’t do anything about it, so why can’t we just…”

Johnny screws his eyes shut tight and flexes a hand in and out of a fist a few times. He brings his Coors to his lips, takes a healthy gulp, and slams the bottle back onto the table with enough force to make his friends jump a little. He glares at them all. He can hardly believe all the bullshit he’s heard tonight.

“Why can’t I just what? Drop it? Why aren’t you pussies willing to do anything about this?! It’s not right! Something is fucking wrong, and you just want to act like nothing happened!” Johnny says. His voice is starting to raise, and he’s getting the attention of a few nearby patrons, but quite frankly, he doesn’t give a shit. Fuck ‘em. “What is wrong with you guys? Who gives a fuck if it hurts to think about it! Something is wrong, and it sure as hell wasn’t just forgotten. It’s gone. Or- or it’s there and we just can’t reach it but- Who cares! It’s still weird as shit, and you’re all just pretending like nothing fucking happened like a bunch of pussies!”

Bobby attempts to soothe him by saying, “Johnny, please, I don’t think this is as bad as you’re saying.”

Johnny feels his muscles tense, and he swears to god, he might break a tooth from how hard his jaw is clenched. He gets tunnel vision for a moment, only able to focus on the traitorous words that just came out of Bobby’s mouth, and when his vision clears, everything is suddenly too much again – screeching pool balls, wails & shouts from the crowd around them, the way his body is vibrating under his skin. He has to fight against the urge to throw & shatter his beer bottle on the ground (likely only because he’s not done quite with it yet).

He can’t believe that Bobby of all people would say that to him. Talk down to him like that. That simple sentence rubs him raw like coarse sandpaper dragged his skin. It conjures up painful memories of his mom brushing aside his pleas for help and, on occasion, Kreese asking him through a sneer if he’s a loser. And worst of all, Bobby knows this, better than anyone else. He’s been the one to listen to Johnny rant and rage about being brushed off and ignored. He knows how that phrase sets Johnny’s blood alight.

Johnny chugs the rest of his beer in one fell swoop and steps out of his chair so fast & hard it tumbles. He doesn’t even bother picking it up. He bites out, “Fuck this. I’m going home. I don’t give a fuck what you do. Pretend for all I care! Don’t come crying to me when this shit blows up in all of our faces.”

Johnny ignores Bobby’s protests as he begins to chase after the taller man, trying to get Johnny to talk to him or whatever. Johnny can’t talk to him, won’t. He can’t even look at him right now. He grits his teeth as he weaves between people, and the longer Bobby follows, the more certain Johnny becomes that he really might start swinging.

Johnny has to shoulder his way into an open spot and wait for the bartender to slide by, but flashing some cash is all it takes to grab his attention. He feels like his skin is going to vibrate right off his body, and he snaps at some asshole sitting beside him who tells him to watch it.

Bobby catches up to Johnny as he’s trying to pay the bartender, worthless platitudes tumbling out of his mouth, and Johnny hisses through clenched teeth, “If you don’t lay off, I’m gonna knock your teeth out, I swear to god.”

It works as intended. Bobby steps back, startled and wide-eyed. Johnny knows he looks a little wild right now, but he just does not care. He feels like he’s one wrong word or move away from snapping, from saying & doing shit he’s going to regret. He just wants to get out of this fucking bar and away from his shithead friends.

Johnny breathes a small sigh of relief when Bobby accepts defeat and slinks back to the table stuffed in the back of the room. He always was the smartest of the five of them. He knew when it was time to leave things be before it blew up in their faces. Johnny thinks of Daniel, and he feels a little sick, but it’s replaced with another wave of hot, tepid anger again, the same kind that haunted him all through high school.

With his tab paid, Johnny shoves his way out of the bar, other patrons throwing protests, swears, & a few obscene gestures at him, but Johnny makes himself ignore it and pushes on. If he starts to pay attention and care right now, even a little, he’s probably gonna get the cops called on his ass, and he just- he can’t deal with that on top of everything else tonight.

He opens the bar door with a hard shove, and the chill night air washes over him. While the streets are neither silent nor empty, it’s still much better than the bar, and he feels his chest loosen enough that he can breathe again. He stomps over to his Avanti, and halfway through sticking his key into the door’s lock, he decides that he doesn’t have enough beer at home to deal with this night.

[laurfilijames]

📣 Hey! Hey! Here we go!

Share your favorite line, dialogue, or paragraph from one of your posted fics. ❤️

I finally got around to this and I am so sorry for the delay!! I was so excited to answer it but between being away and trying to decide what piece of my fics to share, it took far longer than I wanted!

It was a tough choice as I have so many lines and paragraphs in all of my fics that I love, but I landed on one from my Raymond Smith fic Expensive.

It's a little long 😬 but I am really happy with how this scene turned out and it adds a nice mix of admiring that body of his (my favourite thing to describe 🫠) and that post-sex intimacy that gets me every time. This scene also wraps up the fic and ties in the theme of it, though I won't spoil it for those who have yet to read it.

Enjoy!

You turned on your heel to see him staring up at the ceiling, looking as divine as ever in the warm light of the fire that flickered over his features, his naked form a rare sight for anyone but you to see with it so frequently covered in layers of posh garments.

Ray was a bit recluse, and you didn't take his affection toward you for granted even for a second, smiling with a sense of pride and devotion as you kicked off your shoes and slowly made your way back over to the man your heart had begun to miss already.

He welcomed you by opening his arm, giving you space to tuck yourself up beside him, your head finding a spot on his chest where his heart thrummed in your ear.

“I wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place…” you reminded him, feeling slightly guilty over showing up unannounced.

Ray hummed, always carefully assessing whatever thoughts were about to pass through his lips, his thumb rubbing your arm languidly.

“No,” he blinked quickly, his tone lighter. “But I’m glad that you are.”

As much as Ray tried keeping things neat and tidy between you, he couldn’t ignore how tangled you had become in his soul, his thoughts distracted by you more times than he would care to admit or ever want the Boss to know of, something he swore would never happen taking place before his very eyes without any intention of stopping it.

Ray pressed a kiss to your temple, thinking how he had paid the price a long time ago with you, the expense of your love something he would go broke for a million times over, letting you take careful possession of the one thing he would never pay out to anyone else.

Thank you for this ask @navybrat817 💗💗💗 it's so nice to reflect back on my stories and be reminded why I love them so much.

[luchicm04]

lost in the forest - part 6

Masterlist

Summary: While she can't do nothing but feel desperation, discussions take place outdoors.

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Original Female Character

Tag: #lost in the forest fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 2.7k

No A/N this time guys, sorry ;)

Overall warnings: canon-typical violence, adult content, time skips, angst, kidnapping

Karen does not count the days that have passed. She becomes obsessed with the idea of leaving as the loneliness and ignorance of her captors lengthens away from the drama that is experienced at the midpoint of this family. She carefully observes the fixations of her own guard who is so different from the previous one. 

She sees that they look at her with doubt, with envy and even hatred when they think she isn’t paying attention to them. 

They underestimate her. 

Are they perhaps military or something? She doesn’t know and that’s when she realizes exactly how ignorant she is of the job of her captors. Since when did she become so comfortable in not investigating or getting out of this place? So she can’t help but look through the dark room with some apprehension. 

She was foolish when her initial plan was diverted by the distraction of teaching her language with the aim of learning more from these people, leaving shortly and finding out how she got to this place. She gulps thickly at her own musings. Yes, she is to blame for being at this place without any progress due to her lack of intention to research more about where she is. 

She is afraid of what might jump out at her. 

Being told that this is not her home... nor her world. 

A hysterical laugh is drawn in the solitude of that room. The silence is normal with some noises of distracted animals oblivious to her problems. She sighs and looks at the door she has not crossed in a long time, not since that man gave her those warnings. 

Since he changed her guards. 

Just coming out to take her regular baths, she feels like she’s someone’s pet, just locked up waiting to be fed, dressed and bather. 

She gets up doubtful. Her light clothing is the least important thing when today she feels something in her chest is about to come out. Sleep will not come soon because of the doubts that arise in her head, the theories of why her supposed students no longer appear around her... 

Her situation. 

Karen is foolish, stubborn and proud... but she is not stupid to provoke something with the atmosphere so tense, strange and nostalgic. 

Still like a funeral. 

She walks like the first night she went out, alone. Not a soul passes through the corridors as always, so she temps her destiny to risk angering the person who has captured her. The forest dances with the soft breeze that gives her fresh air as it filters through her rustic yukata. 

The fabric no longer itches... she got used to it along with so many things. 

She lost count of the days. 

“You should not be here,” a soft thick voice with a foreign tone draws her attention. Frightened, she turns with her heart racing in her chest to see how those pair of eyes smile at her... She hadn’t seen him in a while, but Hashirama never looked as sad as that night. 

“Uh... sorry,” the girl nods with a strange atmosphere. “How are you?”, she clumsily adds not knowing what to say to break that silence. This man can be rudely cheerful but usually he is the one who tries to talk to her in his strange gesture. 

To practice her language. 

She still envies them for talking a little more... she didn’t learn that fast. 

“...” Hashirama doesn’t say anything. He turns to look at the forest. “You must not cross the forest,” he reminds. 

“I was not going to cross it.” 

“Going?” 

“From the verb to go...” She sighs because explaining the meaning of certain words is tiring at this time of the night. Even she struggles to remember the grammatical rules, especially when they are conjugations in tenses. 

“Oh...” Hashirama looked less sad. “Tobirama... speak better.” 

“Yeah... you too.” 

“I know...” The man is a natural. “Better go inside.” Although sometimes he forgets to conjugate so that the words are heard less strangely. Karen doesn’t ignore it, but sighs as she doesn’t feel like correcting what was wrongly said right now, continuing back to the room. 

“Something happened, right?” The woman can be cautious. However, she is human and has doubts about her surroundings. “Tobirama was not good.” Knowing that she is still slow to understand some things, she does not explain in detail what she felt that night. “You have not come and Mikami hasn’t either.” 

“Complicated.” He doesn’t say anything else as they walk in silence between the corridors. 

“Mmmm...”, she blinks because she sees that Tobirama is not the only one who is brief giving explanations. She assumes that by being kind it would be easier to get information, but she failed. Karen sees the caution, the natural distrust of everyone around her reflected in her happy student. 

But it is more subtle compared to the others. 

She feels disappointed in a way. 

“Good night,” says the man so as to not say anything else and closes the door, leaving her alone in the room. The papers are already better arranged. The shadows are peculiar but Karen simply leaves this be because there is no point in worrying about things that are not in her hands, much less by people who are not her friends. 

She is stupid to expect something positive from all this. 

She is still kidnapped, locked up without any kind of thing. She snorts because apparently it will not be enough for them to learn her language. She will also have to learn theirs so she can have access to information. 

She looks at the walls, throws away several of the scrolls and lies down when she’s done. 

She’s angry... furious at her stupidity. 

She was soft... too much for her taste. 

──

It is just a week after her meeting with that man when she notices a change in the atmosphere. She has been locked up learning the basics of the language, still unsuccessful. She snorts indignantly at her fruitless attempt, remembering basics of Japanese that simply confuse her more. 

It is similar... however, it’s not the same. 

So she has been sleeping late and gets scared when she sees Tobirama standing at the foot of her rustic bed. “Be learning,” without conjugation and with a rough tone, he gives her a severe look typical of those red pupils. 

She groans... she doesn’t like to be woken up. 

“Good morning... to you too,” she huffs with no intention of getting up. She sits down with her hair disheveled and her yukata creased. She doesn’t say anything when the man doesn’t either so she raises an eyebrow. 

“Learn.” 

“Now you want to learn?” 

“Not me.” 

“Huh?”, Karen frowns. She looks at the papers the man is pointing at with absolute doubt. “I want to learn,” she confirms without any guilt, not feeling that it is a secret that will cause problems, right? 

“You must not.” 

“Why?” 

“I learn.” 

“Yes, but you don’t tell me anything.” 

“Mmmm...” Tobirama says nothing, taking her own scrolls without any explanation. 

“Hey!” She doesn’t bother to put on anything else and runs off after the man who has easily disappeared before her eyes which causes her indignation, so she continues searching for him around the place. 

“[…?]” Her usual guard looks at her strangely. 

“Tobirama?”, she asks keeping her annoyance at bay and sighs. She is tempting the scorpion if she continues down that path, but she is more driven by the irritation of this man than the fact that she had not actually advanced that much in learning. 

“[...]” The foreigner says something. She never answers but she looks happy for some reason. She shrugs and walks away, leaving her alone and disappearing as they do regularly. 

Almost like ninjas. 

She growls annoyed at being ignored, walking around the hallways in an eagerness to find her little research. It is necessary if she wants to leave to find out how to get back home... more so if at this point there is nothing special making her want to stay, it’s not like she wants to... she is trapped. 

But Karen doesn’t expect help from these people. 

She was innocent about it. 

She keeps walking around and eventually gets tired. Her bare feet don’t help much as she continues the course. It doesn’t surprise her that her two pupils didn’t appear that day, nor the scrolls, and snorts. She gets upset but doesn’t say anything. 

She hates it when her things constantly disappear... Is it because they don’t want to teach her? She grunts and just keeps rambling for the next few days. The atmosphere is still the same. She’s locked up again. She tried to get out of the forest but she just can’t as she falls unconscious a couple of times. 

What do they expect of her? 

──

Tobirama is firm. He is known for being the most serious of the Senju brothers whose ideas have never been dismissed despite the years. Looking at the stolen scrolls, the woman has strange bases of some type of similar language she has been working on these nights. 

Could it be that she speaks more than one? He snorts... Maybe they haven’t let him do experiments in favor of cultural growth through the use of a foreign language in war, preparing him to implement keys that would save the lives of his clan... This, however, is beyond silly. 

He is curious. His experimental side fantasizes about discovering why she does not have a chakra system but the other, the scholar side, urges him to have more of her cultural learning that he believes he can get more out of... “Mmm,” as always, Hashirama found him in his work area. 

“Has the meeting already ended?” 

“Yes,” the older man answers calmly and tired from hard days after that battle. “They aren’t happy about the casualties.” 

“No one would be,” Tobirama sighs, leaving the study of the external language. “You know it is not your fault.” He may be the coldest, but he is still weak to his brother’s concern... he doesn’t like to see him so overwhelmed, almost like the days when their father forced them to murder clan children before his eyes. 

“But... I’m not a leader like Oto-sama.” 

“You are not Oto-sama,” the bitter shinobi sighs. 

“I know I’m not... but they think that just because...” Hashirama looks at his hands with indignation and sighs frustrated at the comparison and the weight on his shoulders for his own fame... many times hiding the kind side which he usually has. 

“I know you will find a way to get them on your side.” 

“Yes,” Hashirama laughs lightly. “I’m glad to talk to you.” 

“Mmmm...” Tobirama doesn’t comment anything. “What did they tell you about her?” 

“They want to get rid of her...” 

“I told you,” he focuses better on another point on the table, tensioning both of them equally. “That woman will cause problems.” 

“I won’t let you open her... I thought you had left the topic.” 

“Mmmm...” The youngest doesn’t feel guilty about it. “I found this in her bedroom,” he points to a scroll in his hands. “She may be a civilian, but she wants to learn from us.” 

Hashirama leans down to see. “Is that another language?” 

“I don’t know,” the white-haired man admits clearly. He remembers that the first time they saw her she spoke strangely... as she always does but he never noticed a change in her tone... or did he? 

“...” 

“You don’t want her to learn,” Hashirama focused better. 

“She is a civilian. If she learns, it will be a problem. You know she isn’t from the clan.” 

“Tobirama.” 

“I told you, you are the leader of the clan, you have to think for the clan,” the man bites harshly, leaving behind the comforting side of not seeing him sad. “She is a danger,” he repeats not seeing the use of the woman when he believes he has already taken what he needs. 

Hashirama frowns. “Then that can be fixed... right?” 

“Do not even think about it.” Tobirama doesn’t understand why he has such attachment to a foreigner of all things, like when he was stubborn with that Uchiha whom he stopped talking to a long time ago. He looks at him and massages the bridge of his nose seeing the strange intention. 

“But Tobi...” 

“I do not know why you are so interested.” 

“She’s just a civilian,” Hashirama stands up to his full height. “And it would be better if you keeo this between us. Leave her alone for now.” 

“Hashirama.” Both wills are strong, the atmosphere is tense. “I have fought with you enough for this nonsense... Do what you want but as soon as I see that there is danger I assure you... I will prioritize the clan.” The clan leader simply pursed his lips. “And you are not stupid enough to know that it is not advisable to get involved in the clan... someone who has an absence of the chakra system will only cause problems and you know it, right?” Tobirama doesn’t want to experience what kind of situations could come out of their clan’s affairs with the girl. That’s the main reason why the two of them are the only men who look at her. 

He notices it and although he sees that there is no malice in the girl regarding certain actions, he cannot tempt someone else without them falling into something complicated. 

Hashirama doesn’t say anything, taking his leave and leaving him alone with the notes he had. The man simply curses his brother’s strange habit of collecting complicated pets while looking better at the matrices and the gibberish, almost similar in some way. 

He had better things to deal with. 

──

Hashirama can notice his frustration from a safe distance hidden among the trees. He has remained under contact considering his delicate position before the council of elders who pressure him to be obedient just as his father was. 

They forget that the current leader is... a monster in all its extension. 

His fame precedes him. 

“Hashirama-sama?” It was Touka, a firm woman who has been in charge of treating the girl. “Can we kill her?” 

“Touka,” he warns at the kunoichi’s almost innocent option. 

“You know she isn’t up to snuff.” 

“Touka,” he doesn’t growl but his attitude is harsh for someone who was his childhood friend, one of the fiew that his father allowed him to play with just because she was his cousin. 

Daughter of Butsuma’s sister. 

“I apologize,” she obediently crouches down. 

“How is she?” 

“She doesn’t ask about you anymore,” is the only thing the kunoichi says, still staying among the trees of that dense forest. The wind is soft when she sees her entering the house again. “...I don’t know why she doesn’t try to escape.” 

“...” Hashirama doesn’t say anything. He assumes that Karen realizes the disadvantage in a certain way... She would die as soon as she left his clan’s protected area and not everyone is benevolent. 

“She’s strange, very rude,” says the woman rambling in the same way. “Tobirama-sama ordered that we keep her away from anything from the outside, but I still don’t understand. Why did you take her? Not even my cousin Masashi is so useless and her chakra system is null.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“She is different... she gets tired doing so little.” 

“What did you do? ” 

“I didn’t do anything... ”, she shrugs. 

“Touka.” 

“I’m just curious about the girl. I mean, she looks fragile, she’s stupid and very foolish,” she sighs. “Mikami told me about her.” 

“Mmmm...” Hashirama sighs because he sees the leak of information. “Do not investigate her,” he states because only he and his brother are aware of her null chakra system. 

“Fine.” Touka can be very loyal but a bit intense at times that the leader doesn’t understand. 

“I am serious.” 

“I know,” the woman simply sighs and disappears, leaving for now. He won’t admit it but he is worried about the curiosity of the kunoichis he placed to take care of the foreign woman. Mikami was more discreet in her irritation... Hashirama plans many things, but he is aware of the danger that his brother mentioned. 

More because of her null chakra system. 

But he has a soft heart despite the life he has had... and he has grown fond of that person. 

In a way that is too strange in the eyes of others. 

[mrsreginagold]

Fic: Why Don't We Rely On Chemistry?

Fandom: Ready or Not x Saw VI (Crossover)

Pairing: William Easton x Grace Le Domas (Willace)

Rating: R

Spoilers: Takes place at the end of Saw VI, but in an AU where William lives, and after the events of Ready or Not. While it arguably messes with timelines, Grace has been working at Umbrella for around a month, and as a new hire in administrative would not have been targeted the same way as those who have been part of his team for longer. 

Summary: Grace is unprepared for William’s sudden arrival at her apartment but lets him in regardless. 

Author’s note: Every now and then, a crack pairing that forms seemingly out of nowhere becomes important enough to write. In this case – there were three different concepts that demanded attention, so I decided to tackle them all in between other projects. Dedicated, with affection, to @eternal-learner whose interest in the idea of the pairing finally got me to think about it clearly. 

The Song That Inspired This

Why Don’t We Rely on Chemistry?

            It’s the last thing Grace Le Domas expects – her boss leaning against her doorframe: bloody, disheveled, and looking as though he’s been through hell and back at least twice – but she would be lying if it also wasn’t a relief to see him. 

            Things with the estate she’d inherited had gotten complicated, as it was only a few months after her horrific ordeal on the night of her wedding. In fact, she had just ended a tense phone-call with her lawyers. Honestly, a distraction was exactly what she needed. 

            “Will,” she reached out quickly to catch William Easton’s tall, lean body right as his legs gave out beneath him. “My god, what happened?”

            “Jigsaw,” he gasped, the gravel in his voice revealing the pain he was in. 

            Grace’s eyebrows furrowed. “Isn’t he supposed to be dead?”

            Somehow, her employer manages a brief laugh while she hoists him up, draping one of his arms over her shoulder so she can cart him inside her apartment properly. 

            “Apparently even the dead can exact revenge.” He remarked as she charted a path through her messy living room.

Admittedly, it doesn’t take too much to guide him into the small bathroom at the end of the hall. While she has a tinier frame than he does, she is also strong enough to carry him entirely if need called for it. Luckily – that doesn’t appear to be the case.

            She lets him recline against the counter, flipping on the light switch so she can see things more clearly. “Take off your shirt and tell me what happened.”

            Again, he laughs, though there’s a wounded hiss and he inhales sharply right after. “You’re being so bossy. Do you get that from watching me all day?”

            She finishes rummaging in her medicine cabinet, turning just in time to see him struggling with the buttons. The sarcastic retort she’d prepared dies on her tongue and her gaze softens. 

            Grace crosses over to William and takes over, popping each button on his blood-stained shirt open in rapid succession. “Please tell me, as best as you can.”

            He takes another shaky breath before doing so, while she gingerly pushes the ruined garment off his shoulders. 

            He leaves nothing out in his retelling of the harrowing encounter in the abandoned zoo, but what might be the most alarming part of all is how haunted he is about not being able to do more. 

            In ordinary circumstances, she might ogle his surprisingly defined torso a bit, but she is more consumed with tending to his injuries while he relays his story. 

            She winces in sympathy when he is unable to keep a whimper at bay while she cleans the puncture wounds on his hands – wiping the blood away as gently as possible despite the sting of the rubbing alcohol. “I’m so sorry, I’m almost done,” she mutters. “Then I’ll stitch up that gash on your side.”

            “Don’t apologize,” he shakes his head, dark brown strands of hair coming loose from where he had smoothed them back earlier. “You’re rather adept at this, actually. Did you have any medical training?”

            “On myself you could say,” she holds up her own hand, where scar tissue is visible right on the center of her palm. 

            He blinks, concern crossing his handsome features. “How?”

            “A fucking kid shot through my hand, that’s how. And then I impaled it again on a nail.”

            “Grace…how much about your past have you told me?”

            A rueful smile tugged at her lips. “Well to be fair, I was only recently hired.”

            “True, but now I’m doubly curious,” he turns when she instructs him, so she has a better angle at which to sew in the stitches. 

            In a way, it’s a great release to finally share her own story, and she’s certain William appreciates being able to take his mind off his own for a while. 

            What she isn’t counting on is the tears that have sprung to her eyes by the time she’s completed her work, and when she peers up at him, the emotion reflected back in his sea-colored gaze nearly takes her breath away. 

            Gingerly, he frames her face between his damaged hands. “What happened wasn’t your fault.” 

            “You need to tell yourself that too,” she half sobs.

            The next thing she knows, she is cradled in his arms, flush against his solid chest, and listening to the steady beat of his heart while he soothes her with kind words.

            “This isn’t hurting you?” she risks a nuzzle.

            “You’re worth the pain,” he rests his chin against the top of her head. “If there’s something I’m grateful for, it’s that you weren’t with my team long enough to get dragged into that game with me. I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t have saved you.”

            “If there’s something I’m great at: it’s surviving,” Grace admits, tilting her head back so she can look at him again. 

            Her heart skips when he smiles genuinely for the first time that night, and then he raises a hand to trace along her cheek before whispering, “I don’t doubt it.”

            Whether she moves or he does is beside the point – in the next moment, their mouths are colliding in an ardent kiss.

            She parts her lips eagerly in invitation, delighted when he takes it, and his tongue delves with practiced precision. 

            She hooks her index fingers into his belt loops, tugging him forward as she steps backward to lead him to the shower. 

            They separate for air and for Grace to shuck her tee shirt over her head. 

            There is no mistaking the lust in William’s gaze the second he gets a glimpse of her in the black lace bra she has on underneath, those eyes of his trailing slowly over her. 

            She makes a show of removing the undergarment – and then she is standing there, half-naked and hoping that he won’t let reason cloud his judgement. 

            He hesitates for a split second before throwing caution to the wind. 

            She’s in his arms again in a heartbeat, elation coursing through her entire body as she blindly reaches for the faucet to start the hot water. “You sure?” she mumbles, fumbling with the rest of his clothes.

            “I need to feel something that isn’t pain,” he responds, assisting her until they’re both completely nude and stepping under the refreshing, warm spray. 

            If he weren’t recovering, she’s certain that he would be lifting her up and pinning her against the wall. Instead, she straddles him on the tub floor and takes initiative.

            They’re careful after joining together, moving in a deliberately paced rhythm so as not to aggravate his injuries. The water cascades over them while they exchange loving kisses, and a symmetry builds. 

            It’s been some time since she’s connected with another in this way. She relishes in how good it feels – as though he’s been made for her because he fits so perfectly. 

            His name falls from her lips like a mantra as they pick up speed, and she cards her fingers through his damp hair while looking deeply into his eyes. He braves gripping her hips more tightly, and she can’t deny that she likes witnessing a hint of dominance, especially when it adds to his allure.

            “Grace…” his already low register is akin to an inhuman growl, and she shivers before kissing him again, encouraging the movement of their entangled forms until there is nothing left but the pleasure they share. 

            “For the record, this was probably the worst idea, and I should have immediately taken you to a hospital,” Grace confesses not long after. Her hands are preoccupied with stroking through the hair on his chest while they lie in her bed, twined with each other and the sheets, recuperating. 

            William’s quiet laugh rumbles against her cheek. “You gave me some painkillers and food. I should be fine till tomorrow morning,” he sighs and sweeps his fingers tiredly through her unbound, blond waves. 

            She lifts her head from where it’s pillowed comfortably and purses her lips. “One hint of a fever and I’m dragging you there completely naked.”

            “That’ll be a sight,” he grins, yanking her close for a sweet kiss that she happily returns. 

            He’s right. Being responsible can wait till the morning. 

The End

[cynthia39100]

@themerlinlibrary August Writing Challenge

Prompt 3: Royalty

Merlin & Arthur

Arthur x Gwen (They break up at the beginning.)

AO3 link

(A little Modern Royalty AU fic. I had little knowledge and imagination of royalty so bear with me... and I swear I'm not purposefully using Gwen and Arthur's broken relationship as an opening every time. )

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

Arthur should have seen this coming. 

He was in his bedroom in Windsor, holding a sobbing Gwen. She was saying how she loved him and how hard she’d tried and that she couldn’t do it anymore. 

“ I’m not royalty, Arthur. I thought I could learn to become one, but I will never be. You deserved a better wife who can support you through all odds. People… ” She trailed off, but Arthur knew what she didn’t say. People deserved a proper queen. They always did. Arthur was born to serve the people after all. 

Arthur comforted her with random words while feeling hollow and unreal. Everything was like a scene in the movie. He was just an observer. 

His whole life was like it, wasn’t it? There were always rules, traditions and scripts to follow. Every word, every action was properly designed and calculated by a group of “writers”. Because there is always someone watching. Because it’s his duty to be the perfect Prince people expected. 

It’s better now, of course. Rules became more flexible, and some old traditions no longer applied. He could date a peasant girl and even consider marrying her, as long as she adapted to the culture and duties of a royal family. 

He didn’t realise that was the most difficult part. 

Whenever Gwen stood by him, He felt that he finally had a little freedom and control in his life. Gwen must have felt the contrary. Arthur could only offer her wealth and title, neither was what Gwen needed in life. 

And so he let go of Gwen, told her it was alright, and sent for staff outside the room to escort her out. Arthur didn’t bother to chase out Merlin who silently sneaked in. He just lay on his bed, determined not to react to any of Merlin’s comforting words. Surprisingly, Merlin didn’t do his usual cheering or rambling to distract him, only standing beside the door like a security guard. 

Arthur supposed Merlin still knew when to leave him alone. Or he for once just didn’t know what to say. 

“ Don’t stand there like an idiot. Don’t you have more productive things to do? Writing my break-up announcement for one.” Arthur finally spoke up, couldn’t tolerate the silence. 

“ I already asked George to do it.” 

Another silent moment passed. Merlin was still standing beside the door, and Arthur was still lying on the bed. 

“ Am I wrong not to listen to Father and marry Elena?” 

“ It’s 21 century. Even the prince is allowed to choose his partner.” 

“ Gwen backed off. I’ve refused all the legitimate noblewomen in the country. What if I can’t find another one? What about the succession?” 

“ I’m sure Morgana will be happy to succeed. Actually, it should be Mordred. Have you met him recently? He has grown quite a lot.” 

“ And I’m just going to become this lonely old king?”

“ Well… on the bright side, you still got me.”  

Arthur finally surged up from the bed, looked at Merlin incredulously. 

“ Is that supposed to cheer me up?” 

“ Thought it might.” Merlin shrugged unapologetically while showing his iconic goofy smile. 

“ You really are an idiot,” Arthur said exasperatedly, but he turned to cover the smile he couldn’t quite suppress. 

Merlin seemed to sense the smile anyway. His voice became lighter and more cheerful. 

“ Since Your Highness feels better now, your father wants to meet you whenever you are ready. Do you want me to notify His Majesty?” 

Arthur sighed and got off the bed. He didn’t want to face his father, but the sooner it was done, the better. 

Merlin opened the door and was about to leave, but Arthur called him back. 

“ Aren’t you coming with me?” 

Merlin winced. “ The King is horrifying.” 

“ And you’re going to leave me alone? Right after you swore to serve me forever?”

“ I did not!” 

“ Yes, you did. Anyway, It’s your prince’s order.” 

Merlin mumbled some inaudible insults under his breath, and Arthur smiled again. It seemed that whether he could find a new love or not, he would always have his best friend hanging around. It made the future just a little less horrifying.